Traveling often for work now, I credit in-flight entertainment for slowly bringing me back with the times, as I tap into the TV deficit show by show, film by film. Flying back from Gatwick yesterday I was amazed at how much the Biographies in particular demonstrate the immense challenge of not allowing what we do to become who we are. On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you. And when your eyes freeze behind the grey window and the ghost of loss gets in to you, may a flock of colours, indigo, red, green, and azure blue come to awaken in you a meadow of delight. When the canvas frays in the currach of thought and a stain of ocean blackens beneath you, may there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight to bring you safely home. May the nourishment of the earth be yours, may the clarity of light be yours, may the fluency of the ocean be yours, may the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow wind work t