Whenever I travel now, I begin the same way: I pause, breathe, and ask permission — from the land, from the spirits, from those who were here long before me…

When I close my eyes, I can still smell the smoke of burning bees wax. I can still hear the soft crackle of fire as it ate away at what was no longer needed…

Tears. Raw. So human. This weekend, I cried more times than I could count, but not for the reasons one might expect…