To be disrupted. To break apart. Shatter into pieces. Split.

I am on holiday, camping in a National Park on the East Coast of Australia, meters from the beach.

I woke this morning to the sound of dingos calling. Their distinct sound is a wailing-type peal that is both eerie and childlike.

It has been a week of sweet disruptions. 

All routines gone. The day unfolding without a set sequence, based on weather and levels of energy.

This type of routine disruption is good for the Soul. 

To have the daily order topsy turvy. 

To let the tentacles of routine dissolve into a new order that suits the environment and the days.

Routine during my work week is an anchor, a discipline. It provides the structure for my day. 

To break this part, to shatter, even for a week, is to allow the unfolding of my being to become manifest.

We do not know for sure that the person waking from the night is the same one who went to sleep. 

Holiday disruption in accordance with the environment allows what is being birthed a container to reveal itself.

Photo Taken March 21st 2024