TRUSTING THE SIGNS

Pictured is a piece of graffiti defacing a cliff in the national park near where I live, probably drawn by a passing tourist or a bored teenager. It is nothing remarkable – just a name evoking an old rock star, scratched on with a piece of chalky sandstone gleaned from the edge of the walking trail.

The morning I came across this insignificant scrawl is a morning I will remember always – a little piece of ‘big magic,’ as Elizabeth Gilbert would say.

I don’t recall now what had triggered the fear...