09/11/2025
When I was twelve years old,
we went to the south of France as a family for a holiday.
I remember buying croissants from the on-site shop and eating them in our caravan,
nestled in green grass and forest.
One evening, as we walked through the camping grounds,
my parents suddenly gasped in amazement - a meteor shower burst across the heavens,
illuminating it transcendently.
I craned my neck, dumbfounded.
My young mind couldn’t comprehend it,
but I knew, somehow, there was more to life
than what we could see.
Something vast, invisible, yet deeply familiar.
The mystical nature of existence
slapped me awake.
I felt the presence of spirit, and I wept.
My parents couldn’t understand why.
Shouldn’t I be happy?
And I was - but they were tears of beauty, knowingness,
and expanding consciousness.
Something changed in me that day.
That night planted a seed I didn’t yet understand -
a seed that would bloom years later
in ceremony and silence.
Guided by plant medicine and meditation,
that childhood moment, amongst others, once flashed before my eyes
Replaying in perfect sequence.
I found myself Buddha-laughing,
realising spirit had always been there.
Spirit had spoken countless times -
in nature, in stillness,
in the sparkle of someone’s eyes,
in quiet love beyond words.
For as long as I live, no matter what hardships come,
I am infinitely blessed.
Because spirit, nature and love are etched into my being
and can never be taken away.
Now, as I return to France, to Dijon -
to a sisterhood and brotherhood of kindred souls,
I give thanks for this beautiful, connected life.
That little twelve-year-old girl, gazing at the shooting stars
with tears rolling down her cheeks,
could never have imagined she’d one day find her tribe,
connected by the same light that once made her weep.
Film photography by
