I’ve been deep in work on my fringe play, and I know — quietly but clearly — that I need time. Real time. Time in Toronto. Time to get my act together in the most literal sense.
That time was going to be spent somewhere else.
Next was walking on fire.
Not as bravado.
As symbolism.
A quiet ritual.
A marker.
Walking through heat, not around it.
Rising like a phoenix — not because the journey was easy, but because it mattered.
Walking on fire has to be set on pause.
Afterwards, South Africa was on the horizon: whale watching, safaris, birding, rehabilitation centers. It would have been expansive, grounding, unforgettable — a special invite.
I was looking forward to all of it as I mentioned in a previous post.
But journeys don’t always end where we imagine they will.
To do these things would cost me something I can’t afford to lose right now — focus. And so this becomes a regrettable no. Not a no forever. Just a no for now.
Saying no used to feel like failure to me.
Lately, it feels more like alignment.
This journey has been about learning the difference.
If the invitation comes again, I hope I’ll be ready and invited. For now, I’m choosing to return early, to plant myself, and to finish what I started.
And for the first time in a long while, the next step feels clear.
A special thanks to my friend from South Africa — Raggy Charters — I apologize and hope to see you another time.
To Soleil, who tells me don’t walk on fire, I say “Your wish has been granted, temporarily”
“Sometimes you have to go through the fire to come out new. “
— Walk the Line (2005)