“let my gardens speak for me when i am gone. let them speak in coloured whispers of all the beauty i have seen. and felt. and lived…let the glorious, fragrant blooms speak of my life and its greatest lesson: that the beauty we make never dies.”—Emory Hall, come sit by my garden 🌸🌷✨
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Still landing from the beauty of yesterday with as our seedling hope of gathering together in springtime to nurture our tender hearts and creative souls became a reality, and we created a garden of ritual in the city, a place to go inwards and to speak our wildest dreams into existence…
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It was an honour to witness the inner stirrings of creativity from the magical writers who joined us for our first Holding Stories gathering and to see the delicate threads of their stories emerging from below ground level to find light at the surface…
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Which of your stories are ready to be told…?
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Thank you for sitting with us xx