Some morning, when you least suspect it, you will perhaps stumble upon your own hidden cabin in the woods.
You will recognize it from your dreams. It has called you through the wind in the aspen, through the rustling of the spruce, from the cooing of mourning doves.
When you find your hidden cabin, the cabin you’ve searched for all your life, you will find yourself home.
This hidden home mirrors your deepest longings, your deepest remembrances.
The cracked paint and weathered boards do not matter. Inside you can hear the faint steady heartbeat coming from the Spirit of the Hearth.
You move closer.
The boat of your dreams, the boat to freedom, rests outside your true hidden cabin.
In the spring you pull your boat to the shore and cast off into unknown waters. You steer with the waves, the wind as your guide.
The eagle calls overhead. It glides into its own hidden nest, its own hidden home, with trout for the hatchlings.
You carry your home with you now, always.