I can feel my neurons, they are a rapidly proliferating web of connections like mycelial network running through deep forest soil, intertwined with the roots of trees.
Reflections of an autistic herbalist, poet, and Feri priest.
I have always walked at the edges of worlds.
Growing up in suburban Massachusetts in the 1980’s, nobody knew what to make of the kid who could give long lectures on American and Irish history but couldn’t tie his shoes or keep track of homework assignments and lacked the social skills to put together a Dungeons & Dragons game.
Nor did I know what to make of the people around me. I was constantly waiting for my people – who at various times included Luke Skywalker, the Daoine Sidhe, King Arthur, and Carl Sagan – to come find me and take me where I really belonged. But, they never did, so I disappeared into fantasy novels and into the swamp behind my house where sometimes strange creatures flashed at the edge of my field of vision.