Crisis, age 48, London

She knows I have to sing. There is a part of me that wants to tell me still that it is not for me, that I do not deserve and will not be, am not, good enough. My elder, who has guided me surefooted through these past seventeen years, tells me I can be who I want to be. She brought me many presents, unexpectedly many presents which I opened when I was in bed last night, surprised by and pleased with, her gifts. She can see me clearly, a facility I do not seem to have had. I need to look into and through the smoky mirror, let me open my mouth of fire and roar, let me sing the songs of the long years lament, looking backwards and forwards holding the deep thick and intense candle of hope strong in my hands, sheathed in flowers, seeing the darkness of the route travelled and with the awareness of the grace of the coming routes strongly lit. I know you need to hear the songs from the darkest of times so that you might see clearly who it is I am and what it is I have to offer you. She said I could call you back to me, and inside myself I saw desert landscapes, me, on a mountainous terrain. I saw through the mists of time, I saw through other lands, I knew I was not just of now, but of other worlds, lands and times. And in this time then I need to gather all of me together and truly let me inhabit the me I am. I do not need to struggle in relationships, struggle in the world, let my mind become petty with vicious thoughts and hatreds thousands of years old. I need again and again to just fill up my space with me then there is not room for others to step in and steal my space away from me. I need to create the world I want, to have the life I want, and not believe others can stop me.