Huddled at the side of the stage, my peers around me. Sort yourselves into order, we are told. Those who have done this before go first, so the others have something to follow. And yet, even the experienced are nervously shuffling backwards. I feel an all too familiar bubbling within me, as I recognise the panic in those around me starting to rise. A sponge for everyone’s projections, I have no way of moving to stop it from taking hold. I wrap up warm, and push my energy outwards, creating a shield to protect me. Knowing it will not hold for long with this nervous tension crackling in the air, I embrace the position of second place the universe has given me. The leading model steps onto the stage, displaying her artist’s work to the audience as she walks down the catwalk, posing as she goes. Then comes my turn.

My robe dropping to the floor, I step carefully onto the stage. Intuition has guided me to bring a fluffy gilet, once white but now stained yellow with the dust of festivals, as a prop. Thrown casually over my shoulder, it provides weight to ground me, as I make my way across the stage. ‘Woop woop, go Kirstine!’ Cheers from the audience are ringing in my ears. I look across in delight to see my artist’s mouth gaping in awe, a look of pride in her eyes as I drop my gilet to the floor and walk down the catwalk, clad only in body paint and the smallest of modesties, posing for the cameras as I go. As I make my way off the stage, I am radiance itself.


The universe guides me to healing my past, when I am able to slow down enough to listen, and wait for the timing to be right.

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