Ode to you

It was a vulnerable moment. Old friends and new gathered around a beautifully laid fire. As we sat down in a circle, the invitation was for someone to light the fire and begin by introducing themselves, sharing what was alive for them in that moment.

The person sitting by my side murmured to me, “Maybe that’s you today.”
I immediately said no. It didn’t want to be in the spotlight.
But an inner dialogue had already begun.

I had a choice: ignore the voice or take a risk.

Take a risk...

I took a risk.

It was a lovely autumn evening, just after sunset. Our bellies were full of nourishing food. Our souls were happy to be back on the land where so much magic happens: Embercombe.

Everyone sat silently as I reached for the matches and made the first strike.
Nothing.

Keep calm.

Another strike. Then another.
Still, the fire wouldn’t catch.

It wasn’t like watching someone use friction, where you admire their effort and patience. This was different. The voices inside me were at war. I could feel agitation rising.

Around me, I sensed the rescuers restraining themselves—wanting to help.
That tension grew heavier with each failed strike.

On a normal day, I’d crack a joke, make everyone laugh, and get away with it.
But this was a circle.
And here, silence meant respect.

As I struck another match, the man—seated just behind me like a protective wall—kept murmuring:
“Take your time, no rush, stay with it…”

I felt raw and vulnerable, stressed and ashamed.
But I didn’t give up.

The noise inside me was deafening. I worried the others could hear it. 

Still, I kept going.

Their stares felt loud. But I stayed with it.

Finally—a spark.
The fire caught.

It was a gentle flame, soft and steady, easing the tension in the circle.
I smiled, just a little.
And the circle began.

That night, I slept out at the stone circle. There were tears.
I was deeply moved by that fatherly voice—something I had never experienced in my life.

That voice was Joey’s

He always had my back. 

---

The first time I met Joey, he was volunteering to “water the stones.” This big, loud, hairy man. I thought Embercombe was giving charity to some wild character. Little did I know, he was the one who would go on to wrap his arms around all of us.

But from that day on, he became my crazy old friend—my mentor and guide. Wild in many ways, but full of depth.

The tender of the fires.

The first ceremonial fire I built, I offered to my womanhood—to my grandmothers. Joey celebrated that. When I shared my past shame around menstruation, he asked,
“Have you ever offered your blood to the land?”  It’s been my ceremony ever since.

When I became the backrow lead, we had the best time.  First to rise, last to sleep, always with our hundredth cup of tea. 

He would say, “We need to be two steps ahead of the group to get the work done.”  So we were.

He told me stories of the grandmothers of Sardinia. He asked about he stories of the women of my land.

He began every prayer with: “Hey, sweet Mary”—

Mary Wollstonecraft, to whom the land of Embercombe is dedicated.

The last thing Joey ever said to me was, “Stay as the empowered woman you are.” It wasn’t just a farewell—it was a blessing. A passing of the torch.

---

I knew the day would come when I’d miss it all.

Miss our pre-journey brekkies at the diner or greasy spoons.
Our last cups of tea after everyone else had gone to bed.
Your warm greeting in the mornings:  “Morning Tugba, how delightful to see you.”

Miss putting your shiny socks on and introducing you to the group on Joey’s Night—even though they’d known you for three days.

Your rockstar look.
Listening to  “Dancing naked in the rain” while driving. Your never-ending stories.
Your relentless jokes.
Your unstoppable mind—always finding solutions, even when there were no problems.

I knew I’d miss your cheeky smile.
Your not-quite-grammatical, often nonsensical messages full of emojis.
Your unbeatable singing for hours during ceremonies,
Your quiet yet strong presence behind me.
Your big, warm hugs.
Your tender and caring heart. 

I knew I’d miss you. I miss you.

---

Joey was never an ordinary man.

Not everyone “got” him—but once you did, he got under your skin.
Never to be forgotten.
Just a little dose of his medicine would stay with you.

He was not-so-sacred.
He was raw.
He was real.
Unapologetic.
Dedicated.
Loving.

Loving
Loving

---

You are everywhere, Joey.

In every part of this land.
In the fires.
In the well.
In my dreams.

And most of all, deep in my heart.

Rest well, beautiful man, among the wildflowers.

I will always love you.

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