In an interview by Krista Tippet (on my go-to podcast On Being), the late Irish poet John O'Donohue recounts growing up in the midst of the wild and harshly beautiful landscape of Ireland. He would often return home from the fields after dark, his path taking him through a deserted village that he was sure was filled with the ghosts of those who had lived there in years gone-by.  A young child in a dark and deserted village filled with ghosts? I envision the young poet covering his ears and running through the dark and scary village as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Our inner landscapes have their own dark and deserted villages inhabited by our own ghost stories.