Bridge Dwellers
Frequencies, allies, and otherworldly companions for those no longer anchored in the old world
Author’s Note: Why This Series Exists
I didn’t plan to write any of this. I’ve been laid up with my body refusing to cooperate, pain staking its claim over movement, over certainty, over plans. But with my body paused, I’ve found myself wandering other landscapes, internal, subtle, symbolic. And the more time I’ve spent there, the clearer it’s become to me at least: something is breaking down, not just in me, but around me.
Do you feel that there is little resonance left between you and this reality?
This series isn’t just about illness. It’s about what illness reveals. It’s about what becomes visible when you can no longer keep up with the world as it was. And it’s about the strange company you meet when you finally stop running: the plants, the animals, the sounds that stay by your side as everything else falls away.
They say it’s an ill wind that blows no good. But sometimes that wind is blowing you toward something, off the land you knew, onto something you never expected. I’ve come to call that place the bridge. I have no idea where that bridge is leading, but I am beginning to collect travelling companions to accompany me on my way. This series is about these companions and “helpers”.
Have you made new and unusual friends on your way?
On the Bridge
There comes a time in history, not often, but unmistakably, when everything we know begins to break down. Systems, stories, bodies, even medicine itself begins to unravel. This is not just personal crisis. It is epochal transition.
Some of us feel it first through illness. Not the kind that responds to diagnosis or protocol, but something deeper, cellular dissonance, inexplicable fatigue, pain with no source, grief that won’t complete. These are not just symptoms of disease. For some, they are the early tremors of departure. A sign that we are no longer fully anchored in the world we once belonged to.
We are not dying. We are leaving.
Not all humans are stepping out of this reality. Many will remain, dead or alive, and rightly so. But some, humans, animals, even plants, are already heading towards the bridge. Not departed yet in body, but displaced in rhythm, frequency, and function. And we’re not going “somewhere else,” not yet. We are stepping onto the bridge.
The bridge is not metaphor. It is habitat. It is the ark of this age, a vessel for transit, not for arrival. Like Noah’s ark, it carries the essentials for rebirth. But what we carry across now are not breeding pairs and grain stores, but resonances: the low hum of a cat’s purr, the lung-opening whisper of mullein, the harmonic alignment of birdsong. These are not comforts. They are survival codes.
Are you surrounding yourself with different, strange, and often unknown, frequencies?
Traditional medicines, for many of us, have lost their efficacy. Allopathic medicine no longer speaks our language and perhaps never did. Herbal medicine, in its old forms, no longer knows what we are. That doesn’t mean plants have nothing to offer, but it does mean they are repurposing themselves. Some herbs, like mullein, have stepped up onto the bridge, offering not what they once did, but something new. A new intelligence. A new alliance.
Mullein has made itself known to me as not just a healing plant but as a magical plant. Has a healing plant coaxed its way into your consciousness?
Animals too are shifting. The purr of a cat, the sigh of a horse, the magnetic pull of a dog’s gaze. These are not quaint comforts. They are interdimensional harmonics. These creatures, long bonded to us, are now more than companions. They are fellow travelers. Some already long gone may be on the other bank, but we cannot see them there. Some are still here with us, ready to help us step out into the unknown with them by our sides - as frequencies and as resonances if they no longer have their forms.
The Becoming
And we? We’re not here to cross quickly. Many of us will live out years on this bridge. We are not journeying toward the new world. We are becoming it. The bridge will carry us until some new terrain forms under our feet, some harmonic shore where the codes we’ve carried can take root. But until then, we are in motion, suspended. Between meanings. Between systems. Between selves. And the best way we can sustain ourselves during this transition is to travel with the frequencies that support us, the magpie song, the cat’s purr, the elephant’s rumble.
This series is written from somewhere on that crossing. It does not offer cures. It does not promise landfall. But it does recognize the call. And it names the beings, frequencies, and fragments that are helping me, at least, to stay intact while the old world fades and the new world stirs.
Welcome to the bridge, and to this collection of travelling companions and frequencies that make our hearts and our bodies that tiny bit more comfortable while we live out our lives in what is now, to us, a strange land, a land that is no longer ‘home’.
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If you would like to help me keep going despite my battle with serious ill health…
a PayPal donation will be gratefully received. Please forgive my less well edited writing. I am having to do everything lying down as I am unable to sit, and that is hard going. If you are feeling well supported financially, you might want to help me purchase the sound equipment I need to build and share the soundscape to this transitional world.
Who else loves the chirupping of feeding fruit bats during the night, or the resonance of a cat’s purr?
Lovely writing Christine. There is even a frequency change in your voice. I will read with interest. Thank you