December is here. The year is almost turning and the word flesh has just come whispering in my ear. An Old English poetry-word for "body" was flæsc-hama, literally "flesh-home." The French say we can be bien dans sa peau, to feel right inside your skin, to be comfortable in the body we call our domicile. These days I am encircled by bodies travelling through illness and growth, spinning pirouettes on the tightrope of life. I recently visited a rock collection in a Musée d'Histoire Naturelle. Hunks of granite, ancient earth flesh carried the memories of a million other days. Softly, spoken words. Sshhh..they murmured, we are still here.