Full moon is approaching. The wolves are coming closer. My body wakes up, wanting to break out of its modern cage, wanting to be seen and heard, wanting pulse and blood and sex and meat. I am hungry. I close my eyes and I see the storm, its naked rawness welling up from the inside. I am hungry and I always have been. This is old, I am old, I am the roots of the oak, stretched down into the wet soil, sucking up every drop of dark life. I am the wolf and I am hungry. I close my eyes and I smell her flesh, my teeth sink down into her soft thigh, I drown in her juice and I eat her alive.
Alive. And old. I am old. Sent by god, I join every other godsent particle in a wild howl to the raw and unlived. Yes, we say, as we turn to eachother. Yes, we scream. Yes.
This is a calling to slow down and listen. To take a deep breath and explore our personal connection with Mother Earth. The feminine and masculine, the beautiful and dirty, the real, the messy, the sacred. Once it was natural. Today it feels crucial.
For the next 100 Days I will write a book to the Earth. For the Earth. With the Earth. The book, and the journey, is also to you. For you. And with you. Together, we are everything.
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