Dying, I have been dying all day. Shedding skin, letting go, watching lightning strike down from the sky and enter my body at the top of my head, leaving all my glass walls shattered, the ornamented barricades I once built with my blood. Who knew a head could explode in so many ways?
Time for death, time for surrendering my old body to maggots and ants and the deep, silent soil. It is time to live, and so it is time to die. I embrace my old self, I hold me close and listen to my heart's song of respect and trust, before it is time, it is time, it is time. And it is easy and it is hard, but most of all it is time.
To practice, to die, to cry. To open our eyes to a new world. To give birth. To die. To be new, to be renewed. Welcome, death. Thank you, death. I choose life.
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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(Photo: Order of the Good Death)