I don't know what I am, but my teeth are sharp and I sense you are close. Come closer, please, I'm friendly at first. Say No and I stop, say Yes and open your eyes to the dark, for there is no light where I will take you, there is no time and there sure is no way back. What you will see is sound and ravishing movement. Your sound as we start to move, a long lost pattern of chaotic beauty, of stumbling and circling, of you hauling me closer, of me pushing you away, of us switching until we melt into the same, the same centrifugal force of claws in flesh and drops of salty blood on their way down to the earth. You take a deep breath and then another. Our hearts like heavy rain on the sea, we surrender to the waves and let them take us deep down into what we once knew. What we once were. What we still are. We don't return to the wild, we call upon the wild in us, and then we wait. We say Yes. And we start to move.
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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