꥟𖣔༄߷𖦹𓆙𓆉𓆝𓃹❀᪥𑁍ꕥ⚘༅↯☽☁︎︎𓁹✍︎︎☟︎𖣥𖥚𖡗𒀯𒀮𒀭𖢻𖤗𐬿𖣴𐬻᪣⌘𐮛𐬺𐬾

How can our laughter be this lovely, our kisses this sweet, our songs this hypnotic, and our pain and fear this reckless? I ponder the shapes of life that have moulded us so: Several million years playing in egalitarian bands a hundred singers deep, dreaming, walking the seasons of an immense, deafening, global ecology. In just the last 12,000 years (.004% of human existence) we see the settlement of our migratory ways, the emergence of hierarchic social structure, and the profound wounding of the ecology of both our Earth and our psyche. I sense a primordial love in us, and a new fangled dread.

ℏurricane soothe is the result of my embodied reckoning with this collective fever dream that realizes the erasure of indigeneity, establishment of ruthless gendered and racialized hegemony, and exploitation by pathogens and extractive economies supercharged by personal, generational and societal misunderstandings about the consequences of control. Humbled by my own influence and helplessness, I have been gathering resources for communication with the violated human body and the inviolate forces that flow through it. 

I have noticed themes among the people who I have witnessed provide the truest guidance, respite and solace to those in the most dire need. There is a distinct sensation of peace, safety and possibility in their presence. It is felt when one begins to entertain, let alone celebrate and trust, that there is vastly more at work here than the modern psyche’s brutalist hierarchic grid-work of logic, linearity and individuality can manage.

What is beyond the dismissal of the body’s language? The trivialization of synchronicity, collective subconscious and cosmic pattern so core to indigenous wisdom the world over? The Earth’s fragmented ecologies, when freed from relentless machine and chemical maintenance, need only time to burst forth and re-weave themselves in fruitful, riotous relationships. You and I are made of the same creative momentum and are subject to, and subject ourselves to, the same extraction, suppression and orphaning from source. Thus the (planetary) body revolts and the heart’s clarity retreats and fades.

We are as sick as the earth, and as resilient. 

Decolonization of the infected psyche is, indeed, the burning down of false narrative architectures of supremacy, individualism and scarcity. Liberation is also the ash-nourished renewal of estranged relationships within us. It is whole relationship with our carnal form and our non verbal, feral and ineffable elements that relieves the ego of the shame and polarity-prone authority it is charged with atop our novel internal hierarchy. The shared vessel of the body is common cause for collaboration between our most intellectual and sensual, driven and depressed, trusting and terrified, optimistic and nihilistic, tender and ruthless, ancient and brand new aspects. We also share this sapphiric planetary body, and an expanding universe too.

There seems to be a resounding ancient and current consensus, across the most disparate cultural containers that life [embodiment (being in a body {being filled with and surrounded by relationship})] craves love, responds to reverence and nourishes when nourished. Where do we find the language for talking about belonging to a greater consciousness, let alone the language for talking to it? Between the violence of religious institutions, the cotton candy of new age spirituality, and the sheer volume of blood and tears on this planet, just suspending one’s disbelief begs some heavy duty method.

Providentially, the people that came before us found the very shapes of time and mapped them in convergent, cyclical, stellar mythologies. They studied human agency within universal law and cosmic contour to develop symbolic languages for inquiry as to precisely what the fuck is going on. Stellar-oriented architecture and shell, bone and stone tools for descrying are omnipresent beneath the concrete. Divination and stellar time keeping are original, global, human traditions. They offer an incomparable accountability that we are a part of pattern, harmony and reciprocity, even in utter chaos, pain and denial.

For me, it is the way 3,000 year old poetry about the moon aligning with the black hole at the center of our galaxy describes the same themes I experience living that cosmic conjunction each month. It is the way that planetary poetry weaves effortlessly with current concepts of depth psychology and liberation theory, offering a time bending, kinetic guide for parts work, integration and enduring, embodied trust and belonging. It is with this well-worn set of tools in hand that I have watched my sensations of peace, purpose and wholeness grow while in direct conversation with my rage, despair and void. Should you be willing to surrender the children’s crusade of linear time, the cycle can embrace and inter-relate all of you. 

It seems we share in the occasion at the crest of this wave, mixing our particular, willful, creative agency with all this momentum. I will be collaborating in the most simple, methodical and incremental labors of love and self-clarity that seem to be at the foundation of any enduring human movement. I will be re-cycling my psyche towards repair with source and nurturance of the unruly earthly force in all of us. It is a great host of beings that have kindled my spirit and shown me our immediate agency in strengthening a love ethic sufficiently oceanic to embrace the pain and keep relating. The soil of the collective psyche feels rich for human ecologies rerooting in symbiotic networks, within and without, that can soothe this hurricane, and channel it too. Perhaps, everything we need is here.

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