Every day, every moment, we are pouring into something.

It can either be our seeming past, our trauma residue, our upbringing and conditioned beliefs…

Or it can be our now.

The us who we WANT to be.

The us who we KNOW is the truth of ourselves.

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I’ve been fighting my body again.

Waging a war on the battleground of my physical home.

Again.

But this time, it’s been insidious.

No anaphylaxis twice a month like in childhood.

No being laid up for weeks on end with migraines and allergic reactions.

Even the MDI {multidirectional instability in joints/ligaments} is mild compared to what it was years ago.

I say insidious because it’s been showing up as a malaise.

A mental and physical inertia that has held the voices and chronic reactivity of years past.

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I spent a decade and a half in a chronic freeze trauma response after my grandma passed.

And one of my favorite people on the planet, my uncle, passed right after.

There is a full three months that I completely lost, as in I have no recollection of anything. ANYthing.

I just woke up one day, standing in the middle of the wellness center I was running, and realized three months had passed and I remembered none of it.

But that wasn’t the moment I realized I was in a trauma response.

I was still so IN it, that I couldn’t SEE it.

Years later, what woke me up again was the longing.

The hungering in my body and bones to MOVE, to FLOW, to remember myself as being fully ALIVE once more.

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Grief is like that.

Systemic and chronic trauma are like that.

One day, you’re just this THING.

Going through some semblance of a motion of a day of a life.

And then the next, a primordial gong has been rung, sending reverberations through your body and life and soul.

We can ring our own gong, you know.

Because we ARE the gong.

We are the ringing.

We are the reverb.

And there will come a day when, again, you are ready to be rung.

When the howling and the longing have made their way through the miasma and the muck.

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And you will meet yourself there.

Not the last version of you.

Not the you who you were before the grieving and the trauma went down.

But an older you.

Not old as in linear time.

Old as in ancient, infinite.

You will meet an evolution of you… who is rawer.

More laid bare.

Because you have seen things.

You have remembered things.

You have lived in the grey liminal space between worlds, between time, between you.

And how could you not be changed?

How could you not be more of that which you truly are?

How could you not have less space for the colonized and human centric and phobic fuckery we are so woefully born into?

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Is there a point, then?

To this reawakening?

To this musing?

Hmmmm…

A decision point, perhaps.

When you’re ready for it to be so.

When it can ONLY be so.

A waypoint of fecundity and loss…

Interwoven into the thread of which you now are.

And in the deciding, you get to become MORE.

More of that which you were always going to remember and evoke.

More of that which you were encoded to believe was impossible or illogical for you.

More of that which you SAY it now is, simply because You Are.

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Yes yes. I hear you.

But what’s the POINT of it all?

Well, the point is the point.

The point of the spear and where you aim yourself.

The point of your choosing and what you lean into WITHIN each choice.

The point of the pause between that which you were and that which you have ever and only always BEEN.

Ah, but you want a DIRECTIONALITY and an ACTIONING of the point.

We see, we see.

In that, then, we offer you this:

If the battle you are waging within yourself became the revolution you are here to lead AS yourself…

What would you unceasingly use this moment for?

What would you COMMAND this moment now be FOR?

And then live into that.

Breathe into that.

And let it breathe life back into you.

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As always…

Here’s to your untaming,

N

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P.S.:

I am a Medicine Walker.

I asked.

God.

The ancestors.

A few years ago.

And this was what came through.

This was what was bestowed upon me, into me.

I already knew it, of course, though I didn’t have the words FOR it until then.

But I knew, just as you know what it is that you ARE.

And part of what I am is being fucking MAGIC at seeing the multidimensionality and madness of you.

Of helping you access, unleash, and surrender into the medicine of you.

Of alchemizing all that you’ve been through and that you’ve known into a primordial brand and message and liberation of your everything.

The art and the impact and the soul.

Together.

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I see what you have been taught you couldn’t see, or couldn’t allow, without consequence.

I see the next steps {and the vision beyond the vision}.

I hold you in the fire and help you create worlds.

I help you remember who the fuck you are…

And become the intoxicating AF embodied + erotic evocation of your everything.

Now. Like, right damn now.

This is my movement. My body of work.

This is Erotic Abolitionism™.

And we begin on the individual level and then merge that with the collective level.

In all that you touch and all that you are.

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I’m opening up some single sessions as well as year long mentoring.

The single sessions are 90 minutes of you and me in the quantum and interoceptive realms of you…

And what you know that you know that you KNOW you want to experience as that, in the instantaneous now.

The year long private client work is… the shit.

It is you saying yes and pouring yourself into every last fucking aspect of your life.

And the worlds you are here to initiate into and as you.

It is not for the faint of heart.

Nor is it for anyone looking for a bypassing of the intimacy born of the intersections {what I call Tending Points} of identity, psyche, and soul.

It’s the most powerful work I have ever offered.

So…

If you want me as your Erotic Muse, Multidimensional Mentor, and Mystery Broker…

In either a single session or for the ongoing portal and transmutation of the next year…

Text me or DM me on IG and tell me why you, why me, why this, and why now.

And I’ll send you over some deets and we can go from there.

I love you.

You are loved.

Grief, trauma, miasma, and muck can make for a whole lot of pain…

And they can also make for a fertile soil of the immutable expression of soul.

Artists were made for a time such as this.

YOU were made for a time such as this.

If this is your moment, let’s get this shit.