Listening to Leon Bridges {obvi}.

And it dropped me into the flow of it all.

Into what our peeps want from us.

What the magic craves for us.

What soul beseeches of us.

The wild, erotic, messiness of it all.

The sidewinding, untamable truth of that which we were always going to remember and become.

It howls for us.

It cries out for us.

To let go.

To let go of the banks.

We hold on because we are afraid the current will take us under.

But under what?

We are the rushing water.

We are the waves.

We are the bottom.

Take me to your river.

Show me who the fuck you are.

State it.

Claim it.

Submerge yourself in it.

As it.

Rise from the swirling torrent of what HAS been.

Show me what it IS, baby.

Take me to your river.

Drown me in your mystery.

Raise me up from the forgotten void.

Breathe life into me.

Remind me of what clean air tastes like.

Take me to your river.

I wanna go.

‍

As always…

Here’s to your untaming,

N

‍

P.S.:

I am the fucking river.

As are you.

Isn’t it time to stop pretending otherwise?

That you were ever less than the primordial itself in form {and formlessness}?

They say everything you want is on the other side of fear.

But what if fear is just the flip side?

The B side?

Of your desires. Of your sovereignty. Of your love.

What if there is no “other” side to get to, in order to be free?

To create wild?

To live full out {and drop fully IN}?

What if everything you want is simply here. Now. This. You.

Would you say yes and bare your everything?

If so…

Let’s make magic together, Wild One.

Let me know if you want the deets for my creativity + {re}wilding mentorship.

And we’ll shapeshift 2022 into one that changes it alllllll.