is the very twisty-turny process of interrogating paradoxes and mysteries, tailspins, mindfucks, paradigm shifts, surprises and demands as they necessitate, or rather, serve as catalysts for you to change.
I say ‘interrogate’ because those shifts, knocks, and challenges rock you to your soul, burn up the underbrush, and force you to dig into the earth, to spiral in and grapple for your roots.
Digging, you bend and you sway, maybe you drum, maybe you dance.
Rhythm and moving– which comes first or does it matter?
Below ground you reach for other hands, other fingers to hold to– like the Aspen trees, all one organism.
Above ground, you reach as well, reach, and in the sun, ripen, watch the underbrush of past or painful present burn, just burn.
Throw more into the fire and let its warmth pull you closer in, transfixed by the fuel of fumes, of flame, of your source, destroying and making way, giving over to the
air thick and heady.
The more that burns, the more dead fruit you let drop, the more you can picture the fire in your very belly.
The more that gathers behind your eyelids and travels to the cells of your tree-lungs and comes out the pores of your fingers, your leaves and branches.
The more fruit.
The more heavy, juicy, potent fruit.
You have chosen it, your tears have reincarnated it, it has been nurtured by the steam of the fire that has moved to your belly, and it is good. It is so good. You can see/smell/feel that now.
Its perfume sparks like fireflies that blink at and wake the other trees, who squeeze your hands underground.
They squeeze so thankfully that they create a pulse, a rhythm traveling connecting root and branches.