About The Cosmic Moon Tree

Frankly, across my lifespan, such that it is, I’ve felt like a figment of someone else’s imagination. Dogmatic assumptions about the cosmos paired with some nonsense masquarading as culture has left me with an evaporated sense of being. I feel parched, barren, dead. More importantly I feel extracted and freeze dried. I’m the living dead instead of breath in flesh. I live in a cannibalistic culture with an expectation that this literal fuckery foo is life giving, life sustaining, and love.

N.e.f.a.r.i.o.u.s. B.u.l.l.s.h.i.t.

This is a place of rewilding. It’s a place of fractured shards of stories, events, interpretations, and disembodied numbness. It’s not rehabilitation of old broken pieces, but sifting, observing, reflecting, and renewing into something that flinks more like reality embedded in story-formed memory.

I’m digging through beliefs, traditions, myths, stories, perceptions, observations, reflections, and sensations piecing together life giving through relational knowing. It’s ending human domestication.

That’s why I call it rewilding. It isn’t ideology, it’s experiential wonder.

I create reflective doodling full of shadows, grey zones, blue skies and rain. It’s full of forests and liminal spaces. Sometimes it’s the strong sun on mountain tops and grasslands, and sometimes it’s the cool wet places of forests, oceans, rivers, lakes, and wetlands. It’s everything in-between. It’s ecological, wild, and full of the sound of the pulsating life that runs through this planet.

I’m out here breathing, expressing, igniting, restoring, reclaiming, and pointing to the naked emperors parading around in all their earthen glory. I’m hoping my body heals as it reveals the shit stomping parade in favor of a better cosmology.

This is just my way of saying what I’ve carried around as someone else’s imaginary creature. I’m someone’s monster in the shadows lurking with made up claws and brewing hemlock and cursing cattle. If I’m going to be viewed like this, I’m hoping to start a Satanic panic then.

I’m watching the world collapse in on itself under its fear mongering, power lusting, survival brain delusion and I wait. My place is in reassembly options. I hope to offer restoration, hospitality, embodied reconnection, revelation, and another voice for the earth. I’m on the journey too. No expertise. Just full scale embodiment. It’s more autobiographical than academic. It’s more skin in the game than the scientific method. It’s full of bad grammar and typos, devastating mistakes, unresolved shame, and situated but ever developing peace. It’s paradoxical and holds complex emotions, like webs of life, gently, abrasively, and aggravatingly unwilling to let shame silence me into playing along. It’s the full mess of being human in an imperfect world.

It’s time to rewild. It’s time to be unmanageable. It’s time to end human domestication. It’s time to dance happily around the cosmic moon tree.

#End Human Domestication. #Rewild