Face the west at dusk anoint your wrists with sandalwood and take eleven deep breaths.
Leave your dog at home.
Bare feet earthed reach fingertips to the sky
(keep your soles on The Mother while reaching your soul towards The Mother)
Take eleven more breaths.
Shoot fire from your lungs scream until the flames light the sky all red and glowing.
Drop to your knees
Fill your palms with fresh earth—sand will work but mud is best. Earth in hand press palm into palm
Take eleven more breaths and with each breath think of the children and the stars and the ocean waves sun-kissed crashing against the coastline
be thankful for your mother (even if she was wicked!
she birthed you) apologize for ever thinking yourself a villain (you were trying) think of the lips from the first kiss that was wanted (forget the rest) think of your lungs think of your breathing think of the miracle in each breath remind yourself to keep breathing, always accept your gifts
Silently sit enveloped in the cricketed air remember you are not just soul but also animal who yearns and prowls and preys
Remember that it’s important to stay hungry to have that bit of wild that howls at the moon and craves more.
About the author: Azia Archer is a mother, writer, maker and, lover currently living in Minnesota. She is the author of ATOMS & EVERS (dancing girl press, 2017). You can find her online via Twitter @aziaarcher.