Our bodies are not merely vessels.
Our bodies are instruments of inherent wisdom and pulsating aliveness – through which we can connect profoundly to ourselves, to each other, to earth and to the unseen.
We’re not here to live in numbness to ourselves, placating our instincts and desires with consumption or distraction. Nor to turn away from life
We’re not here to live in disconnection, inside bubbles that separate us from the ground beneath us, from the sound of the bee foraging just nearby, from the steadfast presence of the pine tree we walk past, from intimate relatedness with natural intelligences.
My work is an invitation– a call to turn towards ourselves, each other, and our lives with unabashed curiosity.
.
When asked about ‘high vibes’
I don’t want to raise my vibe, thanks.
I want my vibe to be low.
So low that only bats can detect my presence,
Flicking their leathery wings on my approach.
Low as the movement of earthworms through soil,
As roots searching always deeper for home,
Like instinct, seeking purely by scent of damp fur and musk.
Low like the distant storm or earthquake you can feel only in your bones.
Low like magma: dense, metallic & raw.
Low like imperfection, inconvenience,
trouble, mediocrity,
Like limitation.
A human life.
Like: saying the wrong thing sometimes, wearing the wrong thing sometimes,
low like being a foolish, ugly, broken being sometimes.
Low like… let’s stop fucking pretending, shall we?
These masks are painful for us all, they make it hard to breathe.
Down here it is generous, there is always space on the low mossy rocks, on the dark earth.
In the low, the slow,
the nowhere to get to and nowhere to go.
I want my vibe to be low.
Low like the hum of the unseen webs that live beneath the forest,
like the sound of grasses on the riverside moving in the evening wind,
like the songs of whales, full bellied, full bodied with longing and loss.
I don’t want to raise my vibe, thanks.
I want my vibe to be low.
So low that only bats can detect my presence,
Flicking their leathery wings on my approach.
Low as the movement of earthworms through soil,
As roots searching always deeper for home,
Like instinct, seeking purely by scent of damp fur and musk.
Low like the distant storm or earthquake you can feel only in your bones.
Low like magma: dense, metallic & raw.
Low like imperfection, inconvenience,
trouble, mediocrity,
Like limitation.
A human life.
Like: saying the wrong thing sometimes, wearing the wrong thing sometimes,
low like being a foolish, ugly, broken being sometimes.
Low like… let’s stop fucking pretending, shall we?
These masks are painful for us all, they make it hard to breathe.
Down here it is generous, there is always space on the low mossy rocks, on the dark earth.
In the low, the slow,
the nowhere to get to and nowhere to go.
I want my vibe to be low.
Low like the hum of the unseen webs that live beneath the forest,
like the sound of grasses on the riverside moving in the evening wind,
like the songs of whales, full bellied, full bodied with longing and loss.