The definition of Howl is to utter a loud profound mournful cry. Used across cultures and time periods in a variety of rituals and practices as a way to connect with others and give rise to primal energy, as well as connect with the spiritual world, honour ancestors, invoke protection, and release emotions. My howl is the thing I do to release emotions and connect, the howl as art form, song, poem, it makes the now, the present moment alive when I share that with those present with me. It’s also about the staggering amount of things that led to ones existence, how part of me, the things that make up my body were there at the beginning of time, the atoms, the elements of our bodies were formed in the hearts of long dead stars over billions of years. Then there’s what all of our ancestors lived through, the magic of consciousness, survival, all of the dangers that wired us to be the way we are, spirituality, respect for the earth, and I see the way life is organised through this historical understanding how we got to this point, civilisations, feudalism, colonialism, patriarchal power, the witch hunts and and how they were instrumental in the transition to capitalism, the crushing of indigenous traditions and knowledge, all of these histories and institutions shape who I am today, I mourn for the suffering caused in the pursuit of power, but they can’t touch my soul and I have my howl to connect, release and invoke spiritual energy, most potently in the ritual of creativity and performance.

I was there at the birth of infinity. The whole of history is where my story begins

a moment in time and the birth of all things. The now is alive. Healing in the neoliberal world. Maybe the chemicals didn’t help, maybe my appointed angels already got burned out by me, I’m trying here but I can’t live on self care and therapeutic metaphors. The war machine is in full swing. We’ve become used to the violence, like it’s not happening to a real person, like it’s not all for land, money and power. If we don’t wake up, we’ll be gone, another civilisation reaching for the skies and returned to the earth. I see the white dove of peace caught on the wire. Asleep in my enemy’s dream. Whatever we’re doing in this unfathomable realm, we are learning, we are the universe experiencing itself. Trauma is a coin with two sides that can open up portals in the mind. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, the machine, eat it! Leave it in the past, turn it into seeds.

And I thought it was me, burning through the night. Falling in love with the moon as she pulls the tides. Is there a set of cards with our names on somewhere? Was that really every one? Bones heavy, dream past. This too shall pass. Once melted down into parts, the dealer played, and I lost didn’t I? The magic, the mountains. It’s not the filling of a pail, its a lightning bolt that wakes you up and starts a fire on your tongue. Breathe and write. Learning lessons, picking yourself up and dusting yourself down and remembering your divinity, the constellations in your eyes. You’re falling fast, the bad news is you don’t have a parachute, the good news is the ground is not coming, ever. Let go, surrender. Memories they rust. Offer it and let it go, put it in a ritual. Send it to the night.