Celebrating 8years of mutual inter-tangling and cthonic meanderings with this marvelous mycophillic trickster being.

Thanking the mysterious holy pattern for drawing us together in the jungles of Peru, where our sonic utterances could meet and awaken the wild ecstatic in one another and take us along for the ride of all rides.

The arc of this adventure has drawn us across the seas and planted us on Wurundjeri Country, where the ghosts have unravelled us with precision… And composted (and composting still), we find our mycelial fingers stretching down through the moist, dark folds into the caverns of secret faces asking to be taken in and made into something different… The fruit of something real and perhaps even a little more whole?

Clearly saying yes to a love like this, ongoingly, is the gift of wings…

But the price of flight is a relentless dark mirror and a making-of-space for all that is ugly and broken within us.

Today I give thanks for a mutually co-arising love that is devoted to feeding what hurts until it blooms.

May this entangled, ecstatic and yet utterly ordinary sanctuary hold us until our bones are dust and our stories dissolve into the great tide