Honing + Homing– mission statements for the New World

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I do not come to you with an abundance of formal certifications– none, actually, save for a Bachelors in Media Studies now over ten years ago. I have learned as our ancestors learned– through the natural world, from story, in community, in communion with spirit, and from direct experience.

I did not come to this work because it interested me. I came because my life depended on it.

At 21, I was Managing Editor of a glossy arts magazine in my home neighborhood. At 25, I was managing high-level corporate clients as a digital project manager for a rapidly growing tech start-up. At 30, I became Director of Public Programs for a world-renowned outdoor art museum, NYC park, and community event space. I have self-published 4 books and performed all over the city in venues large and small.

I have wanted to end my life many, many times. I have suffered through the literal shattering of my container so that I could expand to more fully accommodate my truest Self. I was arrested for spreading positivity through poetry graffiti. Ended up an outpatient in an addiction treatment center after my relationship– with a man struggling mightily with hard drug addiction– exploded. Lived years and years of compounded, unresolved interpersonal trauma and codependency. And was diagnosed bipolar II and anxiety disorder in 2018.

With the help of alternative frameworks, earth-based traditions, radical vulnerability, community in the human and more-than-human worlds, and the “mythic remediation” that comes with recontextualizing my Life as Legend– I have arrived in this Place that allows me to come to you As I Am, to meet You, As You Are.

I am interested in Ecopsychology and its practice of Ecotherapy because it brings me new vocabulary for the deeply interconnected, reverential, poetic, mythic, wild realms I have inhabited my whole life, but especially over the past 5 years of descent and healing. I am naturally inclined to help you walk between worlds and reclaim your birthright as a wondrous creature on this precious earth, privy to the generative wisdom and inner/outer adventures that extend so far beyond our purely mental capacities as well the mortal realm.

I am here to shatter traditional narratives and disempowering, oppressive, disconnected frameworks in the way that my own was shattered– to remind you that there is a framework that already exists, that already belongs to you, as you belong to it.

During my time in the addiction treatment center, one day in group a man who never ventured to say anything, for weeks, suddenly spoke– and he said, “You have to rewrite your own legacy. Because if not they’re going to be standing around your casket saying– ‘He never got a hold of that, did he? He never kicked it.'” On the way out of the room I told him, “I liked what you said about rewriting your legacy.” And he replied– “You have to, or someone else will.”

NOVA.

channeled + wrote this morning.
spoken + shared with YOU.

***

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A MESSENGER?

right after i wrote that sentence a shiny big red heart balloon floated into my windowframe. it floated on the air before landing in the back yard of the house where i live. balloons from nowhere have been a sign from my nana not long after she passed. that and the encouraging rainbows i’ve been seeing in windows– first randomly in brooklyn, and then in several houses i passed during my morning walk in the in-between times.

i am being called to deliver this Legend. my fear stops me– not fear of what i have to say. not fear of being seen. but fear of having my voice fall silent. there is so much noise– how to cut through it? how to reach people when you cannot physically be with them?

i am reminded again– speak plainly, and even just for yourself, your voice will be heard.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A MESSENGER?

i think i have subconsciously always been drawn to it– growing, as i got older, to accept it as my true duty– because inherently there is a letting go, a releasing, that is required. the messenger is the messenger no matter the circumstance. it is something that is beyond you– something you need to ‘move out of the way’ for, ‘keep yourself pure’ for, treat yourself kindly, for– so that it can move through you, and out into the world. something that is greater than you, but that comes from you.

each of us have this ability, and often we silence it.

yesterday i was asked, while the clinician from the counseling center drafted up a safety plan for me– what is worth being alive for?
and i realized in that moment– it was me. it had to be me. just me.

it is this inherent worth i have been seeking for many years, and certainly most acutely in my adult life– especially the past five years spent wandering the wilderness.

to step back– and give yourself permission.
to release your story.
to be Seen, as you are.
to soften and ACCEPT and let PASS the feelings and sensations that come through you.
to remember what it feels like to be, purely, a receptor..
you do not judge what you are receiving, you just be with it. which is even a subtler form of witnessing, for me– witnessing feels divorced and cold, sometimes, when i think of it.
this is a Seeing. a Being With. an Accepting. and a–
Creation of Safety, Within.
so that Whatever It Is you Receive– you know that you will be Safe in being with it, experiencing it, acknowledging it.

we have developed triggers and defense mechanisms that do not belong to us.
i have very many that i did not realize for a very long time.
in my discovery of them, i was bent on analyzing them– this, has always, given me fascination, control, obsession.
i deeply, deeply want to understand.
i deeply, deeply want to know.
but because i am a storyteller– because i take stock of my life in its episodes, its adventures, its memories, its STORIES– i began dragging this tome around with me. it has stooped my posture, and lowered– sometimes even obliterated– my ability to see through and into the Present Moment. into the Expansivity that is my birthright. because, of course– there is a life history here.
there is a sense of Self that is based on what has happened in the past. based on trauma. based on learned behaviors, inherited behaviors. and things we needed to do in order to survive.

i have realized, over the past day or so– in a way that is more alive than i have before– that there exists a Pain Body.
it is this Pain Body that is holding the hulking tome. not even carrying it– clutching it. offering it to you whenever you try to cast out into the Wild Unknown.
here, it shows you, reminds you. it remembers every single moment, every single page.
here, remember when you failed.
here, remember when you were betrayed.
here, remember when you felt smaller than small, worthless.
here, remember when you tried– here, and here, and here, and here. and it didn’t work.

i do not feel this force as malevolent.
it just Is, what it Is. as All Things Are.
it is a victim and product of its circumstance.

but You Are Not.
You Are Not.

i do not wish to destroy the Pain Body.
i have learned inside my Legend– that violence is not the way. force is not the way.
it is an Allowing, a Being With, a sure-footed present consciousness– that allows things to release, to Flow, for Highest Good.

i See myself, in my mind’s eye– where i have experienced so many things– guides, gifts, quests, signs and symbols–
i See myself taking the tome from the Pain Body. with its missing skin and its patchiness, its shackles and punctures, its hardened, sad eyes– its relinquishment of Trust, to be Seen. to be Touched.
why would i want to continue hurting this creature?
why would i want to continue punishing this creature— telling it how small it is, how worthless, in agreement– of what it already feels and believes it is, and is Not?
this is where the Great Work happens. the Allowing. the Accepting. the pivot we are all being called to make, right Now–
is an internal one. as they often are. but we remain distracted– by everything Else.

i was Met today, on that walk in the morning in-betweens– by my black wolf and my white wolf. they were those with whom i began this quest, long ago and just yesterday– all Time is all the Same.
we walked under the archways and stood before a towering stone support for the bridge above us–
but all i saw in my mind was a radiant stained glass, not unlike ones i had seen in lofty, ornate cathedrals.
in that stained glass i saw the Newness. i saw NOVA. i saw my Self.
and the black wolf, standing beside me, was his half-hybrid, half-human self.
and the white wolf, now, too– was a beautiful woman with white wings flowing from her temples.
i understood the Union. i understood the Balance.
i understood the other pages in this story– i could not fully understand, at the Time.

who is coming to Be With the Pain Body?
it is this reunited Self. this reconstructed Self. a Self that has existed and yet has never existed, at the same Time.

i realized once more that when we feel Sovereign and Safe in our bodies, we can hear the messages Clearly.
they transform effortlessly and shift from the riddles or metaphors into plain spoken truth.
days ago– as in many times during my Legend– i actually did not want to kill myself. i did not want to die.
my Spirit was EXPANDING radically– in ways the old world, the old container– Could. Not. Hold.

we have a Choice, in every Moment.
be obliterated with the old container. the one that was too small to hold us. the one that restricts us.
or create a New Container for the Winged Self. one that can truly support the fuller Wing-Span.

that is who i saw on that stone wall turned mystical stained glass window, underneath the bridge.
standing in the park with my shimmering guides that only my internal eyes could see.

NOVA. do you know where this name came from?
a child had written with chalk on some stones that i stumbled upon, at the base of a tree.
“fairy house.”
and on the rock sitting above it– “HI NOVA.”

sometimes we are recognized by Spirit, by Wonder, in ways we cannot yet acknowledge ourselves.

yet this is the Work, and the Work i invite you to do, with Me, With and For Your Self.

this Newness is an ever-present Gift. this burst of a star, this beginning.
but it can only be given PERMISSION– SAFETY– KINDNESS– AGENCY– with which to begin–
if we gently remove the tome of our Past Lives from the grasping, tired hands of the Pain Body.
you may Burn it, or you may Bury it. it is no matter.
the ritual happens Inside.
i understand now that the more important thing– the most important thing– is not what happens to that book of the Past.
it’s what future-creating action is set into motion– when you sit down beside the Pain Body.
and let your Highest Self re-teach it how to Feel. Accept Love. Accept Touch. and Heal.

i thank you for the opportunity to flow this through me today.
it is not the Last, and not the First.
but the Present, Ever, and Always.

NOVA**.

THE BOOK OF LEGEND 9.5.19

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YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE IN SOMETHING.

as i’ve learned through the journey, especially over these past 4 years, that belief is tied to the greater cosmos– but it ultimately has to come from YOU. you define your mythos. you define what role you play on the quest. if you choose to be the hero or not, and what that hero is like.

i have been deep underground and in the clouds, hosting for hundreds in my park-wonderland, and curled in corners of darkness more profound than i could’ve ever fathomed. i have felt the pure anger, rage, and sorrow. the ecstatic joy, boundless creation, and revelation. i have lived with greater courage, with more violently sharpened highs and lows of feeling, fantasized sometimes endlessly about leaping a bridge, died a thousand times and unlocked doorways and gateways i never thought existed. i didn’t have to be Here right now, but I AM– i chose To Be.

this BOOK is what i have to show for it. this BOOK is the crystallization of the legend that kept me alive.

my fourth book, THE BOOK OF LEGEND, is released today.

september 5 2019– my hero, freddie mercury’s birthday– while i am on my first overseas trip to my father’s birthplace in southern italy, to stand with the legend i have created, and Heal The Lineage. to stand proudly and proclaim– i am here to DO IT DIFFERENTLY. i am here to break the cycles and the patterns. i am here to dismantle what has shackled us– and create Anew.

but what does LIVING YOUR LEGEND mean? for me, it is a mode of creative recontextualization and reframing that allows you to more freely steer the currents of your life. it is an act of resistance against what we are given, diagnosed, warned against, told– and a stand FOR a deep and often treacherous engagement with our unique and personal Truth. this BOOK is comprised of shamanic stories that channeled through me, characters that became guides and spirits on my quest, and personal essays and prayers on what it means to fully live through what joseph campbell called the hero’s journey– to walk with the freedom to form our own narratives and meanings about the feelings and events we experience. to TAKE RESPONSIBILITY for what befalls us, what we inherited, what circumstance we find ourselves in– and alchemize it into a web of personal myth and legend that gives us the strength to not only Go On, but to carry our message forward to help others.

this is also my first time standing unequivocally as a STORYTELLER. i could say that this BOOK is fiction, but it’s not. the excerpts i included in my last collection, WILDLIGHT, are continued here– from the light wolf and dark wolf to the dragon in the mystic lagoon to arcturus the bear guardian to the wanting creature turned saint of the sword to the meeting of the ego inside the legend– and the great green lion…

* * *

“i invite you
into the world i inhabit.

a world of Legend, of danger, of beauty. of nature and guiding spirits announcing themselves to you at every moment– the understanding of a living poetry that requires only an open heart to receive, to hear.

we are all shamanically inclined, we are all messengers. we
are all standing at the Dark Door waiting to guide ourselves
back to ourSelves.

as the days grow shorter and the light lower, you may fear but
do not despair.

walk into the Night.
walk into the Night fearless in your fearfulness.
heartbroke in your wholeness.
trusting in your distrust.

let your eyes adjust to the Darkness.

create a tether to your Legend so you can find your way back– you will cling hard to it at first, look constantly over your shoulder for the last shards of light from whence you came.. but the further you walk the less you will need the tether.

you will realize it is woven inside you, in your heart, in your Choosing of your every step.

and you won’t even dream of going back.
you will greet the Endless in proceeding through the Dark Door.

because in the everything you will see Nothing.
and in the nothing you will see Everything.

all will be as it was, at the origin. before god lit a match.

and the Legend was given breath, to Begin.”

* * *

“there is a potentiality for this legendary existence– in everyone. and it is not fairy stories or flights of fancy– for me it was the difference between remaining on earth or ending my life. it is VITAL– this kind of– energetic, imaginative creation in tandem with the flow of reality, a merged, enlivened, actual legendary life.

it requires being the different one. it requires being the madman. it requires shocking and alarming people, often the people you love. it requires being questioned. being challenged. willingly choosing the uncharted whether it means death or freedom because they are often the same thing. it requires caring less about your reputation or social standing– and more about the Truth.

there is a Way to live– that is not just for new-age practitioners, or the spiritually enlightened, or those who believe in ghosts or study the texts or understand scientific or psychoanalytic jargon.

it is a Lifestyle of Truth of the Spirit– of the ordinary man as extraordinary Legend, as meaning-making scribe at the right hand of whatever force you believe is writing the never-ending story– or isn’t.”

* * *

“I AM HERE TO ASK YOU, AS MANY OTHERS HAVE ASKED THEIR PEERS AT MANY PAST MOMENTS IN TIME– TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT THERE IS ANOTHER WAY. we have lost the value of the individual’s dive into his own psyche– to meet, accept, contend, or commune with whatever wondrous or treacherous existences he finds there. it is not just medication or the media, it is our culture as a whole– burying centuries of our own mythos that could serve as backbone to embolden us through our struggles, buried under constant thrumming noise. what if we accepted the necessary danger in a quest for the inmost self? what if we applied this to radical self-exploration, especially in the context of mental health and mental illness? what truths could be discovered on a brave journey to exalt and reclaim the most wonder-full and worthy hero there is… YOURSELF?”

* * *

GET THE BOOK and read more excerpts and notes from the journey RIGHT HERE
you can order direct from me for $8.00 via paypal or venmo

i will also be celebrating the BOOK, and world mental health day, with two events in astoria during the week of OCTOBER 7, including a film screening, activities and resources, and honest discussion. A PRAYER TO SEE & BE SEEN: creative reframing for mental health & well-being. this is just the beginning of getting this message out there– if you would like to collaborate, hold an event, or host a workshop/engagement please let. me. know. this is advocacy not just for mental health/mental illness but for a reclamation of our journeys from all that is mired in the laws of the old world, and untrue.

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teach others to See by Seeing.
teach others to Understand by Understanding.
lead others to Walk by Walking.
but walk Beside them and not in Front.
walk With them as i walk With you.
and we shall see these coming days already in fruition,
in every righteous action resolving inaction,
in every fiery force of Love dissolving fear.

aho my friends & loves, i thank you whole-heartedly for Seeing me, for your kindness and encouragement, for your love and creativity, for your connection to and support of my world and my Work.

i hope to see you on the Path–

XXOO

a.

paths in the pathless wilderness: mental health advocacy

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“i write today because i am still alive. i write today from inside, outside, and on the other side of the underworld. i write because, in legendβ€” the hero always returns with the story. and in the hero’s journey, in factβ€” this is the very purpose. i write today because legend saved my life in a way that nothing else couldβ€” not a diagnosis, not modern medicine, not the concern of loved ones or colleagues, not any traditional path that i was prescribed…”

in recent years i have come to realize and internalize that the best way to tell my story– or any story, for that matter– is to speak it plainly.

i marvel at where this website began, over 10 years ago– a place to house my work as a young arts journalist, which in many ways avoided inclusion ofΒ what wasΒ deeply and actually going on with me— thatΒ gradually grew into this space of radical honesty, performance, curation, and experimentation across many genres. it is inΒ this moment that i type here and reflect– a few short weeks to my 33rd birthday– so grateful for the hard-won heartwork and legend i have come to accept as my own.

‘for this i was born, and for this i have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth.’ -john 18:37.

after writing and self-publishing my third book, WILDLIGHT, creating my first alchemical theatre work, PROVENANCE, and being increasingly candid in person and on the internet (especially on instagram) of the places my journey was taking me– i have come to This Point. the point at which i encapsulate the stories and philosophies and lessons that have saved my life.

‘IF YOU BRING FORTH THAT WHICH IS WITHIN YOU,
THEN THAT WHICH IS WITHIN YOU
WILL BE YOUR SALVATION.
IF YOU DO NOT BRING FORTH
THAT WHICH IS WITHIN YOU
THEN THAT WHICH IS WITHIN YOU
WILL DESTROY YOU.’ –the gnostic gospels.

i added a MENTAL HEALTH ADVOCACY page to my website this morning– even though this journey is not JUST about mental illness, or meant for those who are suffering with the same– mental illness and mental health are inherently about the journey to reclaim your life and the state of your soul, from all those other destructive and un-true stories that do not belong to you. in the greater, greatest scheme–Β we are being called to a new reality.Β one we create with our own hearts, our own hands, our own imaginations– free-dreaming and manifesting in tandem with the creator force energy that shaped our world.

i am currently working on a new book and performance/workshop series seeking to explore these spaces in ways i began with PROVENANCE, WILDLIGHT, and my ‘widening circle’ open mic/open share gatherings, but now– further. it is the merging of poetry, prose, story, ritual, improvisation, spirit work, and sacred/safe space facilitation– and it begins. HERE.

‘one thing is certain. the search for this savior calls for a pathfinder. someone who is capable of finding paths in the pathless wilderness, and who will shrink from no danger and hardship. in other words– a HERO.’ –michael ende, ‘the neverending story.’

AN EXCERPT– from what is forthcoming—

the stories are not just things i choose to writeβ€” now i am living them, experiencing them, inside them. it is reality that i defineβ€” and that no one defines for me. and the more i feel into it, explore it, believe it, trust itβ€” the more i see the truth of where stories, where meaning itself, emanated fromβ€” in the first place. this is the place of legend. this is the hero’s journey, in real time. this is the odyssey, the great quest, the incredible journeyβ€” it is in your life, right here, right now.

i do not come to make a map for you, to plot the course for youβ€” you and only you alone can do this. my guides will not be your guides, my legend will not be your legend. but it is my hope in sharing where i have been, what i have been throughβ€” that a potentiality for yours will burst open or begin to blossom.

if it is a choice betweenβ€” having solely the options you are being presented withβ€” and alternatively, the options that you and only you can write, create, and describeβ€” what do you wish for? power stripped or power reclaimed? darkness traversed or darkness feared? a broken mind that needs to be fixedβ€” or a teeming landscape of lesson and legend that you can bravely quest and explore?

this is not for the faint of heart. this is not easy. this is not clean. this is not without struggle. without blood. without nearing the edges of existence, the edges of death.

but in my heart, and in my opinionβ€” if we all heave a last breath anyway, and either wayβ€” why not fill your living lungs with the breath of adventure, and leave a story behind along the way?

why not begin a quest to exalt and reclaim and rediscover the most wonder-full and worthy hero there is… yourself?

[read the full piece here]

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much more to come. i feel, i know–

for the pathless wilds

for the unfathomable

and the holy unknown,

XO

a.

the dangers in cartography.

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the terrifying thing about choosing your own context for mental illness is that you often end up hurting/scaring the people closest to you, and hurting/scaring yourself.

it is not like an outwardly manifested affliction in that- no one would say to you, just stop having cancer. get up from your wheelchair. get your vision back. look how much everyone loves you- stop dying.

no one makes you feel like- you are doing it on purpose. you are willing it. you are purposely isolating, not picking up the phone, disappearing, not going to work. no one makes you feel like what is happening to you is wrong. like it’s your responsibility for failing everyone you love, for failing yourself.

what IS the same, though- is how people react upon choosing an alternative path to healing. in a similar way you would in choosing a raw food diet instead of chemotherapy. a visit to a shaman instead of a hospital. time communing with yourself, your spirits and guides, and your rituals- instead of a trained professional. this is the hurt that everyone who chooses a different way feels- that what they are doing is dangerous. that no one trusts them with their own healing. that maybe they should not put so much trust in themselves.

mental illness is particular in this fashion. and once you choose not to follow the paradigm given to you- that you are broken and need to be fixed, that you have a chemical imbalance that endangers your life- the road you proceed to traverse has no map.

and in making the map for yourself, sometimes, like last night, you will find yourself in willing seclusion. hiding like a child, getting as small as you possibly can in the darkness, while three of the most important people in your life stand on your doorstep, on three separate occasions- ringing your bell, scratching your window, calling to you. txting and calling, communicating to each other, in increasing alarm.

sometimes no disappearance is enough disappearance, for the hurt you feel. the hurt that washes over you, primordial and unending. you are told you are loved. you are told you have a place to go. you are told you can have anything you want. threatened, even, by this immediateness, franticness, of affection- you get even smaller. but the space is opened up, somehow- in which to trust.

how do i know which impulses to listen to? sometimes the path leads you away but it is only so you can trust enough to find your own answers. you know the path is true if it leads you back to your community, to the people you love.

despite how much you anger them. hurt them. how much you don’t make rational sense- it is not isolation indefinite. it is isolation to hear the answers- so to heal. so to return.

today i understood why i am creating my next show, PROVENANCE.

to show how this instability is the key in the lock to the power of my origin story. to show what it looks like, in actuality, to choose to create your own map. to hurt yourself, hurt the people you love. to bear the guilt and shame inherent in your affliction. to want to answer, open up, speak, accept an embrace, receive help- but simultaneously be completely unable to.

to dance at the edges of death, creation, eternal life. to find safety in the perceived danger. growth and fecundity in the darkness. so to understand- your holy wild self. so to ascribe sacred meaning to- your finite moments on earth.

i look forward to continuing this journey.
and sharing with you, in three dimensions, what i’ve learned.

XO

a.

WILDLIGHT LIVES.

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HOW TO BUY:

WILDLIGHT is available for purchase directly from the author via PayPal, for $18.00.

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Please note you do not need to have a PayPal account- simply choose “Pay with Debit or Credit Card” to check out as a Guest.

If you would like to use another payment method- feel free! You can send $18 via Venmo to audrey.dimola@gmail.com, or contact me for other options.

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the fact that this book exists means that there is triumph of the holy wild spirit over heartache, darkness, ruin, illness and dis-ease, lack of self-worth, addiction, depression, sorrow, death.

i cannot describe how proud i am of this piece of my heart, blood, and bones.

3 years, 258 pages.

i proudly present my third book of poetry and prose, WILDLIGHT.

available for you. NOW.

///

WILDLIGHT: POETRY & PROSE FROM INSIDE THE FIRE

MARCH 20, 2018 – SPRING EQUINOX

[MORE INFO ABOUT THE BOOK]

three years of blood, sweat, fire, heart, and LIVING have gone into this collection, plunging into the wildernesses of love, spirituality, addiction, sex, shamanism, mental health struggles, self-love, and rebirth.

///

β€œto all those
who reclaim their
spirits from darkness-
who resolve to protect
the body as an altar,
and keep the fire safe-
know there is an energy of
resilience that unites us all.
we may have to fight everyday-
but we never fight alone.

this is a book about reclamation.

about staying close to the fire. trusting in your wildlight.

it is a book about struggles with honesty, with identity. about all-consuming loves- passion, destruction, regeneration. about leaving and returning. about lack of self-love and self-worth. about mental illness and addictions. about the indomitable power of the human spirit. about reasons to live. about what happens when you break away from the life you thought you wanted- to walk into the wild. to be taught in ways only the universe can truly teach you- with blood, with sweat. with grief, and wonder. with fire. with heart.

it is a book about trying and trying and trying again…”

crack the spine of this book and the author will know it. this is an alchemical document- rubbed with earth, singed with flame. foundΒ curled inside the inmost core of an animal, fanged and feathered.Β each word a bone picked from an endless desert, blessed with tears and triumph from the road. β€œWILDLIGHT” was written from 2015 to 2017 by a shamanic poet and journeywoman who is most often likened to wildfire or supernova- this third collection of poetry and prose an act of sacred invocation that will keep howling at you even when its pages are closed.

THE POET IS UNAFRAID TO BECOME FULL WILDERNESS.

///

NYC PERFORMANCE & RELEASE PARTY:

March 24, 2018 3-5pm at Q.E.D.: A Place to Show & Tell in Astoria [Facebook]

more upcoming SHOWS

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READ SELECT PIECES FROM “WILDLIGHT”:
+ lazarus was a house on fire (WOMAN)
+ reliquary: the body
+ blue sky
+ peter (i want to be real)
+ studies in reaching
+ somewhere else
+ two wolves

THE JOURNEY ON INSTAGRAM:Β #wildlightbyajd

VIDEO FROM THE DAY I RELEASED THE BOOK:

XO with ecstatic love and FIREFIREFIRE,

a.

we only heal in spirals

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touch my mouth with your hands
touch my mouth with your hands
oh i want to understand
the meaning of your embrace
i know now i have to face, the temptations of my past
please don’t let me disgrace
where my devotion lays
now that i know the truth, now that it’s no excuse
keeping me from your love, what was i thinking of?
holding me from your love, what was i thinking of?

thank you lauryn. you are brilliant.

///

my words. #fromtoday.

sister fire spoke to me
she said put the antler back around your neck
know that there is a purpose in all you do
you get lost to get found you get lost to get found, girl
to show you yourself over and over that you can.
that you can.
sitting here with flickering flames in cups
salt lamp emanating radiance my hands
to your mouth put your hands to my mouth
let me remember how to pray
let me honor my own radiance
let me remember how to pray
there is darkness darkness only dark
down well-worn paths in my cognitive loops
i say pull the axe from the thornbush righteous one
i say cut i say cut a new way
you were not meant to die in darkness, my love
you were not meant to die right here
i know you want to lay until the vines steal your breath
take you back to where you came from heal the heart
returned to earth but i say i say my child
you must believe that the righteousness of the warrior
is inside your very being
i say go on you don’t need your eyes your hands
you do not need your feet or legs
you need the whole body burning spirit
led by your heart
my girl i say pick up the axe my love
and cut that new way
cut that new new new way
do not be disillusioned, heartbroken from
finding your way back here
she sings he’s just like water
she’s just like water
you are her she is him
sanctified these candle flames
in cups this salt rock glow on my lips
bid me to speak my love
let me remember how to live
stuck in the vines my girl
curled in the vines my girl
you have to get up
you have to get up
not wait for the light
cut a hole to the light
not wait for the light
cut a hole to the light
come on.
come on and on and on
crumpling days of protection
solar plexus you forget your
intention to grab your
bunches of feathers
jump that cliff and
commit to soar
the vines are growing around you, girl
the vines are stealing your breath, girl
what will you do?
what will you do?
do not be disillusioned by ending up here again
the candle flames in cups the salt rock lamp
we always heal in spirals
it’s the only way to find our way back
we always heal in spirals
it’s the only way to find our way back
do not be angry at your constitution
at your weakness at your ache
another man almost stole the life of you
but the bone in your backbone is back
not stiff but fluid not braced for impact but
impactful, my love
the only thing you can collapse into
is gentleness
is gentleness
is love
touch my mouth with your hands
my mother father goddess
touch my mouth with your hands
let me speak these words i
fought my way here to say
i will not die buried in the vines
i will not die buried in the vines
i will cut my own way.
someone once said
there is a way to die a
spiritual death
there is a way to
remember your lips
pressed
to the holiness
of a creator that
loves you
that you can finally
feel
because you finally
love yourself back
take yourself back
my girl my heart
be gentle if it seems like
it’s perpetually
on the mend
give it some time
you always fighting fires
making fires
spreading fires
keep the warmth
remember that the
next fire your spirit wants to feel is
the sun on your skin
on the other side of this
tunnel of black dark
my love
we can only heal in spirals
it’s the only way we can
find our way back.
i can only heal in spirals
it’s the only way i was able to
find my way back.

///

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“seeΒ fantasyΒ is what people want, butΒ realityΒ is what they need.. and i just retired from theΒ fantasyΒ part.”

///

“at that point, i had to do some dying.”

“artists do fall apart,” a record executive says. “the most commonly held falsity in the game is that they have it all together. they fall apart. […] they all have a moment where you go, ‘are they really all there?’ and i think lauryn chose to expose that to the world.”

bless up, queen.

bless up, brothers & sisters.

XO

a.

[[shows + events //Β what’s coming up]]

i speak

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i speak for the addicted
i speak for the mentally ill
i speak for those who need the woods to survive
i speak for the little girl who forgets she is a wildwoman
i speak for the lost boys and lost girls
i speak for those writing poems into a voice recorder while they ride their bike
i speak for those who won’t smile because they feel guilty
i speak for those who take responsibility for everything
i speak for the savage heart and the sacred life, the sacred breath
i speak for the roots who are constantly doing their work even though you can’t see them
i speak for the trees who are constantly purifying even if you don’t thank them
i speak for the fire on my altar who had to burn things to show them to me
i speak for the birds
i speak for nature who just states facts
i speak for all those who ride their bikes without holding onto the handlebars because it makes them remember there was a time when they knew how to be free
i speak for remembering to be free
i speak for the initiation, for the woman who was initiated, for the initiated woman
i speak for all those who are ashamed of what they’ve been through
i speak for all those who are afraid to be crazy
i speak for all those who take responsibility for themselves, who remember it is we and only we who can write our own legend
i speak for the cracking open and the sewing up with golden thread, healed
i speak for the alchemists
i speak for the wild ones
i speak for the fools
i speak for the messengers
i am the messenger
i speak for the cards in the tarot deck
i speak for the constellations
i speak for free will
i speak for the sins of the father and of the mother and how those sins are not ours
i speak for trying to take care of everyone else and never taking care of yourself
i speak for long bike rides in the cold because you know it will bring you closer to the tribe
i speak for the tribe
i speak of the tribe
i speak with the tribe
i stand by the tribe
i speak for going slower instead of faster
…
i speak for writing a poem on your bike and almost crashing into construction
i speak for reconstruction
i speak for reconfiguration
i speak for readjusting- to go forth, healed
i speak for the stolen generation
i speak for our shared history
i speak for the mother goddess
i speak for the divine feminine with the divine feminine as the divine feminine
i speak for finding a way back home
i speak for light, for legacy, for justice for myself
i speak for feathers on the ground
i speak for shamanism
i speak for poets
i speak for healing
i speak for trauma
i speak for forgiveness
i speak for recognition
i speak for sight
i speak for self worth- not because, or when, or if
i speak not of conditions
i speak of pain
i speak of grieving
i speak for grieving
i speak for duration
i speak for patience
i speak for balancing your elements, child
not just fire, not just wind- but earth. but water
i speak for power, strategy, and protection- of identifying your body through your body, your own body, your self
i speak for the metaphysical orgasm
i speak for the body but only because i listened when she talks i listen when she talks i listen when she talks and i hear her- now
i speak for my beautiful brain and its shadows- and its light
i speak for the altar in my heart- sacred blood that keeps it pumping
i speak for the scars
i speak for my river and my mountain and my rebirth and my reclamation
i speak for my goddess, my scientist, my wise woman, my self
i speak for all the children who think they don’t have a voice
i speak for all the children forced to keep their family’s secrets
i speak for all the adults forced to keep their family’s secrets
i speak for all the adults forced to keep their own secrets, in shame
i speak for the anesthetization of the body
i speak for the shaking
i speak for the wakening up
i speak for the howling out windows
i speak for the graffiti on the roof
i speak for the flapping of wings
i speak for the falling on your knees, praying into the earth
i speak for the cycle of life/death/life
i speak for the codependent
i speak for those that just want to be happy
i speak for those that just want to be loved
i speak for all those who think they’re not good enough for any of it
i speak for the man perched on the triboro bridge that night
i speak for my self, wailing in the night when you went missing
i speak for the sadness, for the depressed, the anxious, the manic, the bipolar, the suicidal urge- and the will that keeps us here
i speak for the hunger in my body, the restlessness in my soul that reminds me constantly there is a deeper nourishment that i must tap into- a nourishment beyond accolades, sustenance, sex, adoration
it is wild and it is free and it is whole and it comes out of me when i sing, when i let my rattle move, when i give my body to dancing, when i give my body-
safety
beauty
tribe
protection
Love with a capital L
i speak as the fierce prayer that is my life
i speak as the warrior
i speak as the gentleness
i speak as the transfiguration
i speak as the roots and the bearing fruit
i speak for the dead and for the living, and the dead who are alive, and the alive who are dead
i speak for the words on walls
i speak for the crown in the heart
i speak for the silence
i speak for the blue sky
i speak for the infinite abundance
i speak with the breath that creates the living word
i speak now and for every other day i am granted to be here
i speak for the plants that crack through the sidewalk
i speak the medicine
i am the medicine
i am the heart on fire flying eagle spirit
i am the fact that even as this prayer poem ends, it will reverberate-
create your echoes- brothers, sisters
create your echoes everywhere you walk-
find harmony
wildness
and acceptance
and bravery
and goodness
and truth
AHO.
– transcribed exactly as recorded into my phone while riding my bike, astoria to bed stuy, 11.12.17

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‘i liked what you said about rewriting your legacy.’
‘you got to. because if you don’t, someone else will.’

XO

a.

‘go slowly, see miracles’ the art installation experience

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go slowly, see miraclesΒ opens fri 5/20/16 from 6-10pm inΒ 43-01 21st street in long island cityΒ but will beΒ on view 12-6pm on saturday 5/21Β and sunday 5/22!

it’s a little after 2 in the morning and less than an hour ago i returned home from day 3 of my install for LIC arts open 6. sitting down at this blank page (computer screen?!) words just can’t seem to do it justice. carolina and richard from LICAO- thank you, thank you for this opportunity..

this is more than a project, an art installation, a room transformation.. it’s a commemoration. a milestone. this was one of those things- it emerged out of dreams, experiences, words, darkness. to think that- earlier this year, i was in a place where i couldn’t recognize myself, at all. the changes in my life completely displaced me- the decisions, the goodbyes, the wild adventures, the woods, the farms, the art, the risks, all certainty became uncertainty, grounded to a sudden halt. all unfamiliar, hollow, numb. i perceived the disassociation as a new norm.. but out of that darkness- came the beginnings of this. i’m a lifelong writer but also a lifelong artist. when words failed me- i worked with my hands. i worked with scratches and tears, collage, mixed media, the mysticism of found objects, ink and smears, fire. golden paint like byzantine halos. earthen material. the things i couldn’t say- i created. it was the only thing i could do, at that moment.

we often get stuck in our own spheres.. i am a poet- i use voice, i use words. that’s who i am. it’s scary and uncomfortable to own another role (in this case- installation artist), and we so often hesitate. paralyzed by judgment of self and imagined from others.. yet my longing to expand remained. poetry in three dimensions materialized while creating β€˜art for the wild’ with my brilliant sister april- found poetry, tearing up books, collaging with images onto wood, onto painted glass bottles, inspiration stones. THE WILD PAPERS in collaboration with some beautiful friends was my first site-specific experience in the theatrical/performative realm- i carry it with me everyday. but i have wanted to create a world of my own since before the conception of that show.. a space i could transform. fairy lights. jungle greenery. hideaways. wonderland.

the roots of this project are deep- but somehow deepest at the moments when i felt my own nearly ripped out from under me. the fact that i am here, in realtime- three days into the installation of that world i dreamed of, the world i laid the foundations of in one of the deepest darknesses i have ever experienced.. the vision is becoming real. the vision is challenging, humbling, emotional, electric, frustrating, EXCITING. BEAUTIFUL. WILD. but it is all mine. my ladder climbs. my sharpie words. my mirror shards. my relics. my tangles. what will you think when you see it? what will you feel? what will the reception be..?

for me, this is not just an installation. it’s the identity i swore i’d lost. the legend i swore i’d lost at the beginning of 2016. my heart, my memories, my story- in three dimensions. in a space. in a world. i feel like i’ve created neverland and now i can go home again.. yet it takes creating something OUTWARDLY to realize that it has always existed INWARDLY.. creation is an incredible thing.

over and over.. you recreate from the ashes. you honor where you’ve been. ’go slowly, see miracles’ is my chance to do that. to prove to myself that i can survive. that i have survived. and i can trust these hands, this head, this heart- to carry me into what will soon be my 30th year on earth.

i choose life. i choose immortality. i choose wildness. gratitude. grace. a prayer of thanks to THE WONDER and the beauty of losing and finding and losing and finding it again.

thank you for being a part of my story.. come see it in front of your eyes this friday, 6pm at the opening for the 43-01 21st st building, filled with incredible art of myriad mediums and 2 other immersive installations.

thank you// mama always. my family. amazing april. scott weiland. nahko bear. β€˜to the wonder.’ marcus & zuko. daddy. kristine. j. syd. sana. joan. nick. everyone who finds my writing in the street. the friends who looked for me. the words that saved me. riley, isabella, cristiano, layla. the woods. the ocean. pluf. chris mccandless. jen & TYR. my patron saint peter pan. my guardian angel nana. my TRIBE. LICAO. and the darkness that almost beat me.. for showing me how bright i can be.

[[SO MUCH MORE is going on in LICAO 2016, check out the booklet for all event & exhibition listings! festival runs may 18-22

scenes from the journey thus far…Β (click on the videos to play them!)

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reflections from tonight:

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{insert really loud peter pan crow here}

XO

a.

for the times it arrives like a thunderbolt.

polarbear

yes, there were many joyful things mixed with the blood. – clarice lispector.

sometimes all we can offer are the words. sometimes all we have are the words. and for that i am grateful. this came to me like a wild mother, like a hand of profound power and gentle grace. she is what is comforting me in this moment of uncertainty- all deep breaths and strangeness. belowΒ is only a portion of this piece- my hand wouldn’t stop moving. i know this will play a part in annunciation, my third offering to the world- this word that has been following me around in different forms, different adventures, different creatures- since the summer.Β a friend and fellow poetess told me that doing the polar bear plunge is “good for the guides.” i had no idea how right she was. the door to this opened when i tried to start writing about myself in a loving way.. no coincidence. this is as much for you as it is for me.

**

the eyes that have been wearing glasses since childhood but only so the heart can see clearer. in the mists of the night, the reflected deer soul crossing your path. i am going to make a work of striking, strange oneness. like reality percepted itself. HEART that loves to the point of ruin, stands in the fire city, recreates it from mud and ash again, not blinking. not asking for anything, but THIS, always this. earth city, mud city, the hand palms and feet soles that bless the wounds and suck the energy from sky, air, ground, trees, dirt- drink it desperately like GOOD MEDICINE- the only kind left- the body you once extricated, criticized, now crashed to wholeness by the perfect sea- i am salt and longing, fragmented light still twinkling with magic so ancient from before i was born this way- it constantly tells me i’m okay and some days i feel pure enough to believe it, my hand going to pins and needles as i write this, my body born again in the shock of aliveness, perfect frigid waters, crying and laughing, howling, this is how we were born- and some days i feel wild enough to believe it. near to the wild heart i am cleansed by my own blood spilled, i want to look at it in my hands, know i died for something- gasping, gaping, the way an open wound breathes open mouthed just before healing- twinkling, i had never felt my lungs before, i had never heard my heart before- I AM. like she before me and all the animals i am still a cave painting swirling wind, fur and belief- fossilized in crouched cocoon i can feel myself at the river’s edge- I COME FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE and that place has healed me. make enough space in between your bones and ache for the incantation to begin, this is how we turn salt to sinew, memory to surrender to what is greater, wordless- i am always edging the notion between words and sleep, stretching like fingers towards the whole damn world’s oblivion, even jesus the christ had to leave to come back, you always wander to return, RENEWED. bless this heart, these hands, these teeth that love too purely, salt in the fierceness, the wound, the truth, the library- all i can do is scribble at the doorways in my head, i will unlock them all with heart fire the way a blaze never asks permission, it just comes to return and then leaves as if it never left, this is eternity in the flesh- can you feel it? burning boats and bridges, sweet algae climbing on the sides of memory, grasping, drinking, gulping the marrow- i will stay close to the lupine heart, i will be rock and moss and teeth and shadow- i will be the sunburst on the water, i will sing with eyes electric, i will stand at helm of fearful generator but in GREATNESS- I AM.

XO

a.

are you ready, brothers & sisters?!

mashups

tis the season for thanks and i’m grateful for new opportunities to STRETCHHH those creative muscles, especially as the fall & winter set in. don’t let your heart go cold! the photo above is from the first ever MASHUPS performance (an interdisciplinary experiment of artists collaborating on the spot!) at queens council on the arts which was a night i will NEVER forget- MASSIVE love to my collaborators & the audience we vibed with <3

nature of the muse

TONIGHT! 11/12 7:30-9:30pm
NATURE OF THE MUSE reading & live writing show
by the FIRE in the carriage house at LIC Bar @ 45-58 vernon blvd in LIC
[facebook invite] *flyer by gianna ligammari!
feat: writers yi wu, tippy rex, sydney hartlove nichols, timothy bell & steven licardi with special musical guests janna pelle & luca difabio!
called ‘one of the most exciting literary events in the city’ by BORO mag, 5 writers will share their previously written work and then write LIVE from random prompts written by YOU, the audience! plus fantastic musical guests. ignite your MUSE with us!

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NEXT WEEK! 11/18 8:30-10:30pm
THE RISE OF NEON REBEL/ a gathering of creatives
Q.E.D. a place to show & tell @ 27-16 23rd ave in astoria
[facebook invite]
my BFF & fellow rebel artist nick neon is returning from korea after 7 years and we’re formally kicking off our NEON REBEL collective of wild hearts making their own luck, supporting each other, and changing the world with their work and art. BE A PART OF THIS!! we’ll be partying at Q.E.D., sharing, inspiring, discussing, presenting, plotting future projects, and enjoying special guest speakers: sam from good.clean.fun, kenny from road to greatness, valerie from naked in alaska & monica from museum of impact PLUS music from spells & curses and other shenanigans!

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if you are constantly dreaming of ‘somewhere else’ – FIND that somewhere else. i promise it’s out there. because when you take steps in the direction of those things or places that bring you joy, you realize it was never about locating that somewhere else on a map. it was about FINDING YOURSELF and thus unlocking one of the most precious gifts of all- being at home everywhere. with all people, all things. wandering, far and wide- it doesn’t matter. you realize you’re not running away from anything, like they said you were. you are endlessly seeking because you are seeking yourself endlessly and perfectly reflected in all things. yes, this is the journey that never stops. why should it? you find yourself- your true self- over and over again, in doing the things you really love. in daring yourself, shattering the ego, doing the work, taking the chances, pushing the edges. REALITY IS MALLEABLE, PEOPLE. and the more you purely push and investigate your mystery, the more you’ll see the rules bend until you forget what rules were in the first place…

‘ordinary life does not interest me’ ..

are you coming with? ;)

XO

a.

sea shanty

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things have been tumultuous.

today, on a whim, i got in a cab and told the driver: “anywhere in coney island.”

in my entire life, i don’t think i’ve ever been to the beach completely alone.

after having so much trouble writing.. relating. feeling. loving. believing.

in the sea, by the sea, as the sea- i was accepted, broken.

and in the space- i wrote.

i.
it is always as if- i am
seeing it for the first time.
i must believe as the first man did
god is in the ocean.
god is in the earth.
i no longer believe in one god.
i do not know of omniscience.
i only remember what healing is
when my feet touch scorching sand
particles glittering in a force
as wild
as i am.
nature is my only echo.
i am part and parcel.
crash of wave in my roiling heart.
murky depths.
unexplainable.
home to everything.
home to nothing.
home- forever changing.
i must have been a sailor.
because i can’t remember
what it’s like to not be in motion.
dwarfed and frightened and
awed by
majesty beyond your
mortal life.
when i arrive here:
I Arrive.
seagull shadow on
pen and paper.
leopard crabshell
discarded on the beach.
i want to walk
straight out into the
water
and never look back.
as hard as i try-
i cannot understand
anything else.
my heart on fire
has cooled
to floods, to this-
giving and taking
away, giving and
taking
away.
my mind which
never lets me
rest now
dissolving to
foam, bubble,
fragments. seabirds.
i know now
even the barnacles,
the ocean moss, the
crusted shells in
cluster-
have a place here.
i, too, would
latch on
and never leave.

ii.
i love
everything about
the ocean.
even, suddenly, things i couldn’t
bear to behold.
here there are no
notifications.
no guilt, no
smashed
hands or
phones.
you cannot force me
to feel.
i, who in these moments
have felt nothing,
now feel
all.
or at least-
the smallest glimmer
from a match-flick
of something.
an ocean whisper-
don’t leave us.
not yet.
we still have
things
to say.

iii.
if i could lead you
into a poem that is
my life
right now it would be
sounds and
only
darkness.
the slightest shrill of
wayfaring birds, the
slightest swing of
contained flame
in the distance
on the end of
an
outstretched arm,
the prow of a ship,
a billowing sail
saying only- i can
do this.
you must try
to move with me
in the dark.
walking will
do you no good here.
nor any knowledge
of four walls.
only sandy stretches
glittering like nebulas
a sky made of
bluing mussel shells
and fading
footprints.
there is no way
to make me see
otherwise-
the worldly things
besides
ankles tangled
with seaweed,
the crash of wave,
the
infinite
motion.
please do not
ask me to
stand still.
please do not beg me
to feel something
when i am curled
inside
these shadows.
only remind me
of the cycles.
the dusk and dawn
of the sea.
remind me that
these waters
in my heart
my head
this poem
are home for all
who have no
other place
to simply be.

iv.
i feel so infinite and
at peace.
like nothing exists
but this.
if i have to, everyday
or every other day or
every friday
i will return to
this ocean.
i feel as out of place
in the world as
a girl with fins
on land.
i am singing my own
sea shanty
in my heart
always.
i told him this morning
my heart feels like
a piece of driftwood
with the ocean crashing
against it.
and now here i am-
standing in the
water.
calmed by the sea
crashing into
me.

v.
this glittering sand
feels like
the most beautiful thing
i have ever seen.
it reminds me what i am a
part of and
what is a part
of me.

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thank you, coney island.

XO

a.