north task

Start with Spanish Moss, a generous clump.
This is your wand/feather fan. You’ll be glad to have it.

You know where to go. First and last step is listening.

As you enter, brush the foreheads of the moss-covered cousins as you pass them. Bow before entry, first at the door, then at what you know to be the sanctuary.

Bow to the stone people. There is a seat waiting for you. Take it.

Put the Spanish moss on top of your head. Not a peep from you.

You can’t still the voice in your head. It is making little assignments even now, or rehearsing speeches, or making up recipes, or witty poems—listen to everything but that.

Every cousin around you is calling its name in your ear. Every auntie is baking delights for you in the spent grass and rotting leaves beneath you.

Turn away from your own thinking. YOU have already thought 90% of this yesterday, and the day before. Turn, then, and let wind be your lover. Let it kiss every pore. Lean into the tree behind you—it knows all the secrets and then some.

Notice the mysteries of the scat by your foot. Shh. Quiet. There is something we have to tell you.

here’s the catch: this will save you, but only if you don’t expect it to. Sometimes a breath is just a breath. Sometimes it is as lonely as a siloh.