beaver hunt

this past full moon was so intense for me.

it was fourish days of constant low-grade wolf feelings, interspersed with big spikes. the most intense was on the third day. i went for a run and spiked BIG. my hands were tight, clenched like claws and i couldn't unfurl them. i was curved in on myself, shoulders trying to drop me to all fours in the dirt. my muzzle was there, and my mouth hung open. my gums prickled with teeth, and my jaw cracked and every movement. my legs were like piano wire, their muscles twitching under my touch. it was real. it was really happening. i rounded the corner and looked up, not knowing what i was looking for, and there it was: the beaver moon, huge and yellow, hanging over the city. it slid out from behind a cloud just in time for me to catch it, then darted away again.

i made my way home in a haze; speech was difficult; forming thoughts beyond a sort of alert but relaxed fug of instinct was difficult. at home i flopped onto my bed in the dark and breathed. and i realised just how much i stand in my own way. i was fighting it, i realised, trying to force my way back to humanity. so i tried to let myself go, and i felt my feet, the soles splitting open. i tossed my head and felt the thick mane of fur along my neck and shoulders. i felt my skin ripple in a cutaneous trunci reflex. i took myself into the bathroom, and i looked into my eyes. i have avoided looking myself in the face during previous changes because i was afraid to be disappointed. but they were bright and wild and there was an expression there that i didn't recognise in myself but that relieved me.

i was a wolf for a while, and then when the wolf began to draw back, i showered because i had human obligations. the wolf receded, but never disappeared. for three days it stayed just under my skin, and despite the crash that followed, i feel like that was Something.

some kind of stepping stone. because ive been noticing how much i still try to squish the wolf feelings down, how much i ignore my body, and how much worse i inevitably feel when i squash it vs when i allow myself to feel my own body.

i wanna work on that. i wanna chase myself into a future where i feel what i need to, and meet my own desires.

in the shadow of the rain

 the wind was strong and biting cold. the redwood outside my window was roiling like water. rain had lashed the windows, and fell now in sheets. the wall was speckled with the shadow of the rain-painted window. my room was lit with a single candle, and the shapes it made were solid and dark, shadow puppets of my pitcher plants, the branches outside, the shapes of the room. it was quiet, just wind and water. 

i laid myself out, stretched and comfortable. i felt hind paws grow in twitching, like a dog half-asleep. my legs twisted and pulsed until canine. my hands were long-knuckled paws. i could feel the mane along my neck and shoulders. my mind was quiet, alert instinct. i was peaceful. i knew if i could see my eyes, they would be mine, and they would not be mine. i laid like that for a long time, listening to the storm, and feeling my wolf body. there were two shapes in me; my top half mostly human, my lower half all wolf. my tail was draped over my legs; i could feel it at my coccyx, and i could feel it against my legs.

like meditation, like pain, like a hard run, i was both beyond myself and wedged firmly in my own body. i was a wolf, and i was more at peace with the between-form feeling than i have ever been before.

the wolf has buzzed beneath my skin since then, and walking through the city at dusk, i felt my teeth. i felt aware of my body, of my surroundings, like the wolf was more keyed-into things than human me. i'm feeling a lot lately, rolling around in the mess of discomfort, and liking what rubs itself into my pelt.

how will i continue to transform? i'm ready to find out.