BE BESTIAL: A Mantra for 2019

Call it a resolution, a Phrase of the Year, a slogan, a motto, a mantra. Whatever. This is my battle cry, my howl, my declaration of love for the final year of this tempest-tossed decade. This is my medicine, to be taken by myself and offered to anyone else who could use the same antidote to our zeitgeist of vapid soullessness and cynical waste.

"Nerdic" Fire Fest, 2017

I want to get back to nature--my nature, human nature--not in the sense of rejecting vaccines and worshiping crystals pillaged mercilessly from the habitats of endangered beings but in the sense of honoring the depths of every layer of my own mammalian brain and body and those of the people-beasts all around me. I want to get back to trustworthy instincts, back to passion, back to the visceral pleasures of real life.

This year, I'm gonna be a savage, because brutal times call for brutal humor. Ain't no shame in this filthy game. The appreciation of sick jokes is associated with higher levels of education, intelligence, and emotional stability and lower levels of aggression. If that's counter-intuitive to you, maybe you've been paying too much attention to bloodless think pieces and pop morality propaganda instead of your own fellow human-beasts and the workings of your own profanely sacred mind.

Wetware doesn't behave like hardware. We aren't robots, programs, or AI networks. You and me, baby, ain't nothing but mammals.

So, if the word "bestial" is speaking to you right now like it is to me, unplug all of your interwebs machines. (After you finish reading this, of course.) Put on a heap of very old furs (your grandma's closet or nearest thrift store are full of them) and seize the friluftsliv by its neckbones.

Cuddle a kitten.

Scream a song of kittens and mosh to it. Preferably at a live show.

At least put some old-school metal on your Bluetooth speaker and thrash outside in your Wilder Mann suit.

In a world of Calvins, be a Hobbes.

Cancel your boring gym membership and chop wood like a raging Yeti.

Play with fire.

Bite a baby. (The more you want to, the more you love that baby. Science.)

Especially one that bit you first.

Hibernate like a bear, or nap like a cat. Catch up on all your sleeps and snuggles.

Eat wild meats and fruits and nuts and everything that makes your body strong.

my husband with a deer leg he aged in a snowbank by the driveway


Be a Wolf Mother.

Be what you are, down in the marrow of your bones, in the places that never show in your Instagram photos, where corrupt politics and predatory religion and maladaptive tribalism cannot sink their teeth into you, and thrive.



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