Every living thing carries an essence.

It seems almost coded into the wheel of karma that, for humans, that essence be muddied in some way.

Forcing us into the dance of falling away and returning.

Is mud necessary to forget?

Is forgetting what deepens intimacy?

Is intimacy the vehicle for innocent expression?

Vocation comes from the Latin word vocare, "to call."

It originally carried a strong religious sense: a calling from God to a particular kind of life or service.

If vocare mirrors the essence,

why shouldn’t it take us on a heart-wrenching, odd-defying saga?

When we greet and place flowers on the wider story—the smaller, excruciating one becomes more bearable. (Enjoyable, even.)

Boldly following a call.

Finding yourself caked in mud.

Fervently cleaning, driven by the hope of getting the previous essence back.

Only to find it's changed. And so have you.

Giving yourself to the creative act.

Perceiving it as less, you add more. Collapsing from the weight.

Unloading your pack, marveling at how you did it. And how simple it’s all become.

You want to reprimand yourself. It was right under my nose, all along!

Or was it?

Diving into a seemingly small idea.

The deeper you go, the shallower your breath becomes.

What am I trying to convey? Where is this going? What’s the point?

You need air. Archiving adds to suppression.

Releasing it to the world. Gasping for breath.

At the surface, revelations abound.

Each scene mirrors a sequence.

Covering; uncovering.

Emptiness; form.

Preparing; releasing.

Autumn 2026 in The Hive

ESSENCE — Piercing the Heart

Arrive with a vocare (vocation); a call.

An offerre (offer); something you’re bringing forward.

An opusculum (little work); a small piece.

To be walked through the three gates: de(con)struction; sitting in space; releasing the arrow.

Curated training grounds to greet the essence, and, mere scene in the saga.

INTRARE