Revolutionaries. There will be no rigid revolutionaries. Only a slow and subtle returning at the pace of the ancients who walked barefooted and shore on mossy forest floors, on warm sand and in grasses so high they tickled their thighs. Who knew each green rooted thing was alive with medicine? Who trusted the sentience of four legged place plant rain who gave themselves to the moment so wholly they collapsed. Time and space fell gently into the arms of the great Mother