Dialing a hotline is time travel. It’s a spell in mono. It’s a ritual in real time. 

• Set aside 15 unrushed minutes. Let the world know you’re unavailable to everything but wonder.
  
• Plug in your headphones like you’re tuning into a secret station broadcast by ferns and forgotten gods.
  
• Dial (833) ECO-POEM. This is the threshold.
  
• Listen with more than your ears. Let your skin, your feet, your spine tune in. Let the wind be your translator.
  
• Allow yourself be confounded. Let the unnameable rewild your nervous system
• Notice what stirs. Let what you hear awaken experimentation, collaboration, playfulness - not just with words, but with stones, trees, cloudscapes, sidewalk cracks.
  
• Take field notes: a phrase, a scent, a feeling in your ribcage.
  
• Make time for the eco-poetic embodiment practice. Even five minutes of stillness with a tree counts.
  
• Leave a message on the hotline voicemail, be it a whisper, a revelation, a weather report from your biome.
  
• Hang up.
• Dial again if the spirit moves you. The hotline is always there, like a stream under the city.
  
• Share with your kindred cabal of moss witches, anarcha-taoists, ecstatic walkers, and poem-dazed dirt worshippers.