You found a scorched branch, smooth as bone.
Manzanita was watching.
She left you this dare in the shape of a spiral.

Today, break something.

Not in anger. In initiation.
Tear a page from a notebook. Crack a stick. Snap a dead twig.
Say: “I begin again.”

Now, walk to a place you don’t usually go.
At every corner, turn toward the more crooked path.
When you find a plant growing through concrete or out of stone, whisper:

“I am twisted, not lost. I return changed.”

Then collect three natural things with flaws—
a lichen-crusted rock, a leaf with a hole, a stick that isn’t straight.
Arrange them in a circle somewhere visible.
Let someone else wonder what it means.