The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

The Ancestors, the Descendants, and the Stones September 4, 2018

The Stone Circle at Four Quarters

The Stone Circle at Four Quarters

What would our descendants say about this time period? How would we, as a people, be written into their histories? What stories would they tell of us? Perhaps our ancestors would say that this was a time of recklessness, willful ignorance, of extravagance, and of excess. They might mourn the loss of ecological diversity and habitat that we did not protect, they would lament the loss of cultures and languages, the loss of so many things. Perhaps our descendants would say that we pillaged the land and many of its inhabitants by not knowing how to curb our own greed; that we were victims to our own quest for abundance; and that we filled the air with carbon simply because we wanted to move faster.

 

Or, perhaps, our descendants will tell a different story. Yes, they would say, the larger culture and government leaders didn’t want to make change and thereby created a more difficult, less ecologically stable, world. But there were others, their ancestors, who thought differently.  Their ancestors saw with open eyes the destruction surrounding materialist patterns of life, and they worked to change them physically and spiritually. Their ancestors paved the way for a new paradigm of thought and action: one of balance, respect, and nurturing for the living earth and all her inhabitants. And the reason that the descendants are here to record this history was because of their ancestors’ bravery, determination, and commitment to the sacredness of the land and the interconnected web of all life.

 

The stones await their newest additions

The stones await their newest additions

It was with these thoughts of future generations, and what legacy that we might leave them, that I journeyed to Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary for my second year at Stones Rising. As I wrote last year, as we engaged in the physical activity of raising a very large standing stone to add to the growing stone circle, we created something powerful. Stones rising is not just about us in the present moment, but rather, about building something that will last generations and cultivating a community that allows that work to continue to happen. And so, as I arrived at Four Quarters for Stones Rising, I was on the land once again, I was with my tribe once again, and we had sacred work to do.

 

As we gathered at the top of the mountain in the quickening darkness in preparation for pulling our first stone, we sensed the heaviness of that moment. Our ancestors were watching. Our descendants were watching. In the deepening darkness, by torchlight, we strained at the ropes to guide this new stone carefully, perilously, towards its new home. The magic is in the pull–the quiet on the lines, the breath of anticipation, the stone crew guiding the process. Fire and earth are in perfect synthesis as we complete our journey to the stone circle with the first of our two stones. Our ritual that evening invited us directly to engage with the past and the future.  We call forth and talked with our ancestors in front of the western “father stone” in the circle.  They are proud of the legacy that we are now living.  We then called forth and talked with our future descendants, in the east, near the “mother stone.” We listen to their voices, spanning through the ages, thanking us and urging us to continue our work now, so that they may come into being.

 

The next day, we prepare for the long pull. It is aptly named–we are pulling the second stone, the one we will also be raising this year–and it is a 5 ton stone, two tons heavier than what we pulled the night before and we have to pull it a much longer way. We once again assemble at the top of the mountain; our stone is strapped to a simple wooden sled, ready to join its brothers and sisters in the circle. We take three breaths and pull.

 

We pull for the ancestors, whose DNA floats in our veins and whose song we can hear on the breath of the wind.

 

We pull for the descendants, those young people among us, those in the womb, those yet to be conceived.

 

We pull for the land, our battered and beaten land, who, despite humanity’s treatment of her, still has skies that fill us with air, whose soils still produce our food, and whose rivers and storms still quench our thirst.

 

We pull for our community, strained as though it may be, knowing that this work is good work, and necessary work.

 

The stone does not move.  We strain at our ropes. Living in this time sometimes feels like the first long and desperate tug on that rope–when you keep pulling and pulling and nothing happens. When your feet slide in the grass and sweat drips from your brow and nothing happens.  When you feel your muscles straining to the point of collapse, and nothing happens. When everyone around you is likewise straining, giving it their all, and nothing happens. And then, when you know you can’t pull for another second, the stone finally moves a few inches, and then it moves faster, and you know no matter how hard it is to pull or how much time it takes, you will get there.

 

Pulling the stone during the long pull

Pulling the stone during the long pull

Hours later, we arrive with our stone in the stone circle. We break, and have more ceremony, feasting, and song.  The next day, the entire tribe gathers, first to be fed the delicious rolls of bread baked all night by the corn mothers. With nourishment in our bellies, we go as a community into the stone circle, making our commitments to the work, the land, and each other. We hold space as a community, and participate as we are able, to raise the stone into its place in the circle.  People sing, the drummers offer a steady beat, the crones offer a cup of tea, and the most delicious pickles can be found at the snack table. We sit among our tribe, celebrating this moment. Ropes are brought out and we move the stone into position.

 

Everything happens very slowly, ever so slowly, as only a stone can move. The stone raises up, inch by inch, with careful guidance and steady hands. The stone is a lot like the cultural and ecological challenges before us–the stone can only move an inch at a time.  It is a very heavy stone. We can’t expect change all at once. We need to endure, we need to understand that we are beginning the work of generations, and it will take us and our descendants to fully realize the dream of centering us, as humans, back in line with the living earth.

 

The stone is seated into place; a cheer goes up among the community. Now, we celebrate. Now, we feast. Now, through ceremony and song, we welcome the new stone into its home in the east. The East. The direction of the descendants; the direction of spring; the direction of new beginnings and new hopes. There in the east, our descendants stand watching, holding their breath, and dreaming of a tomorrow not yet here.

 

Our newest eastern stone, raised!

Our newest eastern stone, arisen!

The challenges we face as a world are so severe. Sometimes, I can’t fall asleep at night, my spirit heavy with the burden of the now, and even heavier with the burden of the future. When I look at little children, I think to myself, how will this world be for them when they grow up? What can I do now to ensure that they thrive? What about their children’s children?  When we welcome that new stone in the east, I felt my heart lighten. We are in incredibly difficult times, where change seems impossible, but like the slow raising of the standing stone, we–as a an earth-centered spiritual tribe, as a people dedicated to the land–are building a better paradigm for ourselves, our community, and our descendants. Each stone we move is a legacy for those yet unborn and for the stories they will tell, for the histories they will write.

 

We are in the process of becoming ancestors. Whatever our larger culture may offer future generations, we can leave a legacy that offers the seeds of hope, of re-connection to the living earth, and of living in balance. And, we can leave them the stones.

 

A Druid’s Primer on Land Healing, Part IX: Healing Our Lands Physically, Energetically, and Spiritually May 29, 2016

Alternative Front Yard full of healing and habitat

Alternative Front Yard full of healing and habitat!

As I walk through my neighborhood in this quiet Pennsylvania town, I am struck by the contrast. On one hand, many of my neighbor’s lawns are monocropped with grass–one after another, green expanses stretch on and on. Dandelions are quickly sprayed, and uniformity reigns supreme. This is the language of “progress,” the look of industrialization, and the announcement of humanity’s dominance over nature. But yet, on many blocks, one or two households have embraced a different paradigm: kale and strawberries along the front green area between the street and the sidewalk growing for any who want to harvest, pumpkins climbing through hedges, a completely alternative lawn full of herbs that requires loving care, but certainly not mowing. A fully abundant 1/10th of an acre with fruit trees, raised beds, grape arbors, and beautiful carved wooden sculptures. This is a sign, to me, that change and hope are possible and that the language of healing, the language of regeneration, touches the hearts and souls of so many here.  Part of this is facilitated by community groups: this town has held an Herb Study Group for over 30 years as well as an avid group of gardeners, and alternative lawns and growing spaces are accepted here (although still not the norm by any means). The contrast between these two spaces, both energetically and physically, is quite impressive. And this isn’t the only kind of regenerated space you can find nearby: after the strip mines complete their work, they are now required by law to return the landscape. Usually, this means planting scrub pines and watching the goldenrod come back in with very limited biodiversity, but occasionally, you find a druid wandering among those places, spreading magic seed balls infused with the energy and light of healing or planting nuts in the bare soils–and the seeds of biodiversity that can help this land transform and regrow the many things that were lost.  Now, new ecosystems are being reborn in those places that were once stripped bear.

 

And, a place I’ll be visiting this summer to do some backpacking is the PA Wilds region, an area with almost 1.5 million acres of forests. These forests were once desolate, logged areas, with almost 100% of the forests being clear cut about a century ago, much of the logging to fuel industrialization and expansion. While these forests are still under threat from fracking and oil exploration (especially in the Allegheny National Forest), many of these lands are regenerated with abundance and life. Even wild elk roam once more!

 

Truly, as a land healer, being part of spaces that can be, or are being, actively regenerated–and healed– is my favorite kind of work. I say it’s my favorite work because the other work I’ve talked about, in the last four or so posts in this series, where you are witnessing, holding space, sending energy deep into the heart of the earth is all really hard–energetically hard, emotionally hard, and can be physically draining.  Its even hard to write about it, which is part of why this has taken me so long to finish what I thought was going to be a short series on the subject!  But the work of regeneration, of taking damaged lands and helping them heal–the work of this post: it is work that regenerates the spirit. It grows as you grow, it unfolds and you unfold with it is perfect harmony.  This work allows us to share our gifts of creativity, nurturing, healing, and joy and reconnect with the living earth around us.

 

Layers of regenerating forest!

Layers of regenerating forest!

I’ve really been talking about this subject of land healing seriously for over a year now from different angles, especially focused on the physical regeneration of the land through my posts on healing hands, on refugia gardens, on seed saving and spreading seed balls, on alternative front and back lawns, and even further back on homesteading and my own regeneration work in Michigan. As you can see, I’ve written a lot on this blog about physical work of land healing as spiritual work, and I want to talk today about the linkages between the physical and spiritual dimensions and the more energetic aspects of this work.  Because while the land always has the power to heal–energetic work on our lands can help it heal much, much, faster.  Consider this like a burst of healing energy to get the land abundantly growing again!  This is, for now at leats, the final post in my Druid’s Primer for Land Healing series, although I do have some more specialized topics planned in the future. You can read the full series of posts here: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, and Part VIII.  And once you’ve done that, come back, and we will talk about how to heal our lands!

 

Where Healing Can Happen

I want to return to my very first post in this series briefly, and remind you about the places and spaces that land healing–land regeneration–can happen. This direct healing work should be done not on sites that are actively being damaged outside of your control (repeated logging, strip mines, etc)–this is the work of palliative care, and I refer you to earlier posts in this series. Nor is it the work of a site that is going to be destroyed–this is yet another kind of spiritual and energetic work. Today’s work is for sites that have had damage (whether it is that the ecosystem has been removed because of construction, mining, or even replaced with a lawn) and is in a place that it can now heal again and is free from possible damage in the immediate future. This is really an important distinction to understand, because the wrong kind of energetic work can be damaging. Here’s what I mean: a lot of the techniques I will describe in this post are techniques of the energy of spring and that of fire–its about waking up, getting things flowing again, coaxing the spirits of the land out of deep slumber and hiding.  The last thing you want to do is do this work if the land will end up being destroyed so soon again. That’s like rousing a sick person out of bed, and moving, when all they really need to do is sleep through the worst of it.

 

Preparing for Healing Work and Building Relationships: Feeling Your Way Into the Work

If the land has been damaged for some time, the spirits of that land may have fled, gone deeply underground, or are otherwise closed off. I experienced this on my land in Michigan when I first arrived. I remember standing beneath the giant white pine tree, next to the second white pine stump that was it’s partner and had been cut off haphazardly by the previous owners. I sensed the spirits were there, but there was tremendous sorrow, anger, and resentment of all that had been done to the land. I began, before doing any healing work, with the work of apology and witnessing, acknowledging what had been done and showing that I was a different kind of person and was here to help. I don’t think, at first, I was accepted as someone who would heal. And so, I  my waited, knowing that things would unfold in their own time and in their own way.  The only thing I did during this time was clean up active piles of garbage (like a burn pile) and scattered debris, and then I enacted the first design principle of permaculture: observe and interact.

 

Time for some regeneration!

Time for some regeneration!  This is one site I’m working with at present.

Shortly after I moved in, a racoon that had distemper showed up in my yard in the early morning hours. The racoon was out in the day, and after I determined that he didn’t have rabies based on his symptoms, I sat at a distance, holding space with him, knowing that his time was near.  He passed a few hours later. I dug a deep hole, blessed it with flowers and sacred water, and had a small ceremony for him.  I covered him up and piled a cairn of rocks quite high, knowing that if his body was left out, the disease would spread.  Sure enough, over the next few days, a number of critters tried to get into that hole, but were unable to do so due to my careful burial. The distemper was stopped from infecting any other animals.  After the raccoon incident, the land opened up, and the actual healing work could begin.  I realized that the raccoon was a test, and apparently, I had passed.  It was at this point that the spirits of the land spoke to me, shared with me the healing work that was to be done, and I began in earnest.  I will also say that that wasn’t the only test, and they come at unexpected times!

 

A Patchwork of Approaches

No single person’s approach is the “right” approach to land healing work.  You may have a very different skillset or background than I do, so I would suggest that you take the approaches here and use the ones that work for you (and I am very interested in hearing approaches you have used–please share!)  I would also really strongly encourage you to bring others in for the healing work.  For example, my sister is a Reiki Master Teacher, and the way she moves energy is very different than the ways that I do as a Druid.  It was a welcome thing for her to come, after I purchased my land for example, and do her own kind of energetic healing.  Another friend was an incredible musician, and radiated his healing energy out to the land with a series of wonderful folk songs.  And so, you might think about the land healing work you do like a colorful patchwork quilt with different designs: many approaches can work, and the more, the merrier!  So with that, here are some that I have found particularly effective.

 

Physical-Energetic-Spirit Connections

The most important aspect of all of this work, whether you are doing music, reiki, ritual, or other sacred work that I describe below is that you understand the relationship between physical healing and energetic healing.  You might think about this in an analogy with human beings: we have a physical body, we have emotions/heart, and we have a soul. These are all interlinked, and yet, each needs a different kind of healing energy.

  • Our physical regeneration of the land, through tending the wild, scattering seeds, replanting and regrowing, is like the physical regeneration of our bodies.  This is building habitat, reintroducing species, creating spaces for life.
  • The energetic regeneration is a lot like helping heal a person’s emotional scars: this is a completely different kind of healing, done by different strategies or even a different kind of healer. This is rebuilding the human-nature connections that have been severed, reconneciton, rebuilding trust.
  • The healing of the soul–is like the deep spiritual work we do as humans. I tie this analogy to that of the spirits of the land, those non-corporeal beings that reside in our lands and make magic there. River spirits, tree spirits, larger guardian spirits, animal spirits, plant spirits–so many live in our lands.

It is on all three levels that we can work to provide the most benefit; but work on even one of these levels also benefits the other two in the long run.  And, so, today, we explore the healing work we can do on the energetic and spirit levels: that of ritual, sacred spaces, gaurdianship, and more.

 

A Full Season of Rituals: Infusing with the Blessing of the Sun

I’ve mentioned before the method of drawing energy down from the sun and infusing the land with light as a way to clear energetically bad places, and we are going to build upon that method (which I shared in my last post in this series, including a barebones structure of a ritual that you can use).  In the case of land healing when the land is ready for regeneration, I would suggest more than just a single ritual for this work; where in the case of palliative care, one ritual is all you need or want to do. In the case of land healing,  I would suggest either a full year of rituals (four, minimum, at the solstices and equinoxes) and, if possible, the setting of a standing stone to permanently channel that light down and within (I explained the standing stone technique more fully in my earlier post I linked above).

 

In the case of energetic land healing, I find that most of the work I do in this area is drawing energy towards the site and infusing it with healing light.  The ritual that I most often use for this is one from the AODA, our seasonal celebrations, which works directly with the three currents and which serves as a land healing and blessing, drawing down the light of the celestial heavens and the sun.  I’ve shared a barebones structure of it in my last post.  You can purchase the AODA Grove Handbook for a complete version of this ritual for a group (or if you are a member of the AODA, we will be releasing a New Member Guide soon that will include solo versions of the ritual).

 

The power of the sun!

The power of the sun!

You can use the structure I provided in my last post, with one major exception: you are doing a series of rituals instead of just one.  The first ritual you do should be the one I outlined in the last post–clearing away the energetic darkness. Think of this like the pain and suffering that need to be healed, and only once they are healed, then the light can come within the land. I kind of see this akin to a clay pot–when you start land healing work, the pot is often filled with negative energy, with darkness, and the first thing you have to do is clear out the stuff that’s already in the pot before you can fill it with something better.  So the first ritual does that.  You can use any other structure as well, with the intention of clearing the space first.

 

So a yearly ritual structure for intensively providing energetic healing support to the land might look like this (using the energies of the season for a guide).  I’d personally start this work if possible in the Winter Solstice, but starting the work anytime is also appropriate.

  1.  Winter Solstice and/or Spring Equinox: Clearing out the darkness and bringing in some light.
  2. Spring equinox and/or Summer Solstice: Infusing the land with light for a blessing.
  3. Summer Solstice and/or Fall Equinox: A second infusing of the land with light for a blessing; establishing guardianship (see below)
  4. Fall equinox and/or Winter Solstice: A third infusion of the land with light for a blessing; deep listening on the next steps to take.

If you are also setting a standing stone (or even building a stone carin), you can focus your ritual on the stone itself.

 

For the differences in these four kinds of rituals, visualization is effective: imagine the energy coming down from the star, through the sun, and down into the earth, filling the land with light.  Purging of darkness, and then, seeing the light infuse into the land, up into the roots, and so on.

 

Creating a Sacred Space

I have found that establishing a permanent sacred space on the land (even around the entire land that is undergoing healing, if appropriate) is very effective. I have written on this particular thing in a number of posts, so I refer you to my sacred space series of posts for more information on how to do this.  One key here is to listen carefully, and to build a sacred space that you can tend and visit often.  This might just be leaving a small offering, sitting quietly, observing, meditating–the important thing here is that a sacred space is created by the union of yourself and the land, and your presence is needed for it to continue to function.  In the case of my homestead in Michigan, I established the whole property as a sacred space, and worked it diligently in a number of ways.  And you should have seen how it grew!

 

Communing with Spirits

On the matter of healing the soul of the land, we must reach out to the spirits of the land if we are able. Some people have particular gifts in this area in terms of direct communication, while others’ gifts lead them in a different direction.  Divination tools can be useful here. I would say, if nothing else, leaving an offering for the spirits (possibly at a shrine you construct as part of the larger sacred space, above), acknowledge the spirits, and most importantly–welcome them back. Let them know that you are doing work here, that the land is no longer in danger, and that it is safe to return.  They will take their time, perhaps, in manifesting, but be patient. And look for signs of any kinds (see my Druid’s Tree Working posts for how to commune with them, the strategies are very much the same).

 

Re-establishing Eldership

The Ancient Maple - An Elder of the Land

The Ancient Maple – An Elder of the Land

One of the problems that happen, especially with forests and logging, but really with any site that has been destroyed, is that the land loses its elders.  You’ve probably met those elders areas in lands that are whole–the ancient wizened oak, the tall white pines, the ancient elk with a massive rack of horns.  These elders are those who have inhabited the land for many cycles of the sun and moon, and who hold presence and history in those spaces.  They are like a nexus of energy, with many linkages throughout the forest. They have tremendous energy surrounding them, a strong spirit, wisdom.  The English language fails me here, but I hope you understand. The problem that new lands face is that they have no elders, that presence may have been lost.  I have found that part of healing is helping to establish the patterns of eldership. You want to do this carefully and in full support of the land and her spirits, but here are some suggestions.  These suggestions really apply to the plant kingdom; I have less experience with animal eldership (but perhaps one of my readers does):

  • Stones, rivers, and other inorganic features have been around a very long time.  Some stones even hold the patterns of fossils of ancient trees.  They can temporarily hold this kind of energy until a living elder grows and is established over time. Living elders are important, however.
  • Bringing a piece of an elder from another place can sometimes work.  For example, First, find an elder in another place, and see if that elder will let you move a small piece of themselves (like a branch) and place it somewhere you are led to place it.
  • Finding the offspring of an elder who was cut (in the case of a tree, as these elders are often trees) and nurturing that new offspring can also be done.

 

Re-establishing Guardianship

The sacred compact between humans and the land, and the symbiotic relationship between them, is destroyed when the land is stripped bare or otherwise damaged. Re-establishing the human’s role as a guardian and tender of that land is important–and that is something that you can do if you feel led–but only if you feel led.  This involves a few steps.

  • First, feel this out out very carefully, making sure that this is something that the land wants and that you can do.  The land may want to be left alone to heal on its own for a time, and you don’t want to be there if you are unwelcome. It also needs to be something that you are making a long-term commitment to, so make sure you are stable enough, and rooted enough, for that kind of commitment.
  • Two, if it appears appropriate, making an oath to the land establishing guardianship (I will usually do this as part of a regular ritual at an appropriate day, such as at one of the solstices or equinoxes).  Make it clear what you are swearing to, and make sure whatever you swear to, you intend to uphold.
  • Three, regular visitation, vigilance, tending, and time spent–the work of the guardian.  This can be anything: from going to the land and visiting, being open and listening, to picking up trash, paying attention to the needs of the land, to protecting it from those who would seek to harm.
  • Regular work on the land should include gaining knowledge about the land: learning it’s history, learning the dominant species and how they interact, studying botany, learning the names and uses of the trees–enough to know if something is amiss.  Spend time on the land–overnight, in quietude, moving around–in all those ways.  Build sacred spaces.  Bring people there to help heal and grow. Think of this land like your focal point for much of what you do!

The role of guardian of the land is not one to take on lightly, but if you feel compelled to do so, it is a wonderful way of reestablishing those connections and helping the land heal.  It is really a lifetime commitment, and I only mention it here because it is so effective for land healing.

 

The Magic of Seeds

I’ll end my discussion today with two physical healing techniques that I’ve mentioned before: as I discussed in my series of posts on refugia and seed arc gardens over the winter months, land that is physically healing. When the land has been stripped bare, it needs the genetic material to regenerate.  This requires a knowledge of botany and ecology, but you can easily find lists of plants common to your bioregion, including those endangered. The same is true of endangered mammals, birds, amphibians, and bugs–and the kinds of ecosystems they need to be safe.  I very much believe in the work of scattering seeds, of tending the wild, and doing this intentionally as a land healer.

 

These days, I take my magic seed balls–of several varieties–with me everywhere.  The wet woodland blend includes seeds of ramps, stoneroot, blue cohosh, and mayflower.  The fields blend includes New England aster, milkweed, pluresy root, echinacea, and stinging nettle (all of these plants are on the United Plant Saver’s list, save stinging nettle and NE Aster; these two I added because we just need more of them around!)

 

A Permablitz

Finally, there is a tremendous amount of power in a group of people, a community, coming together to enact healing work. While this can be done doing ritual, like I described above, it can also be done through the physical work of healing the land.  In permaculture terms, we call this a permablitz, and it’s a way for people to come together and quickly replant, regrow, and tend the land.  I held a number of permablitzes at my own property and also helped many others in blitzes of their own.  The land appreciates this so much, as it provides a counter narrative to the many hands who had worked to destroy a place for their own gains.  These blitzes are generally focused on a restorative approach–perhaps earthworking (like swales) to hold water, almost always some planting or scattering seeds, and other kinds of work.  People want to feel like they are doing something, and blitzes are not only a great way to heal the land but also to help reconnect many with the living earth.

 

Tree in the fall months!

Tree in the fall months!

Concluding Thoughts (for now)!

This series has been going on for quite some months now–I must say, I was surprised by how much I had to say once I started writing.  It took a while to come forth, as some of the subjects were quite difficult to talk about, but I hope this material was useful.  I hope it is useful as you engage in your own land healing work, whether you’ve been doing land healing for a long time, or whether you are new to this process.  I think this the last post, for now, but I expect that this will be a topic I’ll continue to return to from time to time, as I learn new things and grow in new ways.  Thank you for staying with me throughout this journey, and I wish you the best in your own land healing endeavors!  I’d love to hear from you more about your own land healing work, and also, as you use these techniques covered in the nine posts, I would love to hear your thoughts, feedback, and experiences.  Blessings!

 

On Letting Go of Your Land and Leaving Your Homestead: Lamentations, Joys, and the Way Forward April 1, 2015

A scene from the land...

A scene from the land…

I’m in the midst of a major life transition. After six years of living in South-East Michigan (with five of those here on my homestead), I have made a big life decision to take a new job at a new university and return to my beloved mountains and forests in rural Western Pennsylvania. The pull to return to my homeland, to my family and beloved forests, has been growing stronger each year I’ve been gone, and was part of my decision to return. When I left Western PA at the age of 22 to go to graduate school, I had no idea if I’d ever return.  Now I’m 34, and 12 years have passed. In those 12 years, the landscape of my homeland has been desecrated with extensive amounts of fracking and logging, in addition to the mills and mines which were already so prevalent and destructive. I’ll be moving deep in the heart of fracking territory in Western PA. The fracked lands are my home lands, the soil where my ancestors lay, the trees that taught me this path, and I will not abandon them. My future work on every level: professional, homesteading/personal, spiritual, artistic, herbal, community building lay among these beautiful Appalachian mountains.  And so, I now face the difficult challenge of letting go of my land here in Michigan.

 

This post is part lament, part joyful, and part how to let go.  I’m sharing my process with you, dear readers, because you also at some point may have a decision to make, land to leave, a new path to follow.

 

On being one with the land.

The longer you are with a patch of  land–the more that you become reflections of each other. As I built sacred spaces, butterfly gardens, brought bees and chickens, established a huge garden, and began to do incredible amounts of reskilling, I was undergoing inner transformations and initiations at the same time. As I healed the land and transformed it, the land transformed me. I wrote about this blending of inner and outer work extensively two years ago–one thing it really taught me was that one can live in a sacred manner always, that each action and interaction can be sacred.  It taught me that we can set aside sacred time, build sacred space, and be one with our setting.

 

The same scene in the wintertime....

The same scene in the wintertime….

When you live on the land in the way that I have, there’s an exchange of energy that is difficult to put into words. When I started obtaining a yield from my land, eating what is grown on it, I began to take the land and its nutrients into myself.  My physical health and vitality improved as well. The land physically sustained me in the same way that the physical earth allows me to walk upon it. And I brought nutrients back to the land each season. When I made medicine from the land, the medicine healed me, becames part of me. When I toiled on the land, and I dripped sweat, the soft earth drank it up and my sweat become part of it. When I cried next to the pond upon making my decision to leave, my tears dripped into the water and became part of it. When I breathed out carbon dioxide, the plants breath it in and gave me life-giving oxygen. Every interaction, every action has a response, even if its not visible to the naked eye. The process of homesteading, of herbalism, of spiritual practices, of  inhabiting a landscape that you depend upon for survival ties you so innately and closely to the land that you feel like one entity. This is what I experienced in the five years on my beloved homestead. The question becomes–how can one possibly let go?

 

On the Power of Ritual in Decision Making

Imbolc Spiral

Imbolc Spiral this year on the pond.

What I have found through this process, and other vision quests and vigils that I have done as part of my spiritual path, is that decisions like this cannot be made in our “normal space” and time, where the demands of life press deeply and urgently upon us and cloud our inner vision. In “normal space” we are in a certain frame of mind, and that is often the mindset of immediate action and reaction rather than contemplation and mindfulness. In order to make such a monumental and life-changing decision, we must set aside sacred space, healing space, space to simply be, reflect, think, cry, feel, breathe….space that allows us to have a new perspective on the decision at hand. For those that study the tarot, the Hanged Man card (or in my tarot deck, the Inverted Tree) exemplifies this–hanging oneself upside down is a sure way to gain a new perspective.  And since ritual can provide us with that altered perspective through the use of ceremonial actions and intention, it served the purpose I needed it to–that of creating a space to ask the land about my decision.

 

Since Imbolc is the time of renewal and the first holiday of spring and occurred right at the time I needed to make the decision, I decided to use the ceremony to help me figure out the way forward. I walked the spiral that we had created as part of our ceremony out on the pond with some fellow druids, and thought much about the land, the beautiful land, woven into my soul. As I walked the winding spiral, I recounted about the gifts the land had given me, the tremendous gifts. As I lay in the middle, I opened myself to the land, asked its permission to go, let it feel deeply my feelings, know my thoughts. As I walked the slow walk out, I recognized the peace and blessing the land was sending me–and how the work is never done, and others will continue it here in Michigan, in their own way.

 

On Letting Go.

The one thing that has given me great peace through this process is this: I am leaving this land in such better condition than I found it. I am leaving it as a nurturing, healing, and bountiful place where many have come to seek rest, rejuvenation, and connection. Where the trees literally sing in the wind, where the stones hold the energies of the space, where the bees and butterflies thrive and grow. I’ve had multiple friends tell me that when they drive up my driveway, they didn’t feel like they were in Michigan anymore–they were somewhere else, somewhere sacred. I realize that this is such a gift, creating and honoring the land in a sacred way. When I arrived, as I detailed in this post, I found heaps of trash, pollution, and general disregard for all life on this property. But now, there are fruit trees, sanctuaries, abundance, fertility….and we’ve honored the land with ceremonies recognizing the passing of the wheel of the year.

 

I realize that this land has imprinted itself on me, that my very body has been nourished from its nutrients.  That even when I leave, I will leave a piece of myself always here in this land.  The land will remember me long after I am gone.  And I, too, will always remember this land–and it will still be here, long after I pass beyond the veil.  So I take comfort, in understanding while my years here were short, they were certainly meaningful.

 

I will miss this place so much!

My amazing garden….

And now, this beautiful homestead is ready for someone else to learn and grow–and they have a great start to doing so, since I’ve laid the foundation, preparing the rich soil, planting many trees, awakening it in a spiritual sense, and loving this land as best as I could. I am eagerly awaiting meeting the new caretakers of this land, whoever they may be, and sharing the secrets of the soil.

 

Realizing there is somewhere new, waiting

I know that out there, somewhere in Western PA, new land is waiting for me. I have been feeling its pull for several years, and now, it is pulling even more strongly by the day. Michigan is not my home–it is not where my ancestors are buried, it is not the land that birthed me, nor where I first heard the voices of the trees. I realize now that Michigan was meant to be a place where I would learn some of the deep mysteries of inhabiting the land, of being tied to the soil, and hearing its whispered secrets in the wind. It was meant to be a place where I had so much opportunity: to learn from some wonderful teachers and mentors in organic farming, natural building, herbalism, food preservation, permaculture design, and much more.

 

And the knowledge I have and the experiences I’ve gained are not common or much established where I am going…so I will have knowledge to share, knowledge that is wanted and needed. I’ve learned so much while being immersed in a great community here and living on my homestead. I’ve already been asked to share my knowledge of herbs and plants and have been told by many they are excited to have me come–and I expect so many opportunities will emerge in the coming years to share what Michigan has blessed me with.

 

Sacred Land, Unsacred Times

A friend who lives about 10 miles from here is also selling her property–she is getting older, and the property is getting too much for her husband and her to maintain.  Like me, she has worked spiritually with the land, hosted rituals, even built a kiva on her property for ceremony.  And so, like me, she has sacred, awakened land.  We had a long conversation about it–how does one sell sacred land?  How can one make sure the right people buy it, honor it, and love it?  This is the challenge we face–but there are many tools to make this happen.  My inner senses tell me that it will work out perfectly for both of our properties, but there is still the worry and concern.

 

How I will miss you, dear homestead!

How I will miss you, dear homestead!

The Way Forward…

Now that I’m leaving, I’m trying to spend as much time as I can out on the land, appreciating it, observing it, taking in these final memories before the property is sold and I am off on my next adventure. While I had felt, on some level, this transition coming for a number of years, I had no idea when it would actually arrive, and I realize that I’m working through some serious grief and feelings of loss.  As much as I have grief about moving, I’m also excited for the new opportunities this process brings–and the new experiences and energies that will be present. My home will be on the market and officially for sale in the next week, and I am already in the middle of making the transition to PA.

 

So, part of this journey and the upcoming focus of my blog will be my transition from a 3-acre homestead to renting again (and what sustainable and spiritual activities can be done in that situation) And part of the story will be finding that new land to call my own, and the story of my work on that land, deep within the heart of the Appalachian mountains.
And so I hope, dear readers, that these upcoming journeys are as rich as my last six years in Michigan have been. Thank you for walking by my side, for learning about this land…and for your companionship on the journey that still is to come.

 

The Wheel of the Year and Sustainable Action: The Spring Equinox March 19, 2015

I began this series of posts with examining sustainable actions for the winter solstice. Today’s post celebrates the current holiday–the spring equinox–and suggests activities for sustainable and spiritual actions that are appropriate for this delightful season. (I will note that these activities are appropriate for readers who reside in the Northern Hemisphere who are coming into the springtime–for those in the Southern Hemisphere, look forward to my Fall Equinox post later in the year!)

 

A few words about the spring equinox–the spring equinox is a time of balance, when day and night come in equal parts. The spring equinox is a great time to clear away the old habits and clutter that no longer serve us and that pull us back into unsustainable patterns and behaviors. The spring equinox is also a great time to start new activities, hobbies, actions, or even reorient our way of seeing. Given the energies of the Spring Equinox, I’ve compiled a list of things that you can do to help engage in more sustainable and earth-centered practices during this most sacred time!

 

On Personal Rituals

I like celebrating the eight-fold wheel of the year because it brings a sense of ritual and consistency into my life. I have crafted a series of “personal rituals” for each of these sacred days (like the inner spring cleansing, the first item below), and doing these with regularity each year gives me some balance and focus.  So you might also think about how your own personal ritual and spiritual work fits with the season at hand.

 

Beautiful spring violets!

Beautiful spring violets!

Spring Cleansing/Balancing (Inner). The spring equinox is a time when the darkness and light are in equal balance. And truly, this is a time of balance, a time of introspection when we can understand how to achieve inner balance in our lives. I think this is important because so many of us don’t take the time to do such balancing and cleansing work in this busy world, and an inner imbalance can lead us towards all sorts of outer imbalances and cause chaos and pain for us. How does one seek inner balance?

 

One suggestion is a practice I started few years ago on the spring solstice: I started with a list of all of the things that make me happy: writing, painting, being outside, being with family and friends, growing things, spiritual practices, sitting by the fire, spending time in the woods, teaching, mentoring my students, etc. And then I kept track of how much time I spend on everything for one week–its like a time diary. I kept track of it as precisely as I could (if anything took more than 5 minutes, I wrote it down). After one week, I evaluated how I did and how many minutes, of my 24 hours in each day, I spent doing things I really loved. I also meditated on the list, trying to work through my week, and worked to eliminate anything that wasn’t helping me. The following week, I tried to increase the time I spent on my favorite things by 5%; then I again evaluated my successes. Slowly, over time, I was able to clear extraneous things and time sinks (like Facebook!) and focus really on what made me happy. This led to inner balance and, honestly, a new way of seeing and living. To keep myself on the right track, I do this activity each year for at least a week as part of my spring equinox celebrations–to reinforce my goals and spiritual path.

 

Spring Cleaning (Outer Living Spaces). Now is also a great time for outer work–work that can help you live simply and more meaningfully. Part of the reason we have “spring cleanings” is that spring is really a great time for all kinds of cleansing work. The accumulation of excess stuff that we don’t need can energetically hold us back and keep us from moving forward. For example, I had a friend who had a serious accumulation of things–a lot of it was junk, but it had piled up in his living space to the point where he couldn’t walk or really do anything. He would spend many countless hours and days organizing his things, but the stuff always seemed to get the best of him because while he shuffled it around, he never actually got rid of anything, so the clutter and energy remained. Eventually, he was forced through external circumstances to do some serious spring cleaning–and energetically, his creativity started to flow again.I found this to be true with myself as well–after some life changes, I ended up unloading about 40% of my stuff–with each bag or box I donated, I felt lighter and happier. I’m in the process of unloading even more stuff to prepare for some more big life changes this summer. The more I donated and rehomed, the easier it was to let go of more. The clutter really does stagnate us energetically and harms our living spaces and inner work. Once we’ve done such an external spring cleansing, we can evaluate what is really needed for a happy and fulfilling life and only bring those things in that fulfill us, not bog us down.

 

Burdock rosettes of early spring

Burdock rosettes of early spring

Foraging for Spring Greens. Depending on where you live and the temperatures in the year, in the next few weeks, you can likely begin foraging for the first spring greens. In my neck of the woods, these are cattail shoots and poke shoots (both to eat like bamboo shoots), dandelion greens, nettles, burdock root, and a bit later in the season, ramps. For the poke, you can have them as long as there is no pink or red coming up the stalks.

 

Spring Tonic Greens and Tonic Teas. Unsurprisingly, once you are able to find those spring greens, they make a great spring tonic blend. The idea behind a tonic tea is that the winter would leave one rather malnourished–so the early spring greens and roots often helped to nourish and revitalize the body. This is not a “cleanse” in the popular sense of the word but more of a revitalization for long health. There are lots of ways to make a tonic blend using the early spring greens–you can make up a spring greens stir fry (with dandelion greens, nettle, and burdock root) or you can just make yourself up a dandelion root-nettle tea. Regardless, the early spring greens can be consumed early and often and will leave you feeling revitalized for the coming months!

 

Evaluating Spending and Reducing Excess. Part of the challenge for those of us living in western industrial civilization is that everything encourages us to spend, buy, and consume, very often when we don’t need it.  think there is often confusion over what is a need and what is simply a strong want. This is a good time to year to analyze spending habits and work to reduce excess (a great book for this is called Your Money or Your Life and it will help you break down your necessities and what you really need–a fascinating and highly recommended read).  Evaluating spending and reducing excess in our lives is well-suited to be combined with any external or internal spring cleaning we are ready to enact.

 

Sacred space

Sacred space

Planning a sacred space. Early spring is still a great time for thinking about creating outdoor spaces–either on your own land or in out of the way nooks and crannies in public lands. I have found that the longer I hold an intention of creating such spaces in my mind, the better such spaces become when I enact them in the world.  Meditation and visualization to plan the right kind of sacred space is useful as well. I have several posts on sacred spaces: developing sacred spaces, stacking stones, bee and butterfly gardens, stone circles and spirals, shrines and more.

 

Reskilling. While any time of year is a good time to reskill, the spring is fantastic because it is a time of new beginnings, a very good time to clear away the old and bring in the new. Reskiling, or the practice of learning skills that allow for more sustainable skills, can help us begin to make the transition to lower-fossil fuel and lower-impact living. I have a post on reskilling where I cover the basics of this practice.

 

Seed starting. At this point in the spring, if you haven’t already started your seeds or are considering a veggie garden, this is a great time to start those seeds!  A lot of farmers and gardeners in my zone (Zone 6) plant their gardens on the 31st of May, so this is the time to start the plants that have an eight-week indoor growing time–and that includes most of the nightshades, such as the tomatoes, eggplants and peppers. Some info on seeds and seed starting is found here and here!

 

Learning Homebrewing. There are a fantastic array of spring beverages that one can craft–elderflower wine, spruce tip ale,  ground ivy gruit, and my favorite, dandelion wine. If you want to learn about some of these unique brews, you can check out Stephen Harold Buhner’s book Sacred and Herbal Healing Beers: The Ancient Art of Fermentation. You won’t be disappointed!  There are also many recipes to be found freely online, such as at the winemaking site.

 

Amazing scenes from early spring!

Amazing scenes from early spring!

Early Spring Observations. I recommend that you take every opportunity to be outside, to live and breathe the spring air, to watch the ice melt, and generally experience the seasons.  The melting ice, the rise of the crocuses, the running of the sap, the unfurling of the leaves–there is just so much magic in the land this special time of year! Spending time walking outdoors, being still, and focusing your awareness on the landscape and the tiny details can reveal profound insights and draw you closer to the land. I think one of my very favorite moments of the year is when we have the big melt, and being outside as much as possible during those amazing days!

 

Reading and Study.  Like the Winter Solstice, for many of us, the spring equinox still has much snow on the ground and its an excellent time to read a few good books. I have a list of books recommended for homesteading here, and I also have listed some books for sustainability and druidry here.

 

May the blessings of this Alban Elier be upon you! /|\

 

Garden as Sacred Sanctuary May 7, 2013

The garden is a sacred sanctuary.  The calming nature of the plants; the patterns of light, water, and growth; and the tranquility the garden provides are unmatched.  This world we live in is so busy, so full of concrete and television and wars—the garden is the antithesis to all of that.  You can get lost among the plants, you can experience the magic of growth.

 

My friend’s sacred garden!

I remember several months last summer when my hens were still peeps.  I would go into the garden with them each day so that they had opportunity to peck and scratch and do their chicken thing (and it was amazing to see, since they were less than a week old and still acting like ‘chickens’)!  I would lay in my garden in between my rows of tomatoes and corn with a book and watch those chickens.  I had never experienced such tranquility and peace in my entire life.  Perhaps it was the secret teachings of the plants; perhaps it was the fact that I had tended them all from seed.  Perhaps it was, to use some terms from Greer’s Druid Magic Handbook,  the energetic currents—bringing in telluric currents from the earth, the chickens bringing in the solar currents of the sun, and me sitting in the middle of it all, embracing the lunar current. Whatever it was, I was completely at peace.  I’ve found that since then, I can enter nearly any garden and find that peace.

 

I have a friend who has a 1/4 acre garden that he’s been working on for a number of years now.  His garden is located in the middle of suburbia; houses are on all sides, peeking over his garden fence.  Driving on a very busy road in the suburbs of Detroit less than a mile off of a major expressway, you’d never know such a garden existed among all the houses and people. Yet, when you enter it, as I was privileged to do twice recently, you can sense its magic.  The garden is well loved, well tended, and the plants are just exuberant, bursting forth!  The plants are always growing.  And they teach us to grow, to heal. This garden feels literally no different than other sacred spaces I’ve entered.

 

This same friend took me to an indoor heated greenhouse at a local park about a month ago–this was when our cold spring was still occurring and the ground was still barren. I walked into this greenhouse, very much an artificial garden, and yet it still had its own magic.  This greenhouse was where each person has a small raised bed, and in each raised bed, and life was just abounding everywhere. It was a place of tranquility, but also of community, where the sacred growth of the plants met the need of individuals for belonging and companionship.

 

Tending the sacred garden!

Tending the sacred garden!

There is a lot of talk (including here on this blog) about gardens to help promote sustainability, transitioning to a post-industrial world, etc.  And yes, gardens certainly help us make these shifts! But gardens also have substantial spiritual value in and of themselves.  The lessons we learn from the plants—the importance of cycles in our own lives, the magic of the growth of a seed, that hard work yields a harvest, the importance of timing and patience, the understanding of building the right conditions for growth, the importance of balance, thinking in systems, and so forth, are lessons that we cannot learn elsewhere. This is part of the magic of the garden.

 

But its more than just the lessons that make a garden a magical, sacred sanctuary.  Its the inner peace and bliss that you can experience while inside.  Even if you aren’t able to have a garden of your own, go spend some hours in someone else’s garden.  Make sure you take the time, really take the time, to sit and just “be” in the garden (doing some planting or mulching or weeding would likely also be appreciated!)  Visit the garden to see what lessons it teaches you.  To seek peace among the plants, a bit of respite from our chaotic world.  To seek healing and promote growth.  This is the magic of the garden.