Winter is the best season for self care and reconnecting with the gentle healing power of Nature. This winter season give yourself the gift of self care. Your body will thank you. #wildcraft #Wildcrafted #wildcrafting #wildbotanicals

Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it? Do I have a favorite place I’ve visited? Absolutely—though it isn’t just one place. My favorite places are *every* wildwood I’ve ever stepped foot in. It’s the forests—those feral, breathing cathedrals of green—that call to me. Even as a mature woman, something ancient stirs the moment I step beneath a dense canopy.

What is one thing you would change about yourself? If possible I'd change my dread of old age, but thankfully I do have a heroine from Norse Mythology that reminds me aging is a privilege denied to many... Meet Elli – The Old Woman Who Defeated Thor Elli isn’t a warrior, a goddess, or a giantess with a weapon. She is simply Old Age — and she’s the only being who ever made Thor, the strongest of the Norse Heros, fall to his knees.

December arrives like a soft-footed spirit, slipping between the thinning veils of late autumn and the hush of winter’s first breath. The world grows quiet at the edges. Trees stand bare yet dignified, their silhouettes sharp against a sky so clear and cold it startles you—the kind of night where your warm exhale becomes a ghost of frost, drifting upward to meet the stars.

*Me in a high school play* I always related to Peter Pan — that wild boy of the in-between, forever perched on the edge of growing up, laughing at the solemn rules of a world that forgot how to play. But over the years, I began to see through the shimmer of his youth and recognize a deeper current running beneath his mischief — an ancient echo, older than Neverland.

Do you need time? No. What we need is to be fully present... People spend lifetimes building prisons around illusions — defending the empty and dead spaces of their sleep walking through life, worshipping the glittering dust of distraction. They fight for versions of reality that do not feed the soul, mistaking the white noise of busy acquisition for meaning, and the futility of total control for purpose.

With each turning of the generations, something ancient within us stirs and remembers.We are not static creatures, but living stories — unfolding, healing, learning how to love more wholly than those before us. Our evolution is not measured in technology or conquest, but in compassion — in how gently we hold one another, in how consciously we tend to the world we’ve inherited.

What historical event fascinates you the most? Human dominance as a disruptive species since the last Ice Age. We humans are, above all, cultural beings. Though our existence is grounded in biology, what truly defines us is not instinct but *enculturation*—the learned ways of perceiving, speaking, and acting that shape our understanding of self and world. Our mother tongue, our daily habits, and the symbols through which we find meaning form our “being-in-the-world.”

Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live? November comes with her cloak of smoke and frost,breathing gold upon the dying leaves,a hush upon the fields where summer’s laughter sleeps.She knocks at my heart like an old friend returning—My birth month reminds me to mark my years circling the sun,as I open the door with paint-stained hands and spirit wide.

What does it mean to be a kid at heart? Once, I believed the moon could follow my car,its silver eye winking just for me—a guardian lantern through sleep-soft trees. Fireflies stitched the dusk with light,tiny lantern-keepers of forgotten dreams.Their glow was proof that even the darkhas a heartbeat. Thunder was a giant clapping his hands…

What's something you believe everyone should know. Long after the sun sinks, your spirit is already walking—barefoot and bright, whispering to the bones of the Earth,*I see you.*The mists that obscure part for those who remember how to listen. ᚠᛉᛇ The world keeps calling you back to sleep,but you have tasted the old wind of truth,

What have you been working on? 🌲Yesterday my dear friend Kathy Stevens and I had a wonderful day of visiting and shared many healing conversations that I'm inspired to share here of what it is I am currently working on. One of the best moments of the day was our stop at Pacific Trading Co. and our deep insights of self work shared with Danielle Lynn.

What’s something most people don’t know about you? What’s something most people don’t know about me?Most folks already know I’m a writer — I’ve got about a dozen books out in the world (which still feels wild to say out loud). But what many *don’t* know is that I’m also an artist. 🎨 I draw, paint, and sculpt — sometimes all at once, depending on how caffeinated or possessed by the muse I happen to be.

What have you been putting off doing? Why? I’ve been avoiding a conversation with someone I love, because it’s one of those deeply delicate exchanges where both hearts carry old wounds, both spirits are tender, and both minds move through the world with neurodivergent rhythms that don’t always bend easily toward the calm logic or self-sovereignty that existentialism asks of us.

This is a photo of me not giving a damn about your political opinion…. Because the real stuff — the things that actually matter — are out here.In the wind.In the silence of the valley.In the moments that remind you how small all the noise really is. We are on a rock flying through Infinity…there are bigger topics to be discussed.

What skill would you like to learn? Yes. Like barefoot-in-the-mud, sleep-under-the-stars, drink-from-the-river feral. Like full-blown, dirt-under-the-nails, rain-slick hair, howl-at-the-moon, “is-that-a-wolf-or-just-me?” level of feral. Why? Because clearly, returning to my natural roots as an actual Earth creature is the only form of sanity left in a civilization so allergic to reality it thinks "Nature" is an Instagrammable weekend concept, not the literal operating system that makes human life function.

If you had a million dollars to give away, who would you give it to? "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" That is what our nation was founded upon, so where did we go so terribly wrong?

What's something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail. I would want to know long-term success as a wildcrafter — crafting organic skincare from the plants, roots, and resins of the living earth. But success, to me, has never meant profit alone. It has always meant sustainability — making things that are affordable, ethical, and born from love of land and craft.

What do you love about where you live? I find myself revisiting my favorite placeIn the forest’s hollowwhere roots twist like old scarsand stone remembers the weight of centuries,light falters. There, upon the damp earth,lies a heart—stilled, abandoned of its pulse,a husk surrendered to the patience of rot. From the dimness she comes,

For some time now I've made it a habit not to write to much about my personal spiritual practices but I came across the below article and it talked about something I do that I truly thought I practiced alone: being a Nordic Kohenet… You see, many people assume Judaism can't be practiced along side mysticism or shamanism, or that "Heathenry" is nothing more than “the old religion of idols and sacrifices.” It might surprise many to learn that being earth based and mystically spiritual is what Renewal Judaism is based around, AND authentic Heathenry—particularly in its Norse and Scandinavian forms—is far richer than just folks LARPing as Vikings.

What is the most important thing to carry with you all the time? The story flows in a great circle—from the first breath of our ancestorsto the sigh of those yet unborn.It is not only our human kin who walk this path,but the furred, the feathered, the finned,and the unseen multitudeswho keep the world alive.

🌿 Saga of the Soul ᛃ ᛟ ᚠ ᛊ ᚱ ᚠ ᚨ ᛉ ᛋ ᛗ Once upon a time, there was no separation between humans and the Earth. We were kin. We spoke the languages of stones and seeds, wind and whale. But something fractured. Slowly, subtly, and then all at once—we forgot. The rise of machines, the hum of concrete cities, the glow of artificial lights outshone the stars.