Song drew itself out of my lungs. The fog thick, but not heavy. Shrouded in cloud, the stone of this tower in El Yunque held, circled, and echoed this wordless worship. I believe the earth sings itself into healing. I believe our lost songs restored can bring about a renewal that we deeply need.

“The height of spirituality isn’t transcendence - escaping the wounds and decay for something more clean - but a holy-dirty-earthy deepening into the compost of all that has come before.”

-excerpt from our Clay Creatures newsletter on Hibernation and Torrential Dream States

The ever wise and tender Mary Oliver said that joy wasn’t meant to be a crumb, so we gathered up a caravan of neighbors and played for hours in this snow ocean yesterday ❄️