Raspberry Moon — Waxing Gibbous Update

We are well into Raspberry Moon and the berries are in abundance. Yet we could also call this Busy Waters Moon, as it’s peak fishing time and the fish are biting. Here is a meaningful opportunity for the adult Seekers to make the connection between hunger and the hunt—to give up the protein and fruit the school provides for them and rely solely on their own efforts. They are already gathering all of their greens, so these would be their second and third steps toward Earth sufficiency.  It is always up to the Seekers to decide what their work will be, and letting go of that like-clockwork food drop has been difficult.

For almost a moon, inertia set in at camp around catching enough fish to live on, so they couldn’t take advantage of the opportunity. Many wanted to go for it, yet others did not.  Several of the Seekers proved to the circle that it was possible for fish to meet their protein needs, but still the whole circle could not come to agreement. Those who wanted to experience the hunger of the hunt felt victimized—stifled in their efforts to live in connection with the means and ends of their existence. Others felt pressured to do what they weren’t yet ready to do.  Reactivity and inertia became entrenched: they could no longer see all of their options and feel empowered.

Similar conflict arose around food that was going missing. A few of the children had developed a habit of stealing fruit, and no one was speaking up about it. A couple of parents wanted to protect their children by working with them privately or waiting to see where the issue went. Everyone agreed that punishment was not an option. Some felt that natural consequences should result from their behavior—but what consequences? Again, the circle was at a standstill.

Inertia had also set in across the lake. The Rainbows had spent nearly two moons away from the clan, and they were slowly getting closer to approaching their situation in a different light. One of the mothers put it like this: “I can be content and happy anywhere I am. Sometimes I don’t have a choice about who I’m with and what issues come up, and I need to realize that it doesn’t matter where I am.”

It took several quarter moons and a lot of contemplation and Truthspeaking for this circle to move through these issues together. Just a few suns ago, the Rainbows decided to move back to Waabanong and continue their efforts toward clan living. A quarter moon ago, 19 adults have decided to give up fruit and gather berries instead; and 18 have given up their share of the protein that the school provides. They are relying solely on the circle’s fishing, frogging, and insect-gathering efforts. The children continue to receive full food drops.

The issues that have come up for a circle are not anomalies—-they are a natural part of the wilderness immersion process. Each year, Seekers face similar thresholds and break through them—we all do when facing new experiences. There are four typical thresholds: the first three are personal, having to do with what we bring into the wilderness with us, and the last is cultural. The first one is missing the distractions from our psychological issues, and it typically looms within the first few suns. If we get through that, physical comfort threshold awaits, usually at around a quarter moon. Assuming we make it through that one by coming to peace with our demons and finding adequate shelter and comfort, the third threshold will loom at around the end of the first moon. It’s about balance: knowing that the sun will shine again even if it’s raining, and that it’s possible to stay warm even if the fire won’t start, and that the fish will bite again even if they aren’t today. There are ups-and-down cycles in nature, and when we can not only accept that but immerse ourselves in the cycles, we’ll find that we can be as comfortable in the wilderness as any place else.

The fourth threshold, however—the one many of them are now experiencing—is about other people. As social beings, we rely on our network of relationships for growth, as well as a sense of purpose and belonging.  We come from a culture of “I, me, mine,” and it takes about three moons in the wilderness to recognize this kind of existence as a sham. We defined ourselves by our egos and didn’t have to think about our clan in relation to our own survival. In the wilderness, it’s an undeniable truth. Getting through ego centeredness and recognizing our interdependence, our oneness with everyone around us, is the final threshold—the one we walk through continuously as we grow in circle consciousness.

While the Seekers have been wrestling with some of these issues, they have also begun hide tanning. They have been given the overview of the Ojibwe method of hide tanning, and they are gathering materials for scrapers, beaming logs, stretching racks, and paddles. Hide tanning is another opportunity for Seekers to complete a circle of connection in their life on this particular land, as they harvest skins from the animals that live here and transform them into soft, durable clothing with their own hands.


Part of the sustenance the Seekers have been gathering and growing into is found in each other. This is part of the transition through the fourth threshold. Women have been gathering regularly for women’s circles at the moonlodge, and they have been supporting each other to take solo time at the lodge. We’ll close this update with a small sharing from Dakota, who wrote it while during one of her times alone in the moonlodge. In many ways, entering and walking through thresholds is very much a little death for parts of us that hold on to beliefs about who we are. Insights like hers can be very valuable for a circle at times like these.

From a moontime vision quest halfway through Fiddlehead Moon:

There is a moon lodge here where women may stay during their moontimes if they wish. The tradition of separating women at this time is one that is generally misunderstood and often feared in the modern world. I, in my ignorance, considered it some patriarchal, fear-based rite probably instituted somehow by religious colonialists.

In my first moontime here I felt called to fast (food and water) for 4 suns at the moonlodge. It became immediately apparent how confused I had been. The bleeding time for a woman can be filled with powerful spiritual connection and insight—if space is allowed for it.

 For a woman the moontime is the dying time—

The giving time

Of giving up the possibility of a child

Often coming at the dead moon

That is why we hold such power

In our moontime

We are the keepers of

This cyclical rhythm

Embracing this balance of life and death

Within our bodies

Our culture sees living and dying

            as opposites

They are not opposed

One cannot exist without the other

They are two sides of the same coin

            and that coin is change

Life is the receiving

            death is the giving

Life is the inbreath

            death is the outbreath

We die every moment that we live

            and we live through our ‘death’

Enlightenment comes through awareness of this.

Not Doing

Following is a new post from the Blueberry Moon by Rose, a seeker at Waabanong. A few more stories from this moon are at her website, metraylor.com.


“How can my suns be so full of meaning, and yet I feel so purposeless?” I asked Chris as we watched children cavorting in the water, bathed in the intense golden light before evening. I didn’t expect an answer. It was the question I’d been asking myself the past few suns as in the still spaces –between gathering firewood, milkweed, boughs, playing with children, cooking, getting to know the people around me– I would suddenly wonder, But what does it all mean?

Squinting at me against the glare cutting across the tree line on the western shore of the lake, Chris listened to me seriously through the splashing and screams of laughter. With his wavy, graying hair down, the shape of his beard and the fine, aristocratic features of his face have always led me to imagine him serving some Spanish court. Or as a big cat, calmly watching, relaxed and always a predator.

Later in our conversation he told me, “Energy conservation. That’s really important for you. Every time you ask yourself, ‘Okay, what do I do next,’ don’t. The Toltecs called it literally ‘not-doing.’ It’s important that we stay engaged, and it’s also important that we have those spaces of rest to rejuvinate ourselves so we can give to our circle.”

The moon has died and her belly swelled with life again, and after three suns of closely packed meetings and relaxing in between, I’m ready to do. The sun is setting, yet I feel like I’ve done so little, I think, I still haven’t gotten my fishing gear together, or I could work on my tomahawk handle… or I could watch the sunset.

Meeting Joanna, our resident master of hook and line, I get a kit together under her supervision. The colors in the sky have faded and I wonder if there will be anything left to see as I pad down the trail to the swim area through a tunnel of fragrant zhingob saplings.

Settling down on the rock-shored beach, I prop my feet on the wave-worn log. My few framed by the sweeping branches of cedar and pine, I wonder how I could have possibly thought that these faded colors would somehow be less than their earlier glory.

Silhouetted conifer spires line the western sky along the shore of the lake, tipped with a warm rose that fades to beige. I’ve never thought of beige as a sensual color, the shade of prefab middle class housing developments and the pants of young urban professionals. But here, a swathe of color that fades to a shade I can only describe as dust, then to a powdery blue, all mirrored in the rippled canvas of the lake, it has a delicious richness I’ve never seen before.

I notice the globes of sturdy needles of the red pine bowing over the water, each spine etched against the sky. A fat-bellied spider wends her way from one puff to the next, as if walking on air. I feel myself drawn into the flow of photosynthesis, imagining for the first time in conscious memory drinking in the sunlight from such a narrow, tough surface, feeling the bloodstream of the tree flushing from needle to trunk, then breathing out again, releasing oxygen, which I drink into my lungs.


The following is a post from Rose, a Seeker staying at Waabanong. She has a few more stories at her own website, metraylor.com.

“Okay, Andre. Ant traps. Let’s do it.”

We’ve been talking about it for suns, each trip delayed by another soggy thunderstorm. Jason tags along, and I watch his nutshell of a canoe skim the waves, prow a fingerlength above the water as Andre and I steadily paddle across the lake.

“Blueberries!” Jason exclaims as we haul the canoes up the steep bank of the landing on the northwestern corner of the lake. “Dey are ready!”

“They look like they could ripen a little more to me,” I tell them, wincing as I imagine all the bushes stripped while the berries are still green. A few are blushing a tempting purple, but nowhere near their final dreamlike blue. I’m feeling anxious to get the kids moving; taking children along on my foraging trips tends to cut them short, and I have yet to give myself graciously to the inevitability.

“Nooo, dey are ready. Dey are blue!

“You’re bonkers,” Andre informs me, elbow deep with Jason in blueberry bushes. I manage to coax them up the hill, over a valley in the sweet forest and through a waist high meadow of feathery bracken fern and stocky milkweed to the first trap. Lifting the layers of bark stacked on the anthill one by one, I’m not sure what to expect. But nestled under the last layer we find a pile of creamy capsules, rapidly swarmed by their guardian sisters who clutch them in their mandibles and scurry down tunnels.

“Get ’em, get ’em!” Andre says, reaching into the pile.

“Let me try one!” Jason says. “Ow! Ow! Shit! Ohmygott! Ow!”

I could never have imagined myself sticking my bare hand into a swarming nest of red ants, but there I am, stuffing my mouth with fistfuls of ants, larvae, and debris. This particular variety of ants is sharply lemony, the rich, juicy larvae popping between my teeth, the satisfaction dimmed by the grit. The air is perfumed with vinegar so thickly it almost burns my eyes as the ants spray their alarm signal.

Stirring up the nest again and replacing the stack of bark, we climb the bank to an overgrown logging road strewn with ant empires, the flight of tiny grasshoppers heralding our coming.

“Did you set up this one?” Andry asks, pointing to a nest with more square footage than my tent, a mountain of sawdust under a fallen red pine riddled with a labyrinth of industrious galleries. “Fridolin and I got so much here. Like, hundreds.”

Scraping away the surface layer of the hill, we hit gold.

“Does anyone have a bandana?” Andre says in his frantic mumble, looking around wildly. “Get a bandana, get a bandana!” I have a bandana and I’m not sure what he wants to do with it as I belatedly fumble it from my belt. “Put the eggs on there!” He keeps calling them eggs and as I follow his urgent direction I keep wanting to tell him they’re not eggs, they’re larvae.

Jason stomps away, arms flailing. “AHHHHH! Dey are in my pants!” I can feel a few scurrying through my leg hair, unaware that they are scaling their predator.

We bundle up the bandana, more than a fist sized ball, briskly brushing ourselves free of incensed, battle-ready ants.

The last trap is in a little meadow thick with milkweed and raspberry. As we push through the thicket between the meadow and the trail, Jason drops into a crouch and disappears.

“Strawberries!” he exclaims. “Dey’re not done!” Andre disappears next, and I hear them crawling through the brambles.

“Remember the Rule of Three, guys. If we see three of a plant, we take one. Same for berries. That way the rest can go to seed and we’ll have more berries next Turn.”

A pause.

Andre: “What?” He says it as if it is the most bizarre and unbelievable thing he has ever heard in his dozen Turns of life.

Jason has not nearly the passion for ant larvae that he does for fruit and keeps busily harvesting, but Andre loves them enough to pull himself away from the call of the strawberries. This trap yields only a palmful of larvae that I offer to an enthused Andre, who starts eagerly popping them into his mouth.

“Okay, guys, that’s the last one. Let’s head back ho–”

“More strawberries!”

“I want to eat these eggs,” Andre says.

“Can we go sit in the shade, then?” I ask, resigned. I’m tired, and I can feel the heat pounding my head. We find a shady spot to lounge while Andre tries to winnow his larvae from the debris with a thin stream of breath. Jason, who I can’t ever remember touching me, settles into my body like a couch, giggling. I smile, wrapping an arm around him, using the other hand to snatch at a deerfly. Andre resorts to picking out larvae one by one, and Jason lays across my middle, scouring those five square feet for every strawberry.

By the time we reach the canoe landing, the stiff wind that feels so refreshing on my skin has turned the lake into a gauntlet of waves. Andre and I can barely make it away from the shore in our two person canoe, and Jason is rapidly being blown into a cove. We manage to drag our canoes together by hauling ourselves along a fallen tree, and Jason and I lash his canoe to ours with a shoelace to tow him back.

“Heave!” I shout, as if we are pirates on a galley behind our oars, and Jason laughs over the wind behind us. “Heave!” Each stroke feels like I’m paddling something the consistency of pudding.

“We can’t get stuck in his cove,” Andre shouts over his shoulder. “My mom and Gio got stuck there when it was really windy and they couldn’t get out. They had to portage.”

“Keep paddling!”

We inch our way across the lake, and as we wind our way to the water of the swim area, I see Chris and Kerstin talking. Then I watch them watch us, bemused, as we literally get blown backwards.

“Heave! Heave!”

Blueberry Moon Update from the Seekers

This quarter moon (the first of the Raspberry Moon) we have updates from the Seekers again! The following is a post from Dakota, and we will be updating tomorrow with stories from Rose.

Four suns before the dead moon and First sun of Raspberry Moon:

Aaniin family and friends:

I awoke before first light this morning (actually, I was awake many times in the night as the porcupine was chewing, chewing, chewing the log next to us again)  to walk the two mealtimes into the support center to send out this promised report:

The suns go flying by and we have now lived 1/4 of this amazing experience.  I call them Arriving Moon, Fiddlehead Moon, and Blueberry Moon.  (This sun is the first of Raspberry Moon and we are overwhelmed with them.)  Really, they could all be called Arriving Moon, as we are perpetually arriving at new awareness and our place in this unfolding.

The last two winters I have re-calibrated my mental state by living in the yurt without electricity – finding the natural rhythms of light, dark, weather, temperature, seasonal changes, and moon cycles.  The mental readjustment is now stepped up to a moment-by-moment experience.  It never stops, and is shared by all our clan.  It includes the previous changes (multiplied many fold) and adds more:  mindful relationship with all our circle – plant, animal, mineral, elemental, spiritual, time, space, each other all-one.  Never in this life have I experienced living so completely.  We are 23 adults fully committed to opening to Truth and diving deep; learning and embracing who we are, recognizing our place in circle consciousness, communicating truthfully/mindfully/effectively, learning the skills to interact in a clean, healthy, respectful way with our world,creating intentional culture and passing on the best of what we are gaining to our co-parented next generation.

This is, of course, not to say that there haven’t been stumbling blocks.  Rome wasn’t built in a sun and we surely won’t be able to tear it down in 3 moons.  Yet, it is the common willingness that so astounds me.  Letting go of the ego-based habit that we all come from is no small task.

So, my car sits empty except for a few probable mice chewing at the wires.  The life I have built in CA is left more or less on hold (though Pixy is frolicking along with the clan-building, goat walking, west coast version of this life).  I look forward to the Fall here with less mosquitos, humidity and mental/physical clamor.  I am told that the white season is “when the magic happens.”

Our daily life at Waabanong (Camp in the East) is full:  workshops (Truthspeaking – a combination of mindfulness, non- violent communication, deep listening, vipassana;  Empowered Child – how to apply truthspeaking to our parenting repertoire;  Fire skills;  Plant walks; Canoeing;  Hide Tanning;  Wilderness 1st aid/Safety;  Bow Drill Fire Making;  Lostproofing;  etc.), cooking (with an effort to reduce our dependence on pots and matches), exploring, foraging, woodworking (bowls, pack frames, tools, musical instruments), canoeing, fishing, frogging etc.  Really, we can pretty much follow our flow and do what we want with our time.  Few get a chance to experience this freedom in today’s world … such a sweet gift!

Our food here is exciting and delicious.  Certainly, my definition of exciting and delicious has been molded and altered by this experience.  Really, the food we eat from day to day doesn’t vary much unless we are delivered some exotic roadkill.  However, what it might lack in variety, it by far makes up in flavor, balance, nutrition, and wild exuberance. Someone fishing around in their soup bowl might find a hoof, an aorta, an anus.  I personally have added slugs, worms, toads, frogs, entire fish (heads, tails, bones, guts), all deer organ meats, brains, eyes, tongues, and even fetal beaver head to my culinary repertoire.  There are no processed/’treat’ foods.  Ever.

So far we are still living in our tents.  The three summer lodges (wigwams built by former seekers) stand empty awaiting our worthiness.  I think we will begin lodge building soon which will make us worthy.

The women’s circle here meets often and powerfully (the men also circle).  We have engaging exploration in and between these groups.  There is also a moon lodge (hut) where the women have the option to stay in their moon times.  The experience is affecting our moon times and I have only bled once since being here.  At that time I did a 4 sun food & water fast/vision quest that brought me much vision.  I am learning a lot about the power and opportunity of this bleeding time, that has been completely lost to most of our culture.

Eric is here now (going back and forth from work-exchange at the support center and visiting us at Waabanong) for a moon or so.  I am hoping to take the chance before he leaves for a seven sun walkabout by myself.  It has been wonderful to have Eric’s presence, and he is well liked by the clan.  As I had hoped, our relationship has been nurtured, guided and well supported within this process-fest.

I have thoughts of trying to write an article for National Geographic Magazine about this experience of creating culture.  If any of you have knowledge or suggestions about writing such a thing, I would be glad to hear.

Many thanks (Miigwech!) to all of you who are caring for our animals, and to all who have made efforts to communicate with us.  Thank you g’ma PatPat and g’pa Michael for your contribution toward our cold season gear and this experience as a whole.

We LOVE getting letters, and visitors.  If you are thinking of visiting, please schedule ahead of time with the school:  715-546-2944  or email the school.  If you want to write us the address is:  7124 Military Rd.  Three Lakes, WI  54562-9333.  Please don’t send packages (anything with more than paper in it).  The school won’t deliver them.

Here’s from the boys:

Zander:  I miss you all.  It’s a nice place here and I have a lot of fun.  It’s super nice picking berries and wild greens on the opposite side of the lake.  Love, Zander

Canto:  I’m having a good time with friends and making new friends.  We can go canoeing whenever we want and there are many porcupines.  I saw a beaver. I hope to see you some time after the year-long.  Love, Canto

Ishi (Izaiah):  I am learning lots of things here.  It is a fun place swimming on hot suns.  It is fun cooking here.  I miss my dog Kalik a whole lot.  In the beginning it’s hard here, and then it gets easier as I stay longer. I see lots of animals.

Teaching drum folks:  You have my infinite gratitude for all your wisdom and selfless service.

I love you all and appreciate your place in this life.

Niinzaagi’iwewen – we are in the state of being beloved (Ojibwa blessing)




Blueberry Moon – Waning Crescent Update

It is the height of the Green Season and the Seekers are beginning to gather blueberries and raspberries, the first of our many native fruits to ripen. Along with gathering all of their greens and some fruit, several Seekers are getting good at fishing. One caught 40 fish before breakfast, which provided her clanmates with a tasty meal that day. Ant hunting is also going well, particularly with Rose, who has a trapline that includes a number of anthills. She comes back to camp with quite the quantity of sweet-tasting larvae. They’re high in fat and very nourishing. In our Insect Workshop, the Seekers learned that ants like to bring their larvae up near the surface to gather warmth. All that’s needed to gather them is to lay a thin piece of bark on top of an anthill, and the ants will bring their larvae up under it. Then come by every few suns, lift the bark, and scoop up the larvae.

Cedar and Wolfgang pose as trees in our Lostproofing workshop.

We hope all of you had a good time reading Alex’s story of getting back to Nishnajida from his Dead Moon Visit. He ended up walking an extra five miles that day, and made it back to camp just before dark. Several other people have gotten lost while out gathering and exploring, but none as long as Alex. Their stories kicked off the Lostproofing Workshop, giving us some real-life examples to work with. Everyone’s attention was riveted, as there is not a person who doesn’t have some fear of getting lost. We shared methods of direction finding without map and compass, and which did not rely on the sun—which is actually not very reliable if clouds move in.

Lost Proofing Workshop

Seekers pose as trees to aid in our Lostproofing Workshop.

They learn how trees, streams, hillsides, ground vegetation, wind direction, and several other natural features tell direction. Equally as important, they learned how to stay calm centered, and aware when you are lost, and to trust in with the Earth, rather than what your head, is telling you.



Meetings happen regularly at camp–it’s important to make sure communication skills are a focus.

We also had two workshop on Truthspeaking. Talking circles and meetings have been happening regularly at camp, focusing mainly on parenting styles and food/foraging topics. Many were concerned about these meetings often dragging out and being nonproductive. To improve communication and conflict resolution skills, we devoted the first Truthspeaking workshop to learning how to separate feelings from thoughts. An example we used was, “I’m angry because there weren’t any nuts left for me.” That is not a clear statement because it will not necessarily meet the needs of the speaker. She might receive empathy in response to her anger, yet the issue remains unresolved. Someone might rescue her by giving her nuts, and again the core issue remains unresolved. Neither of these approaches addresses the core issue, which could be fear, a sense of rejection, or even guilt for not letting her needs be known before she left. Nor do the approaches help the person to help herself. Instead, she could be learning to use anger to get her needs met. Additionally, her disempowerment sets the stage for the clan taking action without being informed of her needs.

Another approach would be for her to separate her feelings from the issue at hand, and to address both separately. She could say, “I’m angry. I don’t have any nuts to eat—it seems there were none left for me. Now I’m hungry; does anyone know where my nuts are?” She has expressed her feelings first, and then she addressed the issue by asking directly for help. This small but remarkable shift in expression helped her take responsibility for her feelings rather than blaming them on others and triggering reactiveness, which often gets in the way of getting needs met. Now, without emotions creating distance between her and the clan, they can together work on the issue.


Crafting, truthspeaking, truthlistening.

The second Truthspeaking workshop was dedicated to learning how to communicate in meetings. Listening, the first item on the agenda, is a key component to creating circle consciousness during meetings. When everyone is able to listen from the heart, one person can speak and each and every person hears it for what it is. The person’s spoken awareness is everyone’s awareness.  When we are not able to listen, we continually need to be told, and the speaker feels a continual need to repeat himself. This often leads to frustration, entrenchment, and the taking of sides.

The second agenda item was on how to speak so that I will be heard. When I am clear, succinct, and straightforward, I only need to speak once and my message is received.

The kids just want to play.

The Truthspeaking workshops were effective—meetings are gradually becoming shorter, less divisive, and more productive. Yet one issue persisted: the presence of toddlers, who were disruptive to the meeting because they were not getting their needs met by adults who could not be present for them. One child in particular was persistent in going around the circle trying to get attention. First you try to initiate play by teasing the adults with a stick; and when that didn’t work, he resorted to taking things from people and walking away with them.

Several adults grew frustrated and reacted in ways that frustrated the child as well. He resorted to whining and tantrums, and after several meetings of this, the issue became a meeting topic. We explored why children whine. “Take a look at him taking things from others,” said Tamarack, “why is he doing this?” Tamarack offered for the Seekers to think about games for a moment: what is the basis of most games (and ballgames are a good example) is to take something from one person and give it to someone else, or put it somewhere else. All this child wanted to do was play a typical game. So what’s left is to figure out how to create a win-win situation— the child playing a game and the adults having their meeting.

Hakar puts his nutshells away–children especially are connected to place.

At first the group decided to have someone take the child away from the hearth and play with him. It worked for a while, until he wanted to wander back and be closer to Mom. The circle then began to recognize that children, especially small children, are connected with place—their world is small. The group then decided to leave the hearth and have their meetings a little farther off. This left the little one and his playmates a place that is comfortable and familiar to them. It worked: we now have contented children and happy adults.


The Rainbow’s woodland home.



Many of you have asked about the Rainbows and their time away from the main camp. They left because they had a disagreement with a couple of people in the clan, and they wanted to take some time to reflect. They did this with the consent and support of their circle and the guides. They’re doing well in their temporary camp: the Guides spend time with them regularly and the children come back to the main camp at Wabanong every day to play. Additionally, the Rainbows’ camp is not terribly isolated—it’s close enough to share a canoe landing with the Guardian camp at Zhaawanong.

The Seekers are looking forward to next few suns, especially to the upcoming Weather Forecasting workshop and the beginning of hide tanning. With the next post you’ll hear more about their progress toward shared parenting and the evolution of the children’s culture. What a joy it is to watch them both blossom side-by-side!

A Rainbow in the Wilderness

Following is a post from the Rainbows.

One moon has gone by since we left to be on our own. Two moons since we have been part of nature.

We don’t have a clock–we have sun and the moon.

We don’t need shampoo–the lake makes our hair so soft.

We can drink wild water.

Our nails we cut with our knife.

Toilet paper has grown since our first moons. Leaves, sphagnum moss.

We realize how interesting every day tasks are here! Sometimes if I sit under a tree for a little bit out in the wilderness, a bird, who doesn’t see me, sits close to me and I can watch it while I sit there. Or a little spider comes to say hello.

We don’t miss salt–our meals taste so good without it.

In our heart we are so thankful to be here–to have the possibility to live one turn of the seasons in the wilderness.

We have time to look to the sky, the clouds.

I have time to climb trees, how long it has been since the last time I’ve done that. It felt so wonderful to sit at the top of a big tree!

We cook on open fire. The eggs, too. Or we cook with hot stones.

A few of us have made spoons and bowls that we use now.

We sharpen our knives with flat stones.

With roots, we make rope.

We dug deep holes for our food-pit, to store food in, and it stays really cold in there.

We enjoy this primitive life. We have all we really need. This is luxury for us. This is, for us, modern life. We are so happy to not have to sit in front of a computer or in a car or use a phone. Don’t have to go shopping, or hear the news.


Hello From the Rainbows

We want to share a little about our time. For one and a half moons we have lived in the wilderness, and we are getting more and more wild. We enjoy being outside the whole sun in nature and living in the natural rhythm. Drinking wild water, cooking with fire, eating greens from the woods–all these are a part of each sun.

We have been lucky with the weather. Not a lot of rain–warm, sunny weather. The children and us parents love canoeing.

We are still vegetarian and don’t feel a need to eat meat, bearfat, or fish at all.

We are surrounded by many noises–birds are singing, frogs, sometimes we hear coyotes or wolves. Our neighbors are porcupine, squirrels, and some unknowns.

We love to be in the woods! Right now, for about more or less 14 suns, we have lived on the other side of the lake–without the clan. Something was happening that we could not support and we needed to take a stand–and that was that we leave the clan. We are not able anymore to stand with our heart, soul, and our Whole Person, in the Family Yearlong, but we want to have a yearlong in the wilderness. So we are looking forward–greetings from the other side of the lake, from the wilderness.