It’s not long after sunrise, and the morning fog begins to lift as I walk our circular grove. A clockwise loop along the nine young cedars, centered by the twin hawthorn trees, helps me trace the Wheel of the Year. With four stones marking the cross-quarter days, it feels natural to pause between two cedars at September’s place in the Wheel.
It feels good to pause there too. To notice the changes in the roses, to feel the presence of the mountains unseen in the West, to hear how the wrens have shifted their song. This is life, isn't it? Real life.
So many creatures, of so many kinds, understanding their place in the forest, their time in the year. All around me life seeks balance and welcomes change, and my heart is full.
I feel the changing habits of my neighbors in the sound of skittering squirrels and the soft touch of a single strand of web against my brow. I feel the balance between light and shade that keep the honeysuckle fruiting, and the balance between the softness and solidity of soil hollowed by homes of snakes and voles while it holds the towering firs firmly in place.
Every day I also strive for this balance in my life and in this world, but in these recent weeks, it seems further out of reach than ever before. Like something bumped our world and we are tilting down a steep slide into somewhere beyond the hope of recovery.
How do we change course? And where do we go from here?
At times like this I am deeply grateful for the trees and the wisdom they hold. Here, on these 6 acres, it’s the cedars and maples that stand out as my great teachers. On Hawai’i Island, the koa and ‘ōhi‘a taught me masterful lessons, and the hala and ironwood too.
In California, it’s the redwoods.
A couple of weeks ago, Trystin and I visited the redwoods of Muir Woods. I’ve been there a few times in recent years and always emerge deeply refreshed and a little bit wiser after some time with the ancient ingenuity and magnificent resilience of these enduring giants.
And it was here, 20 years ago this month, where an experience of profound connectedness deepened my sense of place in the world, and it’s been a beacon, and an anchor, in the turbulent seas we’ve been sailing ever since.
I originally shared this experience exclusively with patrons in 2017, and now I share it again with all of you. It’s often in my thoughts, but even more so now as I struggle to decipher the right way to live amidst such wrongness. Maybe I need that beacon of light in these dark days. Maybe I need that anchor in this particularly harrowing storm.
And so I share this reflection, touching timelessness, on the eve of the Equinox, because it helps me find balance, and I hope it offers something similar for you.
Last night, balance came in a different and desperately needed way: rain.
The evening before, I could almost hear the trees asking for rain, and the deer were exploring strangely close to the house. I soon realized they were in search of water. I shared some apples from the tree and set some water in a container under the plum, just in case the forecast of rain, like many times already this year, failed to come true.
But the rain came, and Trystin and I are excited for the changes this time of balance brings. The house is decorated with signs of the harvest and the symbols that celebrate the season ahead where rain falls to balance the scorching sun, and night ascends to balance the rule of day.
Our greenhouse and little garden, so generously supported (and even built!) by this community, are still producing, and the apple trees have reached peak harvest.
The maple grove is already deep with fallen leaves, and the ferns, once sagging with drought, stand a little taller with the rain.
Walks at dawn and dusk accentuate the emerging palette of autumn, and we are so grateful to know this land in every season. And we are grateful for every person supporting our vision to grow community and ecological abundance on these 6 acres.
Please enjoy these images of life on this land from early autumn, and may the story from the redwoods, and the land around you now, bring lessons of balance and change that give you strength in these turbulent times.
Thanks for loving this land with us, autumn blessings to you all,
🌲Zach & Trystin