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When we spend time on wild land with curiosity, intention and a willingness to deeply listen, we come back with stories that need to be shared. Big or small, we all have stories to tell, and people need to hear them as well. If you've been to your sit spot or on a wild wander and you'd like to tell your story, do tell...
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Methow Community Ceremony ~ A Story of Belonging
by Scott Davidson and Darcy Ottey, a story through four seasons with intention with people who call the Methow home
Methow Valley, WA - Summer
by Scott Davidson and Darcy Ottey, a story through four seasons with intention with people who call the Methow home
Methow Valley, WA - Summer
Belonging grows in reciprocity and needs to be well-fed. Otherwise, the centrifugal force of industrial growth society, as Joanna Macy calls it, continues its self-perpetuating work of isolating and disconnecting us from ourselves, each other, the earth, and the Divine.
A dear friend in a painful life transition humbly asked for support, “Darcy, can you help me? I am in a big transition. Will you help me create a ceremony?” So began a wide and wild circle of belonging offering healing beyond one life and one town. Read more...
A dear friend in a painful life transition humbly asked for support, “Darcy, can you help me? I am in a big transition. Will you help me create a ceremony?” So began a wide and wild circle of belonging offering healing beyond one life and one town. Read more...
Walking Local Waters ~ Reclaiming Pilgrimage
by Scott Davidson, stories of walking with local waters in the Lagunitas Creek watershed with teens
Lagunitas Creek Watershed, CA - Autumn
by Scott Davidson, stories of walking with local waters in the Lagunitas Creek watershed with teens
Lagunitas Creek Watershed, CA - Autumn
Oh, what a day! Adolescents and pilgrimage? Really?!
Chico students of The Wildflower School walked this mini and potent water pilgrimage with Lagunitas Creek in my home watershed just before the Bioneers Conference. So simple, natural and meaningful. Read more...
Chico students of The Wildflower School walked this mini and potent water pilgrimage with Lagunitas Creek in my home watershed just before the Bioneers Conference. So simple, natural and meaningful. Read more...
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Welcome, Dear Refugees
by Scott Davidson, stories of welcoming all parts into community, wounded and gifted alike
in a Bjørnebekk forest, Ås, Norway - Winter
This is a kind of threshold that I may never know, unless I let my heart crack open enough to truly meet them at this border crossing, until I am humbled enough to remember my own ancestors and their crossings ages ago.
We sorted the reindeer skins and firewood in the early winter light to prep for the day. I was visiting Norway from the United States and honored to be invited into this project with a dear friend who works as a ranger there. In the isolating outskirts of Ås, Norway, well outside of Oslo, in collaboration with the Bjørnebekk Immigration Office, the Norwegian Environment Agency Statens Naturoppsyn, as well as local Norwegian neighbors and me, a humbled threshold guide, we wholeheartedly welcomed refugees from Syria, Iraq, Eritrea and Uganda into the Norwegian forest and local human community with open arms. Read more...
by Scott Davidson, stories of welcoming all parts into community, wounded and gifted alike
in a Bjørnebekk forest, Ås, Norway - Winter
This is a kind of threshold that I may never know, unless I let my heart crack open enough to truly meet them at this border crossing, until I am humbled enough to remember my own ancestors and their crossings ages ago.
We sorted the reindeer skins and firewood in the early winter light to prep for the day. I was visiting Norway from the United States and honored to be invited into this project with a dear friend who works as a ranger there. In the isolating outskirts of Ås, Norway, well outside of Oslo, in collaboration with the Bjørnebekk Immigration Office, the Norwegian Environment Agency Statens Naturoppsyn, as well as local Norwegian neighbors and me, a humbled threshold guide, we wholeheartedly welcomed refugees from Syria, Iraq, Eritrea and Uganda into the Norwegian forest and local human community with open arms. Read more...
Courted by a Mono Lion
by Scott Davidson, a story of being too tired to track, in perfect form
Mono Lake, Eastern Sierra, CA - Summer
This was one of my most epic tracking experiences ever ~ following this mountain lion trail at twilight along Wilson Creek near Mono Lake just a few days ago! She skirted the edges of this riparian zone across pumice dust and gravel bars for miles, sagebrush blooming and nighthawks calling. SO fun! Read more...
by Scott Davidson, a story of being too tired to track, in perfect form
Mono Lake, Eastern Sierra, CA - Summer
This was one of my most epic tracking experiences ever ~ following this mountain lion trail at twilight along Wilson Creek near Mono Lake just a few days ago! She skirted the edges of this riparian zone across pumice dust and gravel bars for miles, sagebrush blooming and nighthawks calling. SO fun! Read more...
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Tracking and Questing in South Africa
by Scott Davidson, stories of being called to South Africa, of circles clearly serving
6th International Guides Gathering in Western Cape and Tracker Academy in the Great Karoo - Spring
Our circle was set in the shaded clearing of bitterbos and sweet thorn acacias with red cloth, directional stones and a kudu horn at the center for stories. “Who wants to start?” We sat with quiet anticipation in our circle. They each walked the land with a question and a willingness to listen. Certainly they each have stories to tell. Benedict leaned in to hold the kudu horn, our talking piece this time. We all listened. Wildlife trackers are naturally good listeners, and always have stories to share, especially on this particular morning at the Tracker Academy. The birds listened too. Read more...
by Scott Davidson, stories of being called to South Africa, of circles clearly serving
6th International Guides Gathering in Western Cape and Tracker Academy in the Great Karoo - Spring
Our circle was set in the shaded clearing of bitterbos and sweet thorn acacias with red cloth, directional stones and a kudu horn at the center for stories. “Who wants to start?” We sat with quiet anticipation in our circle. They each walked the land with a question and a willingness to listen. Certainly they each have stories to tell. Benedict leaned in to hold the kudu horn, our talking piece this time. We all listened. Wildlife trackers are naturally good listeners, and always have stories to share, especially on this particular morning at the Tracker Academy. The birds listened too. Read more...
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A Year Has Passed ~ A Fire Well Tended
by Scott Davidson, stories of tending through the seasons after Dad's passing, tending to my heart, passions and vision...
Point Reyes, CA, Delmar, NY, Sonoran Desert, AZ, Northern Cascades, WA - Winter into Summer
This has been perhaps the most wild and soulful year of my life, well beyond my control, rich with guiding synchronicities and opportunities to meet the present moments fully, in service to myself and all. Dad passed late in the summertime of 2013. In the fall, Brother and I emptied his house and closed countless accounts from his life, while tending to our own in the spaces in between. By winter 2014, there was nothing in particular to do anymore. We tended well to Dad's life, death and his many things left behind, finding balance within ourselves as best we could along the way. And then there was space to be with my own life, space for me to tend my own sacred fire. Read more...
by Scott Davidson, stories of tending through the seasons after Dad's passing, tending to my heart, passions and vision...
Point Reyes, CA, Delmar, NY, Sonoran Desert, AZ, Northern Cascades, WA - Winter into Summer
This has been perhaps the most wild and soulful year of my life, well beyond my control, rich with guiding synchronicities and opportunities to meet the present moments fully, in service to myself and all. Dad passed late in the summertime of 2013. In the fall, Brother and I emptied his house and closed countless accounts from his life, while tending to our own in the spaces in between. By winter 2014, there was nothing in particular to do anymore. We tended well to Dad's life, death and his many things left behind, finding balance within ourselves as best we could along the way. And then there was space to be with my own life, space for me to tend my own sacred fire. Read more...
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A Pillar Falls ~ My Father Dies
by Scott Davidson, stories from the month that followed Dad's passing...
Redwood Shores and Point Reyes, CA - Summer into Fall 2013
September 15 in Lagunitas, CA
I'm still feeling so fully held and loved up by the Sacred Fire and so many dear friends who met me there (and here) ~ these pics from the morning after a week ago. Big life transitions (Dad died) need to be marked and witnessed in community in order to become complete. This traditional 24 hour sacred fire ceremony, plus the powerful memorial service at Dad's church the day before, were huge leaps for me (and for Dad, my brother, all of us) in this great transition. Big Big Thanks for this Sacred Fire ceremony and the people that carry it forward. What a gift! Read more...
by Scott Davidson, stories from the month that followed Dad's passing...
Redwood Shores and Point Reyes, CA - Summer into Fall 2013
September 15 in Lagunitas, CA
I'm still feeling so fully held and loved up by the Sacred Fire and so many dear friends who met me there (and here) ~ these pics from the morning after a week ago. Big life transitions (Dad died) need to be marked and witnessed in community in order to become complete. This traditional 24 hour sacred fire ceremony, plus the powerful memorial service at Dad's church the day before, were huge leaps for me (and for Dad, my brother, all of us) in this great transition. Big Big Thanks for this Sacred Fire ceremony and the people that carry it forward. What a gift! Read more...
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A Pillar Is Falling ~ My Father is Dying
by Scott Davidson, stories from our last month with Dad
Redwood Shores, CA - August into September 2nd, 2013
September 2nd on the Pacific coast
Go well, dear Dad...
After another fading yet peaceful day with Dad yesterday, followed by digging into old photos and sipping Scotch with brother last night, Dad passed this morning, with amazing grace, peace and faith. Wow, what a blessing. What a terrible blessing... Big Thanks and Cheers to this precious gift of life! I thought, "Wow, Dad. You did it..." I'm so proud of him, and so so sad. Read more...
by Scott Davidson, stories from our last month with Dad
Redwood Shores, CA - August into September 2nd, 2013
September 2nd on the Pacific coast
Go well, dear Dad...
After another fading yet peaceful day with Dad yesterday, followed by digging into old photos and sipping Scotch with brother last night, Dad passed this morning, with amazing grace, peace and faith. Wow, what a blessing. What a terrible blessing... Big Thanks and Cheers to this precious gift of life! I thought, "Wow, Dad. You did it..." I'm so proud of him, and so so sad. Read more...
Tapetenwechsel again
by Susanne Weihl, ajournalofherwork.com
SF, CA to Dayton, NV - Summer
My aunt mentioned the word ‘Tapetenwechsel’ as I described the desire to see the open road again. Nevada called, its open arid landscape and present that feels so past. Through Yosemite, past Mono Lake and Carson City to Dayton, Nevada.
It wasn’t that long ago dreams and ambitions found this particular piece of earth and stayed — their life’s markers etched places of home as Bavaria, France, Switzerland. A landscape I could only image came as quite a surprise, they settled, mined and farmed, had families, found kinfolk, and a new life.
As the fragrant Russian sage graced front gardens, the heat climbed to 100 in the retreat of the shade. I found a bit of paradise in this needed change of scenery. Stillness, a bit of small talk with a local, and San Francisco’s summer fog left far behind.
by Susanne Weihl, ajournalofherwork.com
SF, CA to Dayton, NV - Summer
My aunt mentioned the word ‘Tapetenwechsel’ as I described the desire to see the open road again. Nevada called, its open arid landscape and present that feels so past. Through Yosemite, past Mono Lake and Carson City to Dayton, Nevada.
It wasn’t that long ago dreams and ambitions found this particular piece of earth and stayed — their life’s markers etched places of home as Bavaria, France, Switzerland. A landscape I could only image came as quite a surprise, they settled, mined and farmed, had families, found kinfolk, and a new life.
As the fragrant Russian sage graced front gardens, the heat climbed to 100 in the retreat of the shade. I found a bit of paradise in this needed change of scenery. Stillness, a bit of small talk with a local, and San Francisco’s summer fog left far behind.
Connection through Nature
by Kirk Lumpkin, kirklumpkin.com
East Bay, CA - Summer
I know it is always there
and the possibility of feeling it
waits in the tiniest shift of focus--
The wind’s breath flowing
through waving meadow grasses,
wild flowers bowing,
The great twisting live oak
branches raised in a slow motion dance across centuries,
Two tiny bright blue butterflies
furiously whirling around each other in their mating ceremony,
The vulture who takes only what death has left it
rising, circling with barely a beat and tilt
of it’s wide-spread wings
keeps soaring in the brilliant sky,
The little song sparrows
with their plumage of basic browns
like all creatures must accomplish many things to inhabit this world,
but cannot continue on
without their song,
And even the Cooper’s Hawk
shredding the flesh of one of these same song birds
for its sustenance--
downy feathers floating down
from the body pinned to the branch where it feeds,
The chorus frogs so deeply entranced by their own twanging music
that they repeat it over and over and over again
until it becomes part of the body of the night--
an energy field enveloping us,
And the indigenous Harvest Brodiaea lily
its royal purple petals chaliced in a six point star
stemming from the inner Easter candle of its own rebirth--
Ahhh, all of these and many more
open up in me, call it
“spirit,” “god,” “energy,” “chi,” “prana,” “life,” “love,” whatever--
a welling up bringing return
of amazement, mystery, and gratitude,
And though I still have questions
I have no need of answers--
gone wild
as the human heart
by Kirk Lumpkin, kirklumpkin.com
East Bay, CA - Summer
I know it is always there
and the possibility of feeling it
waits in the tiniest shift of focus--
The wind’s breath flowing
through waving meadow grasses,
wild flowers bowing,
The great twisting live oak
branches raised in a slow motion dance across centuries,
Two tiny bright blue butterflies
furiously whirling around each other in their mating ceremony,
The vulture who takes only what death has left it
rising, circling with barely a beat and tilt
of it’s wide-spread wings
keeps soaring in the brilliant sky,
The little song sparrows
with their plumage of basic browns
like all creatures must accomplish many things to inhabit this world,
but cannot continue on
without their song,
And even the Cooper’s Hawk
shredding the flesh of one of these same song birds
for its sustenance--
downy feathers floating down
from the body pinned to the branch where it feeds,
The chorus frogs so deeply entranced by their own twanging music
that they repeat it over and over and over again
until it becomes part of the body of the night--
an energy field enveloping us,
And the indigenous Harvest Brodiaea lily
its royal purple petals chaliced in a six point star
stemming from the inner Easter candle of its own rebirth--
Ahhh, all of these and many more
open up in me, call it
“spirit,” “god,” “energy,” “chi,” “prana,” “life,” “love,” whatever--
a welling up bringing return
of amazement, mystery, and gratitude,
And though I still have questions
I have no need of answers--
gone wild
as the human heart
A Sit Spot Story: Kissed by the light
by Scott Davidson
Lagunitas, CA - Spring
The truth is, I haven't seen the Tabby cat in a week, with its feral-fat tail and stocky confidence. Has it claimed some other back ally in these woods, or get claimed by a 'coon? Meanwhile, the Siamese proudly paused in the morning orchard light, head high, rump tucked, big blue eyes an ocean of seeing and knowing. What a beautiful creature of black, tan and blue. And her seeing with those eyes...
Like so many days, I started this day with a piping hot cup of tea and a sit spot on the hill near the garden, to be held by the Earth and to listen. The grasses have been growing so tall and fast on these warm days that my morning path from yesterday was still apparent, and the day before. I like going a different way each time when my prints are heavy, and I've run out of new ways, it seems. It's become a funny dilemma for me each time (how can I, which way do I...?), and still I manage to get there to sit and listen with tall grasses, firs and sky. I love that spot. My heart drops in each time I land there, knowing that that spot holds me so well. Knowing that eventually, no matter how lonely, I'll be heart-moved by this wild place again. It happens every time, when I say hello and ask for it, when I listen.
With a symphony of Juncos, Towhees and Quail, and a surprise tickle on my right hand, I looked down upon this stickly creature poised mid-canopy in the grasses, like a gentle samurai up high in a bamboo forest, waiting. This little cranefly, with its very long everywhere legs, brushed my hand while adjusting its precarious way in the dew-covered grasses. "Oh, hello little creature... Are you too dew damp to fly now?" What a tender moment. It waited and I watched, for a loooong time. The rising sun was climbing high, as it does, dependably, every single day, thankfully, with dappled light just beginning to touch some sparkling dew. It still had a ways to go and yet its power already felt by all, awake or not. Even those too weak, scared or deep to climb up high were still being kissed by the light. It's what light does with the damp darkness. Kissed by the light. And the cranefly still waited while I watched, not yet ready to let the grasses go and fly. Then I spotted another one just left of my knee, same pose, waiting. I smiled in good company this morning, I too needing the light to fly.
And I wondered, what will this Siamese see and play with next?
by Scott Davidson
Lagunitas, CA - Spring
The truth is, I haven't seen the Tabby cat in a week, with its feral-fat tail and stocky confidence. Has it claimed some other back ally in these woods, or get claimed by a 'coon? Meanwhile, the Siamese proudly paused in the morning orchard light, head high, rump tucked, big blue eyes an ocean of seeing and knowing. What a beautiful creature of black, tan and blue. And her seeing with those eyes...
Like so many days, I started this day with a piping hot cup of tea and a sit spot on the hill near the garden, to be held by the Earth and to listen. The grasses have been growing so tall and fast on these warm days that my morning path from yesterday was still apparent, and the day before. I like going a different way each time when my prints are heavy, and I've run out of new ways, it seems. It's become a funny dilemma for me each time (how can I, which way do I...?), and still I manage to get there to sit and listen with tall grasses, firs and sky. I love that spot. My heart drops in each time I land there, knowing that that spot holds me so well. Knowing that eventually, no matter how lonely, I'll be heart-moved by this wild place again. It happens every time, when I say hello and ask for it, when I listen.
With a symphony of Juncos, Towhees and Quail, and a surprise tickle on my right hand, I looked down upon this stickly creature poised mid-canopy in the grasses, like a gentle samurai up high in a bamboo forest, waiting. This little cranefly, with its very long everywhere legs, brushed my hand while adjusting its precarious way in the dew-covered grasses. "Oh, hello little creature... Are you too dew damp to fly now?" What a tender moment. It waited and I watched, for a loooong time. The rising sun was climbing high, as it does, dependably, every single day, thankfully, with dappled light just beginning to touch some sparkling dew. It still had a ways to go and yet its power already felt by all, awake or not. Even those too weak, scared or deep to climb up high were still being kissed by the light. It's what light does with the damp darkness. Kissed by the light. And the cranefly still waited while I watched, not yet ready to let the grasses go and fly. Then I spotted another one just left of my knee, same pose, waiting. I smiled in good company this morning, I too needing the light to fly.
And I wondered, what will this Siamese see and play with next?