Lunisolar Reckoning

Heill öll,
This full moon: Tiusto’s day; Black Frost moon or the moon of Þorri, was simply amazing. The shadowy woods, the bright, milk-silvery Máni shield, and the smear of gossamer clouds across the sky. It was an evening of shadow, halo, and flame, where arthritic trees danced in an entropic frenzy whilst the crisp air and misty-mouthed galdr of night animals rang and sang throughout the hills. The Old Man stirred within the stone of my heart, and an emanating ripple of the ride opened the horse-doors within the sky. A halo of the shadowed rainbow glowed ’round the bright eye of the moon.

Something I have never seen before in my 27 years in Midgard. Unfortunately my camera is not equipped to take adequate night photography, but this image is as close to what was observed above the land of these Northern Ontario forests. It is known as a ‘glory’ and surely the Gods were a bit closer to us this night.

A Rainbow Moon Over San Francisco - Far Out City


Mimirs Head bookstore

After a long hiatus and some adjustments to the site I have reopened my Mimirs Head bookstore, with updated information on the titles, and new Scandinavian design. In the plans is another book of collected essays and transmissions from my other authored blog: Check out Mimir’s Head bookstore for a selection of my self-published books, and written gild works. Orders can be made with paypal or bitcoin.

:RUNALJOD: Rune Cycle of the Year

Before our modern time keeping of the Gregorian calendar, our ancestors marked the Yule time as the birth of the new year. The period when Ýlir ended, (The Yule month), and Mörsugur began, (fat-sucking month), probably noteworthy for the end of the hunt, and the animal fats eaten during winter to keep the body healthy. This was the time when the Sun ‘died’, Baldr’s funeral, which in the Arctic of Iceland never come fully above the horizon for three days, until at last, the sun (baldr’s rebirth) hearkened the new year, and the light began to return to the polar skies.

Dauði Baldrs // The Death of Baldr // Śmierć Baldra

New years is a time in contemporary ages when people make resolutions that they usually end up breaking, or impossible goals with no grounding in reality or the capability of their own powers. Once these goals are broken, they tend to get lax for the rest of the year, a kind of profound apathy takes over, there is no true inner work being done, or self-reflection of one’s accomplishments after the year has turned and the reapings collected. In the Viking age, boasts were made by the men and women of what one has become in the short time of a year, of the 13 full moons of the cycle, toasts were made to the Gods, the ancestors, and the folk. Oaths were sworn, spoken over expensive gold arm rings, and these words were representative of a man’s worth and wyrd. I personally do not create new years resolutions in the modern way, though I do make them silently, and keep my goals mostly to myself. But for the past four years I’ve established a kind of rune wheel of the year in a view. All the notable events, experiences, lessons, ideas, relationships, novelty, the highlights and the murkiness, from a runic perspective. Now that we are well clear of the Yule month and the turning of the contemporary year 2018, I’ve made one for the year that is now sunken into urds well. The idea for this is originally from the Galdragildi, and I have made new modifications on it over the years, reflecting a kind of mytho-poetical world-view, as seeing and experiencing life as a story and personal mythology, it ismore than it appears to be. The runes are tools that I have enabled me to do that.

:fehu: found myself broke, very broke, and learned the hard way how to save it back up, deeper understanding of mobile wealth and economy, made first steps to acquiring bitcoin, sold some of my own books, photos and handmade products at events, found myself rich in life and the things that mattered beyond money

:ūruz: the power of hard work, starting over, the beginning of a new life, the domestication of consequence always has a wild and untamed ancestral spirit

:þurisaz: fought against giants and severe health problems, uncontrollable forces of wyrd, relationships turned as bitter seeds with dying fruit, the collective adversary of being one man estranged from the modern people,

:ansuz: met the Gods on my own terms, drank the mead of inspiration, and ingested of the agaric mushroom ally, kratom medicine, beekeeping, opened pathways of communication with new kin, journaling as a means of self-growth, deep meditation, conversed with those of high mind and nourished my own with literature and music, stadhagaldr and yoga/yoking practice, words have exact meaning and power

:raidō: traveled to Guatemala, Mexico, eastern and western Canada, the one who knows how to navigate the nine worlds carries a Vegvisir stave on his person

:kaunan: cut four cords of winter wood, sacrificed what I thought I knew to make room for novel ideas and information, put my body on the line for a higher purpose, as the broken sword is re-forged in the flames for Sigurd’s heroic undertaking

:gebō: gift economy and trade in central America, yule giving, the delicate balance of having just enough, and giving only what I can

:wunjō: the frith of time well spent with brother and sister, community lifestyle while living with a yoga school, entered a short lived but deeply spiritual and loving partnership, new connections with brotherhood/mannerbunde of my own neo-tribe

:hagalaz: faced death and ruin with humility and surrender, came back from the matrix of hail to  re-shape and reform myself along the branches of the yew

:naudiz: when need presented itself I was there to see it and meet its demands, the friction of facing reality while manifesting my own mythology,

:īsaz: essential solitude, and the consolidation of spent energy into rest and healing, sedentary living during a four month time span, the risk of being alone to truly understand what it means to be with the other

:jēra: gathered, foraged and farmed as much food as possible from the land being nearly 50% of my food, harvested sunflowers, vegetables, berries, roots, leaves, and mushrooms through the year, planted over 180,000 trees, and tended the soil of my southern Ontario lands, a seed sown sends a deep taproot and sends our foliage streaming sunwards

:eihwaz: the yew holds all my vices and virtues, it drips down like sweat, tears, and blood, back into the well, as one deed leads to another

:perþ: sometimes life writes it own rules and we are simply game pieces that play by them until we realize the control we actually have

:algiz: held personal boundaries, created new ones and transcended others, stood in reverence of the One, :EIK EINHAMR: being not of one skin

:sōwilō: a sun rune branded on skin, summer solstice spent in the forest garden, found success in new endeavors, became really good at being good at many things,

:tīwaz: maintain a thriving life in the inangard of my kin, while at times venturing out to the utangard to gain new perspectives of what was truly right, understanding the order and patterning of my own being and how to alter my fate in more efficient ways, shared honor in those who have bestowed me with respect, and sometimes harsh justice for those who went the other way

:berkanan: deep loving relationship with the divine feminine and the women who embody her, a more thorough understanding of the Baldr myth, chaga harvesting from Birch trees, explored the ancient and modern female archetypes, decided I want to have a wife

:ehwaz: as a passenger by life’s fetch I had time to view the scenery, and travel far to meet those who expected me

:mannaz: rites of passage, blot, brotherhood, explored the rabbit hole of primal masculinity and the male archetype in society and tribe, being a good man and being good at being a man

:laguz: life beside the sea, ritual taking at the oceanside, canoed in a southern mangrove with crocodiles, a trip to the high tides at the Bay of Fundy in New Brunswick, like flowing water nothing lasts or stays in one place

:ingwaz: sowed potent seeds to enact future dreams,

:ōþala: renovated guest houses in central america for travelers, found home in the escarpment area of Niagara, and stayed with others while out traveling the world,

:dagaz: at the end of the day, I regret nothing

Heathenry, The Old Northern European Ways | Heathenry, A ...


Hunting for the Perfect Winter Hygge Homestead

At certain times in life it is important to consolidate oneself to the bare bones of existence and start over, and build upon the human experience with meaning, intentionality, and a hunger for the spirit and joy instilled in the moment of things. This is the meaning of the rune :Wyn: and is closely related to this time of winter when the day is cold and keeps the meek inside, the darkness is complete, and the prospects are few. When the she-bear goes into hibernation, and the thaw makes of the landscape a field of white. Wooden cabin boards creak and groan from the frozen climes, and people seek their comforts in leisure, company and homeliness. We have this concept in the North of Canada, and our Scandinavian cousins have theirs, ‘hyggelig’, ‘koselig’, all the things that make a place comfortable and enjoyable to live or spend time with.

What is 'HYGGE'? - Hygge Styling

I’m always seeking to find the perfect amount of ‘hygge’ within the morass of rural habitation, and city scape, whether it be a cafe fitted with antique viking skiis on the wall, the perfect brew, amber lights, old furniture and gas fireplace, or a rustic old charm of a cabin in the woods, a natural feature of the nature which surrounds it. If we are going to spend the majority of our waking hours at home, I think we should go to every means to make it comfortable, and from understanding the way it is done in Scandinavia, specifically Danish and Norwegian culture, I’m looking for some of these traces in my own country for the perfect winter dwelling. Choices are limited as a solitary individual living on a budget, and a search in the vastness of the internet will not turn out many optimal situations for one to live. The repeated circumstances of shared dwellings, basement dives, and overpriced rooms are not helpful for those who desire to live a more peaceful, private and connected life, and these are just simply not hygge. What my soul really needs is a dose of the Northern comfort again, the living homestead, with the breath hearth keeping it warm, natural cold winter light and a view of the sun set from the windows, and the unpolluted sky of night, a dwelling as country as its surroundings, but a place for others to gather, to feast, and enjoy different strains of music, drink hot black coffee, to socialize, make story and manifest experience. To wax in all the good things of life; wine, women, wilderness, literature, song, dance, food, and rest. North enough maybe to catch the northern lights, or watch the wildlife play out of doors. My soul seeks the pleasures of solitude, but also the mutual attraction of the other, the presence of the empowered feminine, to both share spirit and nest with. Where one is King in their own home, and no one soul can infringe upon the boundaries of your space. To carry a dream, to make it real, to let ones home be blessed by the Gods, and the ways of Yore. Of tradition within the walls, a handbuilt life, of things that grow, and divine comforts that are known by those people of the North, who must retire, rest, and re-awaken themselves. Gathered by the accoutrement’s that compliment the spirit.

Wildwood Cabin for Rent in BC, British Columbia, East ...

For the now, I am in transit as of writing this, but the wheels are turning in good favor, and a move north into the woods of the Boreal of Ontario is at hand, to overwinter in a Mongolian yurt. I’ll spend some time here working the land for some friends, exploring, building and learning the ways of the hunter. The road always leads North, and this is what is most familiar to me. Yule oaths are renewed and we are made in the birth of the solar year returning as we wax and grow Now I invite the onset of the season to unfurl, and I do my best to accommodate it, with woolen sweaters, and a good book, of course.

If/To The Unknown God

At the turning of the year, and the beginning of a new lunation, my soul is being transported through a ritual death and re-birth, of cleansing and renewal in a spiritual sacrifice on the Yew that holds all. From the trials and tribulations experienced in this :J:ear, to the dawn of a new one, I find myself waxing in thought, leading yet to another thought, and preparing for deed upon deed. I also find myself contemplating the poesy of the mead, and the strung wyrd stanzas voiced and written by minds before my own, particularly two from authors that have inspired me to higher states in my youth, and to this very day instill a wodened state of mind, and countenance that is remarkable to sit with. I wanted to share these words of wisdom from these two poets and thinkers, as they are motifs of the self in being and becoming, on the journey of man to become overman.

One of Nietzsche’s early poems, written when he was 20. The relevance to our path seems self-evident.

Mid-Month Meditation: “Nietzsche’s Unknown God ...
To the Unknown God

Once more, before I move on
and set my sights ahead,
I lift my hands up to you in isolation,
you to whom I flee,
to whom I, in the utmost depths of my heart,
solemnly consecrated altars
so that at any time
your voice may summon me again.

Deeply graved into those altars
glows the phrase: “To the Unknown God.”
I am his, although I have, until now,
lingered too among the unholy mob;
I am his—and I feel the snares
that pull me down in the struggle and,
if I would flee,
compel me yet into his service.

I want to know you, Unknown One,
Who reaches deep into my soul,
Who roams through my life like a storm—
You Unfathomable One, akin to me!
I want to know you, even serve you.

—Friedrich Nietzsche, 1864
Original:  Dem unbekannten Gott

Noch einmal, eh ich weiter ziehe
und meine Blicke vorwärts sende,
heb’ ich vereinsamt meine Hände
zu dir empor, zu dem ich fliehe,
dem ich in tiefster Herzenstiefe
Altäre feierlich geweiht,
daß allezeit
mich deine Stimme wieder riefe.

Darauf erglüht tiefeingeschrieben
das Wort: dem unbekannten Gotte.
Sein bin ich, ob ich in der Frevler Rotte
auch bis zur Stunde bin geblieben:
sein bin ich—und ich fühl’ die Schlingen,
die mich im Kampf darniederziehn
und, mag ich fliehn,
mich doch zu seinem Dienste zwingen.

Ich will dich kennen, Unbekannter,
du tief in meine Seele Greifender,
mein Leben wie ein Sturm Durchschweifender
du Unfaßbarer, mir Verwandter!
Ich will dich kennen, selbst dir dienen.

The Myth of Sisyphus

And Rudyard Kiplings poem ‘IF’, for every Man to know

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,

If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And–which is more-you’ll be a Man, my son!

So while others are making new years resolutions that (lets face it), you will probably break by next week, I’ve adopted these into my heart to face the forthcoming 13 moons, they serve as axioms of strength, belief, and will to face the ever changing faces of Life itself and my place within it.

Nordique Yule

This Yule was a time spent with a brother north of Montreal in the mountains of Quebec. Taking in honor of our Nordique and Scandinavian ancestors, we celebrated many of the traditions of the yule tide, from the birth of the new :S:olar Year until the 12th day of Yule. Each day bearing the frith and joy of company, gift exchanging, deep connections with nature, cabin camping, hearty food and comfort. We hailed the gods, and some of our heroes, drank horns of mead, ate wild game; duck and rabbit, and went into the werewolf mountain on snowshoes to make winter Blót to the old Gods who are with us, stoking the flames of the slumbering deadwood. A family cabin in the backcountry provided some precious time submersed in the Northern wilderness surrounded by :B:irch, maple and boreal forest, where we lit our yule hearth, and sage bundles to cleanse the old and bring in the new, making oaths and boasts over many a glass of craft beer, the blessed :ALU: inspired states overcoming our consciousness and waxing speech into the night as we read from the Jomsviking Saga, and the myths of Odin and his brothers. Two :S:ig runes were branded on flesh, from brother to brother, as markers of victory in the year and success in the rebirth of this new life ahead, and Icelandic staves inked onto skin, with troth and promise to the ways of yore. Snowshoeing onto a frozen lake and through golden birch forests, we harvested the first of this years medicinal Chaga. In communion with the Agaric mushroom, and the sacred northern herbs, deep meditations brought the mind into the high hall. Finding warmth in the frozen waste, song in the long nights, and bliss in the purity of the season We howl in the time of Yule to the forefathers and foremothers, as wolven denizens of this land. Sowing new seeds, and strengthening old roots!

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Hunt + Gather

I thought I would honor the waning of the year and recognizing my growth in the hunting and gathering and foraging world by putting up a compendium of the different species of plants, fungi, and animals that I have been fortunate enough to harvest throughout the year, getting as close to chronological order as possible. This is a relatively familiar lifeway I have engaged in but in this last calendar year and through moving onto a patch of Carolinian forest in southern Ontario, I have really found the opportunity to thrive in. Together with my travels in Meso-America earlier in the year, and a contract in the west of Canada, there have been ample different ecoranges and environments for me to explore, and taste. Without further digressing here is my person hunt + gather list by country from this year with a dream list to supplement this one for the new year. I have left out the domesticated or cultivated species to show only wildly growing varieties.


Gather: Trout lily (Erythronium denscanis), Salmon Berry (Rubus spectabilis), Thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus), Mulberry (morus nigra), Blackberry (Rubus fruticosus), Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellata), Pine Pollen (Pinaceae), Purple Raspberry (Rubus strigosus), Seabuckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides), Pineapple Weed (Matricaria discoidea), Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata), Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), Marijuana (cannabis), Peppermint (Mentha Piperita), Ramps (Allium Tricoccum), Morels (Morchella esculenta), Psilocybin (Psilocybe semilanceata), Fly Agaric (Amanita Muscaria, Reindeer Moss (Cladonia rangiferina), Puffballs (Lycoperdon perlatum), Reishi (Ganoderma lucidum), Pine Bolete (Boletus pinophilus), Coral Mushroom (Artomyces Pyxidatus), Chaga (Inonotus obliquus), Frost grapes (Vitis Riparia), Chokecherries (Prunus Virginiana), Elderberry (Sambucus Nigra), Western Sword Fern Fiddlehead (Polystichum munitum), Highbush Blueberries (Vaccinium corymbosum), Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis), Crowberry (Empetrum Nigrum), Highbush cranberries (Viburnum trilobum), Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum), Staghorn Sumac (Rhus Typhina), Red Dulse (Palmaria palmata), Kombu (Saccharina japonica), Red Oak Acorns (Quercus rubra), White Oak Acorns (Quercus alba), Crab Apples (Malus sylvestris), Cranberry Tree (Viburnum opulus), Huitlacoche/Corn Smut (Utsilago maydis), Paw paw (Asimina Triloba), Gingko (Gingko biloba), Rosehips (Rosa rugosa), Liberty Cap Mushrooms (Psilocybin cubensis), Striped Skunk (Mephitis mephitis) this was a roadkill specimen,

Hunt: Bar clams (Spisula solidissima), Green Crab (Carcinus maenus), Muscovy Duck (Cairina moschata),

Fish: Blue Tilapia (Oreochromis aureus),  Largemouth Bass (Micropterus salmoides),

About the Rainforests of Mexico | Experience Traveling in ...


Coconuts (Cocos nucifera), Almonds (Prunus amygdalus), Ceiba (Parmentiera aculeata), Mamey (Pouteria sapota), Prickly Pear (Opuntia ficus-indica), Neem (Azadirachta indica), Curry (Murraya koenigii), Nopal (Opuntia ficus-indica), Copal (Protium copal),


Sapota (Manilkara zapota), Avocado (Persea americana quilaoacatl), Cacao (Theobroma cacao), Red banana (Musa acuminata), Wild banana (Musa balbisiana), Jackfruit (Artocarpus heterophyllus), Wild Ginger, (Alpinia Mutica), Pineapple (Ananas comosus), Cardamom (Elettaria cardamomum), Coffee (Coffea arabica), Caimito (Chrysophyllum cainito), Lima (Citrus medica), Lychee (Litchi chinensis), Jacote (Spondias purpurea), Tiger Rat Snake (Spilotes pullatus) this one was already dead, and I cooked it over a fire,


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Dream List for 2018:

Hunt: Moose (Alces alces), Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo), Gray Squirrel ( (Sciurus carolinensis), White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), Fallow deer (Dama dama), Cottontail Rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus), Atlantic Salmon (Salmo salar), Walleye (Stizostedion vitreum),

Gather: American Ginseng (Panax quinquefolius), Yaupon (Ilex vomitoria), Quince (Cydonia oblonga),

Love is a Trip

We take a toke, and let love in, long and deep.

Inhale. Exhale.

Pheromones fill the ether of our abandon, while dopamine streams and Anadamides mix in clandestine chemical alchemies within our own heart cave and we are propelled again into the One.

We lose ourselves and become the other me, in Lak’ech Ala K’in, here without reserve or boundary, lost on a trip not unlike the memory.

Of this, and all of you.

They say we’ll all come down, from our altered state. Back into ordinary consciousness and survival games. It’s only the drugs maybe, the love sheds away in time, an incompatible experiment of mine.

But the answer is not tomorrow or yesterday, it’s being here now, and loving you today. There’s a new sun in the sky, and i’m revolving around it. The craving abides for awhile and we float in our each others orbits.

In perfect nature and organization

The wilderness of my soul starts to fuse back to its primal origins, when we sat and talked, liberated by the fire of our contents.

I know you know, where this way of being goes, and we’ve been here before in younger minds. Our bodies changed by time and space, we offer up our fates in exchange, and form anew.

I’m high on you and that’s how I want it to stay.

Runes of the Gift Culture :X:

:X: is the Rune of Giving and Receiving, the traditional meaning of Gift.

I often find that when people receive something for free, they believe it doesn’t have value, on the contrary, I still believe information should be free. So I write without interest in profit or mass publication. If you feel like you have gained anything substantial, useful, been inspired by, or re-used any of this material in your life or online journal and would be willing to contribute anything to the support of that, you can email some amount of whatever you can afford, you can send me bitcoin, which is an exciting new crypto-currency, through the website, for those that hold an account on this network.

follow the link to send bitcoin for about the price of a latte. Bitcoin coffee

Use the code: 15GyqNPyN1wEWSLQYyDqsh3sBfoNp869U2

Or if you use the old school paypal method, you can do that here: paypal offering

All contributions are gratefully appreciated and used to fuel these posts and the regular output here on the aferalspirit journal.

Tusen takk!

Hygge Life, chapter 8 +hiatus


So it’s cold now in southern Canada, though modest compared to those of you in Europe or the other parts of the Northern countries. I should by every means be sitting in the sauna, sipping black coffee by a fire, or wrapped in pelts in a warm house, instead I am taking time away from those things to just digest this seasons coming in, like the fog and mist that saturates the land now, and cloaks everything in dew and frost, another season transitions and I find myself in one very deep transition in myself. For starters, I have moved off the farm, with the conditioned cold and the end of market season, the crops are withering and there is nothing left for me to do. I no longer call the Carolinian forest my nest, but may return. In fates hands, one relationship of love ended, and one with a more empowered life has begun. It is our karma, that nothing lasts forever, and even romance is ephemeral. Love on the other hand changes forms, and I have headed on a new path.

Before I left though, while the mellow days have yearned to take over the plant kingdom, and all the active life goes into hibernation, I have picked, processed, dried, and prepared many feral foods and wildcraft teas, in order to milk what is left of this harvest :J:. A few foraging updates, the pawpaws (asimina triloba) finally came to ripeness on a small pondside edge, and I gathered about two big handfuls of these strange natives from the grasses beneath its foliage. The taste is reminiscent of a tropical banana cross with mango, yet they thrive in the southern Niagara and Hamilton escarpment with the right summer of course. I also filled a hemp sack full of gingko (gingko biloba) to make memory teas for the winter. Gingko nuts are also edible, but toxic if overdosed, so I have opted out of collect nuts this year. Gingko is one of those amazing trees that doesn’t appear everywhere like ash, maple and pine, but is a living fossil, and was around when mega-reptilian fauna/dinosaurs walked on this very planet. I feel the kind of awe about gingko as I do for redwoods, yew, or ceibas. Next to these two interesting allies, I was given a few kilos of white oak acorns from a friend, and some wild rosehips from the farm, with these I made a rosehip soup which is a very hygge meal from Sweden. The acorns on the other hand were processed down by my younger brother and I, dehusking with bare hands and teeth or in some cases a hammer and vice, I blended them afterwards and made a powder, they are ready to be leeched in a stream, and I will be making a coffee blend, and pancake mix with their protein rich powder.


Speaking of acorns, I was able to sample a lot of different acorn treats recently humbly gifted by the same friend who supplied the whole nuts, a fellow apothecary gardener with a knack for wild food crafting. Amongst them were acorn bread, acorn cake, fermented acorn bits, and more brewed acorns. We also shared some angel milk which is raw milk infused with angelica flowers, which gives it a floral taste and slight hue. Together we led a foraging workshop on the plot of land that belongs to my now ex-partner, where we looked at different roots, sassafras, spicebush, birch and ironwood, nettles, and lichens. This was my first time leading a formal plant walk, and is something I found great fulfillment in. Two nights ago I attended a workshop on ‘Eating Invasives’, plants that is, which was a particularly interesting talk about the edibility and use of non-native plants in our ecosystem. Some of these I already knew, like japanese knotweed, garlic mustard, nettles, and highbush cranberry, while others I was exposed to new knowledge, after the workshop there were some samples of asparagus, pawpaws, and micro greens. It was a fairly in depth look put on by two younger folks that knew their plants, so I felt pretty fitting there.


My own perennial plants and cactus had to come inside for awhile, so I’ll be overwintering one sapling haskap and a young cactus and hope they survive through the dark days. And just when things started to get a bit chaotic outdoors, I caved in and took a retreat slightly north for a cabin stay, where I spent a beautiful night at an airbnb with a friend, with all hygge aspects imported into the small space. There is something about cabins that makes us feel closer to nature, I love the organic aesthetic of the wooden walls, the acoustics, the intimacy, and the simplicity of wooden hand-built homes. So many dwellings in contemporary cities I find extremely boring and lacking creativity; well maybe with a few notable cities exempt, I’m thinking Copenhagen, Reykjavik and Bergen, ultimate hygge/koselig places to be. In the future I see myself coming home to my dream cabin, resting the skis outside against the logs, starting up a fire, watching the boughs of snow drop off the boreal trees, and settling up to my lover, and maybe a husky or a norwegian forest cat too.277E41E9-0D51-4CB3-A9F4-ECBD9DC47D20

My meditation practice leading up to this so far has been refined and regular, and I love making time in the day to set this priority for a time to just be, then just be in my precious solitude, in the lack of other company your own self is your fairest friend. Films make the evening pass more contently, though I’m not an avid watcher, this time of year makes for good passive enjoyment. I really liked Gringo Trails, which explores the impacts of tourists on culture and environments, and puts a new perspective to my own travels. I’ve also been diving back in to the Be Here Now book by Baba Ram Dass, this is very good spiritual literature.

In the last post I alluded to a trip I might be taking and this has come to be manifested for real now, and in the middle of November I am heading back to the coast of southern Oaxaca for my yoga teacher training, where I will live and breathe yoga for one month, spend my idle time in the ocean and getting naked sun time on the playa. I guess I am kind of a snowbird in that sense. During this time I will be taking some hiatus from constant posts here, and instead I am hauling my pastel blue brother typewriter down to mexico, and will enjoy some more personal writing in my private cabana nook. I shall be keeping my screen time to low minimalism. The moon will still turn, and I will star gaze at a different set of constellations for awhile, as the Mayan dogdays will reveal new plans for my future, until I return again and set up house in a new location, and maybe land myself a yoga teacher position for the winter in a studio after my training. The potentials are there, and the doorways are opening!