This reflection and guided wander weave together a story of unexpected insight and a simple, embodied practice for grounding. Beginning with an image of cows as “walking mountains,” the piece explores how steadiness and aliveness can coexist—especially in seasons of change like May. The accompanying Walking Mountain wander invites a direct, body-based experience of that energy through mindful walking, breath, and connection with the earth.

Rooted in somatic practice and nature-based mindfulness, this offering supports nervous system regulation, emotional integration, and a deeper relationship with the more-than-human world. Ideal for moments of overwhelm, transition, or creative renewal, it offers both reflection and practice as a way to slow down, listen, and embody a quiet, resilient presence.

Explore kinship, reciprocity, and connection with the Earth. A reflective Earth Day piece with a simple practice to embody belonging.

A reflective Spring Equinox piece on choosing what to nurture, exploring discernment, longing, and how to tend what truly wants to grow. A guided spring wander will help you listen for which longing is ready to be nurtured, and choose what to tend with care in the season ahead.

Explore Imbolc as a seasonal threshold, an earth-based reflection on Celtic cross-quarter days, becoming, and the return of light.

Winter invites us inward. In the quieter, darker months, life below the surface continues—roots strengthen, seeds rest, and unseen transformation begins. The slow dark of winter asks for a pause, a softening of attention, and careful listening for a longing within that wants to be held in the dark—something tender, emerging, not yet ready for the light. This seed asks only for rest, acknowledgement, and gentle tending—so that when spring arrives, growth becomes possible.

Winter darkness calls for walking the spiral and entering the slow inward journey that invites presence, stillness, and rest. During a Wild Church gathering, a conversation about solstice included someone sharing delight in every moment of daylight. A quiet response arose for me: I crave darkness, each moment of darkness is cherished. Such a response was not always there, over the past five years a different relationship with darkness has been cultivated—one rooted in trust, love, and reverence. The dark has become a place of gentle holding, where the world softens, listening deepens, breath flows more freely, and spaciousness becomes available.

Solstice feels like a threshold into winter—the season of long nights, release, rest, stillness, and listening. Across the land, gardens, trees, and animals enter dormancy, carrying ancient knowledge of seasonal cycles. Plants die back, while seeds and bulbs settle into the soil to wait. Life, death, and rebirth are visible teachers during this time.

Here is a spiritual practice to pull you deeper into the dark that Solstice offers.

Winter is here. The cold deepens each day, puddles laced with ice, frost tracing the way down the mountains and stretching toward the valley floor. Even as the chill settles in, I live with the privilege of a heated home—a place where I can step out of the cold whenever I need to.

What I notice more than the temperature, though, is the darkness. Mornings arrive without light, and night seems to slip in by mid-afternoon. As we move closer to the solstice—the celebration of the longest night—there is a cultural pull to push the dark away: to celebrate the returning light, to cover our homes in Christmas lights that brighten the gloom and make winter feel more cheerful. Darkness becomes a problem to fix, something to resist or banish. Thoughts, a poem or two and a sacred practice for you to settle into the darkness.

Discover a gentle practice that invites you to wander in nature, listen to the land, and reconnect with your more-than-human ancestors through mindful presence and gratitude.

This week is Samhain (pronounced sow-win), which marks a turning point on the Celtic Wheel of the Year — is a time to celebrate the end of the harvest season, welcoming the dark half of the year and honour our ancestors. The Celts recognized that this is a time when the veils between worlds grow thin and connection with our ancestors comes more easily….

Each year, September 30 marks the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.

The day honours the children who never returned home and Survivors of residential schools, as well as their families and communities. Public commemoration of the tragic and painful history and ongoing impacts of residential schools is a vital component of the reconciliation process.

There are a few things you can do to honour this day and events you can be part of.

World Rivers Day, celebrated each year on the fourth Sunday of September, is a global event that shines a spotlight on the vital importance of rivers.

Rivers are the lifeblood of our planet. They nourish ecosystems, sustain communities, and carry the stories of cultures that have flourished along their banks for millennia. From providing clean drinking water and fertile soil to offering spiritual inspiration and recreation, rivers connect us all in countless ways. Yet, they also face mounting pressures—from pollution and climate change to overuse and habitat destruction.

A spiritual practice of wandering with the Holy Wild. As you enter into your wandering in the Holy Wild, begin by setting an intention: to notice the abundance the earth is offering.

This year I planted my first garden in a couple of years—just a few tomato plants, some herbs, and flowers. I planted late, expecting a smaller and slower harvest, but I was only half right. The tomato vines are heavy with fruit, spilling over the garden bed as the green globes pull the vines toward the earth.

We have a Book Group usually twice a year. In the Fall we read Sacred Nature by Karen Armstrong and right now we are reading Collisions of Earth and Sky By Heidi Barr. We have such good conversations with book group and that is definitely happening with this book. Here is the reading schedule and the questions for our book group.

The trees have shed their colorful autumn robes.

Winter is raging through the dark, empty branches

and I am listening.

Join us as we engage on a daily pilgrimage through the season of Lent. In the Christian tradition, Lent is a season of reflection and finding strength within. Through this series of daily questions, we will go deeper into ourselves and our souls. Grab your journal and let’s do this!

Although we are in early spring with Imbolc marking this change February 1st, we are still in the season of rest. Imagine being a seed nestled in the soil, this time is the space between resting and sprouting, this is a time of stirring, of transition, of dreaming of growing into bud then blossom.