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Lessons from Squirrels
Squirrels can show us how to adapt to city life…but also how to be more in tune with our wild natures.
When I lived in Denver, I considered three special squirrels to be my “outdoor pets”. These were city squirrels that lived in our urban backyard.
Brown, sleek and wily, I watched as they darted around our yard as if it were their own. And, of course, it was.
The squirrels in Denver made a nest in our roof—with cotton pilfered from our patio chair cushions. They ate our tomatoes, stole our corn, and took big bites out of every single squash we grew.
Once, a squirrel hopped in the lettuce bed as I was weeding, looked me straight in the eye, wrapped its little arms around a giant leaf, took a single bite out the middle, and I swear it smiled as it stood there, waiting for my reaction.
They were so naughty and so cute. I loved them completely.
Over the years, I was able to build a relationship with these squirrels (despite needing to kick them out of their nest in the roof…). I could identify each one, and we came to a truce with the garden. It took two years, but they finally focused on eating 2-3 squash total and leaving the rest untouched.
I suppose I got used to squirrels that had adapted to the city, as I had. They would often leave slices of half eaten bread in our yard. They stole all sorts of cottons and fabrics for their nests. I rarely saw them gather anything that hadn’t been made or grown by a human.
The squirrels here are different.
Big and gray, with tails that rival those of a winter fox, these are not the ones I knew in the city. The squirrels I live with in Central Oregon are a bit more wild.
They keep their distance when I’m outside—hopefully trust will build over time—but I often watch them through our windows.
If city squirrels had a bit of tough, no-nonsense, street-smart vibe, these wild squirrels are brave yet cautious. I once saw one skillfully somersault just out of reach from a hunting hawk.
After years of living with city squirrels, I feel somewhat awed when I see a squirrel storing a pine cone for food, or gathering bunches of grass to prepare its winter nest.
This makes me ridiculously happy. Perhaps because it just seems so healthy.
No more cotton or white bread. Just the natural foods and materials that squirrels in the wild enjoy.
The Spirit Animal Workshop
A self-paced class to discover how to work with the spirit animals in your own life.
Like the squirrels, we humans adapt to our environments.
We use what’s around us to survive—for better or worse.
Yet, there’s deep inner sense of alignment I feel when I see a squirrel carrying a pine cone versus a tortilla (yes, it’s happened). And I wonder if getting a bit more back to our own wild roots would feel more in alignment for us humans, too.
Living with the seasons, sourcing local and wild foods, knowing your land. Every bit of rewilding we do on earth, rewilds our spirit as well.
As a spirit animal, squirrel is often said to carry the gift of preparation—gathering and storing sustenance throughout the summer and fall for the long winter ahead.
Perhaps in this way, the squirrels all around ask us to look at what it is we’re storing. Yes, preparation is good medicine. Filling our pantries can fill our souls. (And I think most of us are a bit more hyper aware of the need for preparation after the pandemic.)
Yet, let’s ask ourselves—what are we gathering? Is it food, materials, and even ideas that nourish us? Or have we been programmed to fill up on that which does not truly align with our souls?
We are currently in a potent time for releasing the old to make way for the new, with our seasonal winter fast approaching. How are you preparing for the season ahead?
If inspired, hold a small ritual or meditate on what is truly needed in your preparations this Samhain. What old programming can you let go of, and what resources will truly support you in the season ahead? Allow spirit and your own intuition to speak these answers to you.
What are squirrels like where you live? Let me know in the comments :)
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3 Simple Ways to Rewild Your Thanksgiving Table + A Wild Winter Recipe
Eating wild foods attunes our energy field and our DNA to the land we live on, and when done with reverence and gratitude, shows the spirits of the land that we don’t take our abundance for gratitude. It’s a way to nurture our relationship with place, open our hearts to mothering from our earth mother herself, and tend our wellbeing in physical and energetic realms.
Want to add a few wild bites to your Thanksgiving feasts this year? Here are a few simple wild foods available just about anywhere in the states:
Thanksgiving mythology tells us that this holiday marks a time when native peoples helped pilgrims survive by sharing the bounty of a new land with them.
Obviously, the actual history of the holiday is a lot more complicated and painful than this simple recounting—something I reflect on here—yet the ritual of pausing to honor and show gratitude for the abundant gifts of the earth is one I continue to love in the midst of a complex history.
One of my favorite ways to truly celebrate the abundance of the earth, as well as the ancestral spirits of the land, is to incorporate local, wild foods into our menu.
Eating wild foods attunes our energy field and our DNA to the land we live on, and when done with reverence and gratitude, shows the spirits of the land that we don’t take our abundance for gratitude. It’s a way to nurture our relationship with place, open our hearts to mothering from our earth mother herself, and tend our well-being in physical and energetic realms.
Want to add a few wild bites to your Thanksgiving feasts this year? Here are a few simple wild foods available just about anywhere in the States…
Wild Greens
If you’ve been following along here and have some wild greens infused vinegar on hand (usually made in the spring), use it to replace any other acids in your recipes. It’s great for brightening up butternut squash soup and mixing into wild salad dressings.
Depending on where you live, you might still be able to gather some wild hearty greens in your area…even your backyard! Mallow, dandelion, chickweed, and nettle can often be gathered in small quantities even after the first snow. Sprinkle a few greens on side salads or even stir them into stuffing—the mild flavor goes with everything.
Rosehips
Rosehips are best collected after a few frosts, which heightens their sweetness. If you gathered hips earlier in the autumn, great! If not, even wilty looking rosehips can be gathered and cooked into tart cranberry sauces or brewed as nutrient-rich teas. (Just be sure to remove the hairs and seeds first!)
Evergreens
Evergreens are an abundant winter wild food available almost everywhere. Rich in vitamin C and other phytonutrients, evergreen needles can be infused into butters and finishing salts for a fresh, herbaceous flavor, or brewed into healing teas.
Most evergreens are edible, so you don’t need to worry too much about identification here. The two exceptions (that I know of at least) are yew trees and ponderosa pines. There’s mixed messaging on the edibility of both, but general consensus is to steer clear to be safe. Firs, spruces, and most other pines are just fine!
Yews are easily identified by their distinctive orange-red berries—see below. But, the berries aren’t always in season, so if yews are in your area make a positive identification first!
The signature berry of the yew tree—one of the few non-edible evergreens.
Ponderosas can be a bit trickier. If you know you have ponderosas in your area, watch out for tall strong trees with large pinecones and extra long needles. Any time you use any wild food, please quadruple check your identification. And then triple check again.
A Fragrant & Festive Wild Tea
This tea is based around two wild ingredients—evergreen needles and rosehips. From there, you can get creative with all sorts of fragrant herbs and spices.
Ingredients
2 cups water
A handful, roughly chopped evergreen needles
One extra large handful of fresh rosehips, or a smaller handful dried (either leave whole or remove seeds and tiny hairs if chopping)
3-4 slices of fresh organic oranges
One cinnamon stick
2-3 stars of anise
Lemon and honey to taste
Directions
Place water and herbs in a pot and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat, stir in honey and lemon, and serve in festive mugs. Enjoy!
As always, whenever you’re working with wild foods, it’s wise to follow basic ethical and safety practices. In short, triple check your IDs and prioritize the health of the ecosystem above your own gathering needs.
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Simple Tricks to Add More Health-Boosting Herbs into Your Daily Routine
The Ancestral Convergence: Food & Ritual for Healing this Thanksgiving
Celebrating Samhain: Modern Rituals and Festivities for Connection and Protection
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The Ancestral Convergence: Food & Ritual for Healing this Thanksgiving
I recently saw yet another post about eating ancestral foods and working with ancestral plants on Instagram…
Eat the foods your ancestors ate. Return to the foods that enlivened your DNA throughout generations. Turn to the native plants of your ancestral lands.
This was the message.
On the one hand, I love it. This is something I teach in my Rewilding the Spirit course, having students do a bit of research and prepare a meal that their bloodline ancestors might have enjoyed.
Yet I also teach my students how to connect with their land ancestors—the local ancestors that are keepers of the land they live on now, in this lifetime. Ancestors with whom it’s equally important to partner. Here, we prepare and enjoy local, wild foods to attune our current DNA to the current land we live on.
Reading this post on ancestral foods so close to Thanksgiving here in the States got me thinking—what would an ancestral Thanksgiving meal actually look like?
I recently saw yet another post about eating ancestral foods and working with ancestral plants on Instagram…
Eat the foods your ancestors ate. Return to the foods that enlivened your DNA throughout generations. Turn to the native plants of your ancestral lands.
This was the message.
On the one hand, I love it. This is something I teach in my Rewilding the Spirit course, having students do a bit of research and prepare a meal that their bloodline ancestors might have enjoyed.
Yet I also teach my students how to connect with their land ancestors—the local ancestors that are keepers of the land they live on now, in this lifetime. Ancestors with whom it’s equally important to partner. Here, we prepare and enjoy local, wild foods to attune our current DNA to the current land we live on.
Reading this post on ancestral foods so close to Thanksgiving here in the States got me thinking—what would an ancestral Thanksgiving meal actually look like?
Would we turn to our recent American ancestors—those who cemented stuffing, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie into our collective consciousness?
Or perhaps we celebrate local abundance and honor the spirits of the land here, with wild rice and three sisters (squash, beans, and corn) themed cuisine? (An approach my family usually takes...)
Or maybe, as the post suggests, we travel further back to the native lands of our blood relatives.
I have to laugh as I think about what option three would look like…my Dutch, Irish, Swiss, French, and Welsh meeting Mike’s Italian and German heritage would create quite the menu!
And what if we tried to really incorporate all our ancestral influences? Pumpkin pie, wild rice, pickled herring, spaghetti and (vegan) meatballs…
As ridiculous as this image might seem, I actually love how clearly it demonstrates an important truth:
We are the convergence of many ancestral lines.
Ask yourself: What would a truly representative ancestral Thanksgiving dinner look like in your home?
A Thanksgiving Menu with Ancestral Cuisine
This year, Mike and I are having a quiet dinner…but still going all out on our menu, as I’m somewhat addicted to cooking.
Our menu tends to mix some traditional foods with some local ones, and I always try to add a bit of wild, foraged plants in the mix. As we’re both vegetarian and I’m gluten free, everything becomes an updated fancy-pants version of ancestral cuisine.
We’ll have a few dishes I make every year—butternut and wild rice salad, boozy spiced cranberry sauce, pumpkin bread rolls, and green beans. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, and gravy always make the menu as well. (You can find a few of my favorite recipes here!)
We often have a stuffed pumpkin for our main, but I’m changing it up this year with a sagey mushroom, chestnut, and walnut loaf. Fingers crossed it turns out!
Gratitude, Trauma, and a Complicated Time of Year
Thanksgiving has traditionally been a time to focus on gratitude. Yet, I think many of us are sensitive to the fact that this holiday brings up many challenges, as well…
For those who have lost loved ones—and so many have, especially in the past couple of years—Hallmark images of happy family holidays can feel like knives in the heart.
For those who experienced early childhood trauma, any holiday focused on family can heighten a complex array of difficult emotions, decisions, conversations, and more.
And, while Thanksgiving is still a time to reflect on all we’re grateful for, it’s also becoming more and more a time to reflect on the ancestral traumas that gave birth to this holiday. The very real scars on the peoples and lands who tended this earth before the arrival of settlers cannot be ignored.
These challenges are real and painful, and they can make it easy to slip into guilt and despair. They can even activate fear around even publicly celebrating this holiday.
Yet gratitude is one of the highest vibration states we can enter into. Gratitude shifts our energy and opens our heart. It fortifies our spiritual strength in trying times. It tells the earth and our loved ones that we appreciate all the gifts in our lives. It communicates our own true worth to our innermost selves.
What if we treated our Thanksgiving menus as opportunities for healing? What if we ritualized our feasts as vessels of ancestral reconciliation?
Rituals for Thanksgiving Healing
Rituals work because of the powerful confluence of intention and energy they create. Though seemingly magical, they are one of the most powerful ways I know of to create real, observable change in our lives.
Any major holiday is already charged with extra usable energy—generations of repeated intentions and actions have already ritualized these days.
This means that when we set the intention for our Thanksgiving dinners to become healing ceremonies, we really can impact our personal and collective energy in powerful ways.
Though the details of your personal rituals will look different depending on your intentions, a few pieces will be the same:
Set your intention for healing before you begin preparing your meal. Then hold this intention throughout the cooking process. See your love, gratitude, and desire for healing flow from your heart, into your hands, and into the food.
If possible, state your intentions out loud at your dinner table. Invite the others present to offer their intentions for healing, as well.
Affirm that as you consume the food laid before you, your body becomes an alchemical vessel of transformational healing. Just as your digestive system physically transmutes food into energy, the energy of intentions you’ve poured into the food alchemizes into healing.
Any and all healing intentions are welcome here. Trust your guidance. Here are a few suggestions depending on what might be alive for you in this moment:
For family gatherings that might trigger personal trauma or seemingly inevitable conflict, try infusing the food with the emotions you wish to cultivate more of—perhaps self-worth, protection, or family harmony.
For those who wish to honor loved ones across the veil, you may like to prepare their favorite dishes. Imagine the part of them that lives on in you getting to enjoy the meal through your physical vessel. Allow space for their physical absence to be named, and perhaps their spiritual presence to be welcomed.
If your heart is pulled toward all the people without healthy, hot meals at this time of year (or any, really), a beautiful practice here is to harness the energy of your own gratitude. Have everyone around your table feel a deep sense of gratitude for all the abundance you enjoy. Then imagine this abundance spreading to all beings. Visualize, with all the energy and focus you can harness, a world in which all people are fed. This practice might seem small, but it's a little bit of collective magic that really does spread blessings upon the ethers.
To contribute to our collective reconciliation around the traumas inflicted on native populations and the land here, learn about the traditional foods of the ancestors where you live. See if you can incorporate and celebrate these foods into a menu with your own traditional dishes. Set the intention that as your body harmonizes these foods, so harmony and reconciliation build in our collective. Focus on shifting guilt and judgment to love and visions of a better future for all who walk this land.
Please know, these practices aren’t meant to replace the very real-world actions needed to reconcile and heal a horrific legacy of colonization. Nor do they replace the self-healing and resourcing necessary to navigate complicated family legacies. (And for goodness sake, if hunger pulls on your heart be sure to donate to local food banks!)
My intention here is to help transform the underlying energy of our collective traumas so that we can create greater leaps in healing in the physical plane. Just as we tend our own well-being in mind, body, and spirit, we can tend our collective well-being through multiple modes and layers of healing.
An Invitation
This Thanksgiving, take some time to reflect on the many lineages that make up your ancestry. Feel into where healing is needed. Feel into where celebration is called for. And enjoy the sacred dimensions of the wild convergence that is you.
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