new moon in january
It’s winter in West Sonoma County, which means everything is green. Most week days I’m called into town –– a 25 minute drive from my little home in the woods. To get there I pass through misty redwoods that clear out to verdant green pastures that hug the coastline. The green of the land this time of year takes my breath away.
I originally came to West County for a boy, but I’ve stayed for the land and community. I’ve joked to friends that I’m not sure if I was in love with him, or in love with the land. The truth is that it’s impossible to tease out the two. He was a true person of place. His hands, callused, tanned, and scarred, told stories of adventure and simple living. There was a wildness to him, and a wildness to this place that called me to it.
This morning as I prepared a fire for my wood burning stove (the only source of heat in my home aside from my emergency suburban-gal propane heater) I thought of him again, smiling with quiet joy as I split pieces of wood into kindling with my ax. I used to watch him split wood that way by hand, with admiration and envy –– a small example of the hand skills that come with living out here.
There is so much satisfaction to be had in these everyday tasks that can now be tended to in most places with the click of a button. I think perhaps that’s why people find backpacking, even car-camping so thrilling. Something as simple as boiling water becomes embedded with so much more intentionality, mindfulness, gratitude, and awe.
My siblings often (lovingly) give me a hard time for being some kind of weird pagan forest witch (I am). It’s true, I do wish hooded cloaks were still in vogue, but my apparent longing for times of ol’ is really not about that. It’s not about escaping into a fantasized past (that honestly sucked in many ways –– cue untreatable STD’s, the feudal system, public torture …. no thank you). It’s about longing for a way life that feels reciprocal and not extractive –– a way of being in relationship to land and animals that I believe each of our ancestors, if we reach back far enough, knew how to practice. They may or may not have been (but like, probably were) wearing cloaks.
All that to say, as I write my first newsletter of the Gregorian year, I’ve been thinking about the ways I’d like my writing to inspire a remembering of my ancestors ways of living, through cooking, making, stargazing, storytelling, and yes, telling jokes too.
My aspiration is to write these monthly, sharing them with you around the New Moon (this month’s New Moon is on Thursday, January 10th). As always, I love hearing if/how these newsletter’s impact you. Thank you for reading!
With love,
Lily
nourishment
“Steady as an Oak Tree” Winter Root Tea:
When I was on a meditation retreat in France, there was a beautiful Grandmother Oak tree I would visit when I was struggling. I would wrap my arms around her, feel her steadiness, and pray that I could feel that way too. This tea recipes features some of winter’s most grounding roots, like burdock, dandelion, and astragalus. Slowly putting the herbs together, and preparing them on the stove feels like part of the medicine too. Enjoy!
Ingredients:
5 parts burdock root
3 parts dandelion root
3 parts fenugreek seeds
2.5 parts ashwagandha
2 parts astragalus
2 parts cinnamon (optional)
1 part reishi or chaga mushrooms (optional)
Fresh ginger, grated (optional)
Preparation:
Combine 3 tablespoons herbs and 4 cups water in a lidded saucepan. Slowly bring to a simmer. Simmer for 20 to 60 minutes or longer. The longer you decoct the tea, the more potent the tea becomes and the more water you need to add to the pot along the way. If it tastes too strong, feel free to mellow out the flavor by adding more water to taste.
music
My beloved friend and fellow West County witch, Nina Kravetz, has been working on putting together her first album, and I couldn’t be more excited and proud for her! I’ve had the tremendous privilege of casually laying ear to some of the songs on this album, and it’s pure magic. If you believe in bone-deep, place-based music, please give Nina a follow, and consider donating to her fundraising campaign.
Also, Adrienne Lenker’s new single Ruined…
humor
My favorite kind of joke these days is agrarian. So here to kick us off…
Why do cows have hooves and not feet?
Because they lactose.
poetry
Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does it End?
There are things you can’t reach. But
you can reach out to them, and all day long.
The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of God.
And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier.
The snake slides away; the fish jumps, like a little lily,
out of the water and back in; the goldfinches sing
from the unreachable top of the tree.
I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.
Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around
as though with your arms open.
And thinking: maybe something will come, some
shining coil of wind,
or a few leaves from any old tree–
they are all in this too.
And now I will tell you the truth.
Everything in the world
comes.
At least, closer.
And, cordially.
Like the nibbling, tinsel-eyed fish; the unlooping snake.
Like goldfinches, little dolls of goldfluttering around the corner of the sky
of God, the blue air.
Mary Oliver