Sacred Wild

We are not visitors to the wild. We are not separate from the soil, the moss, or the silvered wings of a moth spiraling toward moonlight. We are the wild. Our breath exchanges secrets with the leaves. Our bones whisper back to the limestone, remembering ancient oceans. This page is a practice of reunion—of listening to the old songs that ripple through the sinews of trees, the fur of creatures, the pulse of the earth itself.

Here, you’ll find stories that reawaken what your cells already know: that the fox weaving through twilight shadows, the crow cawing over brittle winter fields, the wind tugging at your hair—all of these are kin. To care for the earth, to tend to animals and trees, is to tend to ourselves. Every act of attention, every moment of reverence, is a sacred offering to the web that holds us.

Sacred Wild invites you to remember your place in this tangled, breathing world. To step lightly, to listen deeply, and to weave yourself back into the living story of this earth.

Come. The forest is calling. The rivers are waiting. Your wild self has always been here, ready to return.

Read About Ayahuasca~ The Vine that Calls Us Home Here

On Beauty

Why beauty? Because beauty reminds us of our aliveness. It is the bridge between the ordinary and the extraordinary, the way we connect to something deeper than ourselves. Beauty doesn’t ask for attention—it demands presence. It shapes our perceptions, softens the sharp edges of our lives, and calls us to pause, to notice.

In moments of beauty, we remember that we are not just observers but participants in a world that constantly offers us wonder. Beauty is the language the earth speaks, the quiet whisper urging us to lean in, to see with fresh eyes, and to realize that everything, even in its imperfection, belongs.

Bees~ Poets of the Air

The Song Beneath the World

Listening To The Garden

Just Bee

I fell in love with his green eyes and golden hair. He was a little round in the middle but that’s what you would expect for an Xylocopa varipuncta. That is the scientific name for the male valley carpenter bee that is delightfully known as the “teddy Bear Bee”. He appeared in my garden one day in June. I am certain he is male because he is large (about the size of a queen bumble bee), with a golden/buff-colored chubby body with green eyes. The females are black. Xylocopa varipuncta occurs in the Central Valley and Southern California, Arizona, New Mexico and southward through Mexico. Although I live in Southern California, I had never seen one before and I was immediately enchanted.

He bobbed around his favorite plants in the garden. It was a Texas Sage bush. He was also punctual, arriving every day around 6pm and staying for about an hour. Once I learned his schedule, I made sure to be in the garden, sitting on my little red bench that was conveniently positioned facing the Texas Sage.

I looked forward to hanging out with my new bee-buddy. He fascinated me. I think it was his color and his round barrel body. He was just plain cuteness. He wasn’t nicknamed the teddy bear bee by legendary entomologist Robbin Thorp for nothing.

I incorporated my time with the teddy bear bee every day. I tried to take photographs and video but he moved constantly. I gave up and just started enjoying his company.

By the time July arrived, I kept missing his visit and wondered if my timing was off. I mentioned my disappointment to my husband who knew about my fascination with Teddy the Bee. I made him sit on the bench for a Teddy encounter. My husband asked me what the lifespan was of a bubble bee and my heart sank. I had no idea, but I knew it wasn’t very long and that it was entirely possible that Teddy had died. I never saw Teddy again.

We have many relationships in this relational world. Some we never notice. I have other relationships in the garden. I interact with a few demanding scrub jays who expect a steady supply of peanuts. A mockingbird scolds me when I go near her territory in the back corner of the yard and I squawk back-a neighborhood squabble. I know a clumsy squirrel that I call Forrest Gump who will take peanuts from my hand but often falls off the wall. He may be a young'un and still finding his way in the world. They are all my teachers. They are "all my relations"

Teddy taught me to stop rushing around my garden doing work and just sit on a bench and be with a bee. I miss him.