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Photo by Denys Argyriou on Unsplash

This article was originally published as a newsletter to my direct audience, but I received special requests from that beloved group to publish it to medium.com to share it more widely. This is a next-day response to the January 6, 2021 riots at the U.S. Capitol. It does NOT contain any graphics or graphic detail of that day.

“I’m just gobsmacked!” read a text that came all the way from Amsterdam to interrupt the relative calm of my work day yesterday. My friend was watching U.S. news from the other side of the world and wanted me to know what…


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Photo by Dmitriy Karfagenskiy on Unsplash

“In the pictures you can see Craig Gibsone, our feral elder, cutting the ribbon,” wrote Britta Schmitz on the Instagram page of The Findhorn Foundation in November, 2020. I read that post and immediately texted my friend Gayle: “I have a new life goal: feral eldership.” This is for Gayle.

To become an elder is not to simply grow old, but to grow in wisdom and experience. To become an elder, one must first become an adult, a rite of passage that many in their 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s have never truly completed. …


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Photo by Evan Dvorkin on Unsplash

You are sturdy. Grass, no matter what I do, you come back. You sneak out from under six inches of cardboard and wood mulch. You spring up through the cracks between bricks I’ve weighed down upon you. You have held down this soil for decades, without complaint. You fill in every space. Why do I want to eradicate you, something so strong and determined? I claim you are the wrong thing. You cultivate a bacterial soil culture, and I want mycelial. You are shallow, and I want deep. I can’t eat you; I want what I can eat. You are…


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Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

Existential lostness. That’s what my counseling clients, and sometimes my friends, have been describing since we began to navigate the new direction presented by COVID-19. I’ve felt it myself. Days blend into one another and seem eerily the same. Places where we previously attached meaning seem suddenly devoid of it. We don’t know when we’ll hug our loved ones again, assuming they (or we) even survive the ordeal. We’re not sure where our support is coming from, if it’s coming at all. We’re not sure if we’re utterly lost, or if we’re witnessing the birth of a desirable new reality.


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“My emotions are up and down like the stock market,” a friend told me this week. I can relate! All of our normal social routines are interrupted, many of the things we once thought were reliable have shifted, people are ill or dying in a sudden and unexpected way, and we don’t know when (if) things will stabilize or when the path will become clear.

I could be talking about any meditation retreat, ever.

When you go on a serious meditation retreat, you shed your skin. You leave behind the everyday routine, put yourself on lockdown and just sit with…


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Photo by Rebeca G. Sendroiu on Unsplash

In my early 20’s, I volunteered on a Biodynamic farm in Germany. I was there alongside several other young Americans. The farmer, a kind middle-aged Dutch man, taught us how to use old-fashioned hand tools such a small human-drawn plow. We worked slowly and peacefully. We sat for hours tediously laying mesh over pea sprouts for reasons I no longer remember. We planted row after row of potatoes. We determined that the old-fashioned methods were profoundly inefficient. We were Americans! We could help to improve, modernize, and streamline the process, making it more profitable and better all around!

Our experienced…


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Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

The thing that nobody tells you about grey hair is that it grows in different directions than the rest of your hair. As if to say, “In my mature years, I can no longer afford to simply play by the rules. I must be my own self and go my own way. I must become a bit feral,” your hair takes a new and unexpected path.

My hair is curly type 3A, which means I have large, loose curls and it’s very obvious when one goes rogue. There will be a nice, tight, shiny brown curl and from its depths…


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Photo © 2018 Robert Herhsinow

If you’re involved in personal growth or healing work, you’re almost guaranteed to encounter techniques for how to “manifest your dreams” or “manifest your intentions.” You’ve probably tried some of them, and if you’re like most people you’ve had mixed results.

If you’re fully steeped in the rhetoric of The Secret and other positive-thinking methods of manifestation, you probably thought it was your own damn fault when you focused really super duper hard on something you wanted and it just didn’t turn out the way your vision board said it would. …


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Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

I was recently invited to attend a Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion telesummit. The subject matter was compelling. The lineup of speakers piqued my interest. I missed it, however, because it failed to include my diversity with equity: the summit fell in the middle of the Jewish High Holy Days, and I happen to be a practicing Jew.

On Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, when even the most secular Jews often attend synagogue to fast and pray, the summit planned to examine, “Actionable strategies you can bring to your organization to grow a culture of belonging.” …


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Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash

Trigger warning: this poem examines societal experiences of and reflections on rape. It includes graphic imagery.

The original formatting of this poem is limited by Medium.com’s platform

I saw a show, once: a woman told a story. She told of how she was raped after a company party. By a coworker. She lay limp. She didn’t know she could say “no.” She didn’t know. Later, she came to call the experience “rape.” She just didn’t know. She just didn’t no.

I saw another show, once: another story. This woman was lying in bed, asleep, at home, alone. A man knocked…

Jeanell Innerarity

is musing about modern life https://www.EcoSpiritualEducation.com

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