Turning the Old Soil
Welcome! If this is your first visit, I’m really glad you stopped by. No matter what brought you here or what you might be carrying, there’s a place for you at this table. Whether you’re a skeptic, a believer, or just curious, I'm happy to share this space with you. Since you’re already here, let me take a moment to share what I'm hoping to explore and why it means so much to me.
For nearly twenty years, this work has been brewing in my heart and mind. It began when I started homeschooling my son when he was just a little one. In those early days, I stumbled upon the ideas of Rudolf Steiner. I was struck by how he wove together teachings from various cultures and belief systems, creating something meaningful that could be shared with others. I’ve always admired people who have a broad understanding, who leap from one field to another because they see connections everywhere. While I don’t claim to have their depth, I wanted to carry a little bit of that light forward in my own way.
What you'll find in my writing reflects this journey. I delve into topics that span different eras and traditions, tracing roots from one culture to another, often uncovering surprising links between people who never realized they shared common thoughts. For instance, the blessing sung over a hearth in the Hebrides has a sibling in a biblical psalm, which itself connects to the way a farmer in the Carolina hills watches the clouds before planting. My mind tends to pick up on these connections like taking in a whole meadow from a porch view. I see my job as walking that field, exploring each row, so that others can see these interconnections too.
What I’m trying to gather is timeless wisdom—the kind that has supported us throughout history all the way into our present lives. My grandmother had a hoe by the back steps, its handle worn smooth in two spots where her hands gripped it. It may have come from the same feed store as everyone else's, but after years of using it in the same rows, it became uniquely hers. That’s how true wisdom is—shaped by experience. It’s not something that just shows up fully formed; it’s handed down through the struggles of life, shaped by the people who need it most. I want to share that wisdom with the same character still intact.
For a long time, this dream of sharing my thoughts sat tucked away in a drawer. I could picture it clearly, almost like a detailed almanac, but finding the time and the right words to bring it to life seemed impossible. It waited patiently for its moment to emerge. Now, with the tools we have today, a single page can reach farther in a morning than my grandmother’s letters did in a year.
I don’t believe that old and new knowledge need to be at odds. People have always used whatever means were available to pass on what they knew—whether it was clay tablets, parchment, printing presses, or now the screens we’re using. The old Gaelic storytellers preserved the tales and histories of their communities in their memories, sharing these stories from house to house during the long winter nights. While the way we communicate changes over time, what truly matters is what we choose to carry in those vessels and whether we keep the essence of the message intact.
Rainer Maria Rilke once envisioned us as the bees of the unseen world, gathering the visible and transforming it into something that might endure. I see this as part of what we all do: collecting stories, emotions, recipes, and lessons learned—things like the melodies our grandmothers sang while washing dishes. We decide what to carry forward, and that choice weighs heavily in our fast-paced world. Our children will inherit what we teach them to notice, and they’ll also see what we let slide by unnoticed. They’ll reap the fruits of the soil we’ve tended, and it’s vital to consider what we’re planting. Perhaps our real task is to strive to be more thoughtful ancestors, using today’s speed to dig deeper instead of just rushing forward.
Yet, it’s important to remember that a page of writing is never the same as the larger field itself. Everything I share here is merely a pointer towards something greater. The real work resides in our bodies, in the earth, in our relationships, and in the sacredness of simply being alive.
I want to express my gratitude, and I hope I can do it in a way that feels genuine rather than cliché. I owe so much to the teachers I’ve never met, whose books have filled my kitchen table over the years, and to the wise women in my family who imparted knowledge that can’t be found in any textbooks. I cherish the fact that this dream, which I had almost given up on, made it out of that drawer. Most importantly, I’m grateful for you, for taking the time to read this and for bringing your own thoughts and experiences as well. The journey is always richer when shared.
One day, those who come after us will dig through the ground we're tending now and uncover what we have planted and what we buried. I hope they find a woman who remained attentive, who kept reaching into the earth, always striving to turn it towards the light.
