Dear Friend,

It's cold here where my partner, Kristine Hill, and I live near the River That Runs Both Ways, commonly known as the Hudson River, on Mohican lands north of NYC.  We've put a bag of salt next to the door, 'cuz it's probably going to snow this weekend, and have plenty of herbal teas, cozy blankets, and chocolate for hot cocoa. 

Krissy's a member of the Beaver Clan, one of several clans of the Tuscarora Nation, Haudenosaunee Confederacy. In the winter, beavers go into their lodges.  So sometimes she says that this is "lodge time." We both enjoy "lodging.” 

In her people's traditional and contemporary practices, winter is the time for storytelling. There are many stories - so many stories! - to tell while the wind blows bitter and fierce outside. Funny stories and family stories. Traditional stories about Creation. Stories about the Peacemaker.

These are stories that include talking animals and seemingly impossible feats.

In modern/default culture, the culture that I'm from, stories about animals, especially animals that can talk, are designated into the category of "children's stories."

In a culture that disregards the importance of children, this is akin to saying that those kinds of stories are the ones that don't matter.

Myself, I held fast to the walking trees and talking beasts for as long as I could, but I too came to see them as "frivolous", "kids stuff", and the kind of thing mature, serious adults cast aside in order to do the "important work" to "make a difference" in a climate-changing, socially distraught, deeply wounded world.

I'm pretty sure that when my ancestors first heard the stories of the Haudenosaunee People, back in the 1600s, they referred to these stories as "childish", as well as a lot of other demeaning terminologies. A woman falls out of a hole in the sky? Ridiculous! A man became so corrupted by violence that he had snakes in his hair? Hah! A hero who listened to his dreams, encouraged women to seek out animals to be guides for their families, and who had no interest in himself becoming a king? Whatever.

I'm pretty sure that they thought their own set of stories was far, far superior. That assumption explains a great deal of what happened next. 

And yet in the stories still told in winter gatherings live a set of ethics, values, and teachings about how humans can relate with one another.

In these stories dwells that word that I like to throw around so often: cosmovisions. Sometimes known as worldviews. Those underlying embodied-mind frameworks that shapes how we engage with other humans and the more-than-human world. The ethics from which structures arise. 

Structures through which adults answer questions such as: 'How we make collective decisions about our common home'. Also known as "governance".

aka: serious things. Very, very serious things.

(And you don't have to be a talented soothsayer to predict that 2024 is going to have a lot of conversations about governance.)

If you've been following these emails for a while, you've heard me talk before about how Western democracy comes, in part, from the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. And you might have heard me relate how my ancestors and Krissy's ancestors both played a role in that. We like to say that we are carrying on conversations that our ancestors started.

By carrying on, I don't mean that we are creating new institutional structures. (Though many of my clients are.) I mean, delving a bit deeper into the cosmovisions that my ancestors basically ignored.  And as we do so, I've gone far deeper into these stories.The further I've gone, the more I've realized that my earlier so-called "adult" assumption that stories about talking animals are "just for kids" is, simply, false.  These stories are not just for kids.

We call some of this work getting into "What Lies Beneath". Hence the name of our upcoming class.

What lies beneath entails delving into stories - sometimes referred to as myths. I'm happy to use that term so long as we recognize that myths can be far more true than a lot of other versions of storytelling. These stories are part of a cosmovision. That cosmovision, in turn, created structures of governance that prioritize peace, the feminine, the earth, and collective well-being in ways that contemporary versions of democracy continue to sorely lack.

We ran our first version of this class in 2022. Participants loved it. Honestly, they loved it more than I thought they would.

And so we are launching it again in just a few weeks. 

Our next informational webinar about the class is right around the corner: this coming Tuesday, Jan 9, 1pm.

Please do join us. The informational webinar is not a lecture. There’s no powerpoint. We do a circle of sharing.  It will be recorded, so anyone who signs up can listen to the recording as well. (The webinar is not required for participating in the class.)  The last time we did one, everyone loved the session. Which I thought was pretty cool - how often do you go to an informational webinar and come out with a really great feeling about the webinar itself, even before going further into the class? 

This winter time, why not give yourself permission to engage with some deep-myth stories?

You might recognize how some of the stories begin: there was a time before this time, far from here but also very close by…

Pull up your blankets. Cozy up.  Listen...for What lies beneath.

Because these kinds of stories are not just for children. Though they are also for children.  This is serious stuff.

We can be serious, have a good laugh, and be cozy, all at the same time. 

We hope to see you soon.

Sara Jolena and Kristine

Here's the link to register for the webinar.