Guten Tag, Reader,

One of us walks like a cartoon thief—knee high, toe first, then heel. Of course, he might also practice a Qi Gong movement. Called The Heron, perhaps?

Another walks with a sway while swinging a flappy spruce branch. “I watched my nephew do this last week,” she will share later, “and he looked so connected with his body that I wanted to try.”

Me? I walk as slowly as my brain will allow. Stopping to pull a fresh leaf to my cheek, smell each wild onion in a patch, and caress moss by the creek shore.

Without any shadow of a doubt (dried oak leaves cast delightfully doubtless shadows, by the way), any outsiders will dismiss us as weird (a compliment in my personal lexicon of attributes). But the toads, eagles, owls, bees, countless species of songbirds, and also the trees, shrubs, spring ephemerals, and, of course, the creek, they all get it. I imagine them delighted to see us slow down to the speed of the land (and if you shake your head at the notion of sentient plants, I invite you to check out the research of Suzanne Simmer and Monica Gagliano).

Who is this group of weirdos I refer to as “we”? Over the last few days, we’ve named ourselves “The Wild Onion Collective.” Previously, we were referred to as the 2025 ANFT IL Immersion. 22 nature and forest therapy guides completing our 230-hour training on a five-day retreat near Chicago.

Five days of liminality:

• suspended between before and after the profound experience
• wedged between wild and tame
• between the subconscious and the conscious
• between seasons (no longer winter, not yet summer)
• between “just met” and “deeply connected”
• ideas stalled between arising and fruition
• stories caught between their happening and their telling
• thoughts, emotions, encounters yet to be processed (for future joy letters, I promise)

I am writing this letter from the Chicago airport—a liminal, neither-here-nor-there space for travellers. I am not on my way home, though.

Or am I?

A plane will ferry me to Germany. A country that has two words for home: Heimat (= your soul home, the place that shaped you) and Zuhause (= your current home, the place you live).

From this in-between place, I bring you three invitations—each one powerfully steeped in wild onion tea and curiosity.

🧅 MIDLIFE MISCHIEF

Still a few spaces left in this free 4-week mini-course to spark your creativity and soothe your nervous system. No pressure. Just you, your wild ideas, and a sprinkle of rebellion. Email me to join—and tell your mischief-loving friends.

🌿 MOSS HOUR

Our next online forest therapy gathering is May 12. Yes, the practice works on Zoom (promise!). Sliding scale starts at $6, and all genders are welcome. More here.

🛶 wildHER

This 5-day Rogue River retreat still has five spots left. One past participant recently said, “The concurrent emotions of power and peace are still flowing through me.” If that speaks to your body or soul, claim your space now.

I will see you back here in two weeks. If you liked this letter, please forward it to a friend.

Always on your side, truly,

p.s. If you got something from today's letter, why not buy me a coffee? I am keeping my writing AI-free, which means a lot of creative goes into it. You can leave me a tip here.