Wednesday, October 31

12-2 at Wanderland Rainforest Iseum

“May you be like the moon; Undone and remade a thousand times; Always returning home to your opening heart. “(L.Sixfingers)

In the forest, Earth is changing. Waters are singing. Alder leaves drift in the wind and pattern the damp earth. Darkness and cold increase and the green force dies back as the strength of all that is returns to its inner source. We, too, return to our core, listening deeply.

“Hallows” means threshing floor, where the wheat was separated from the chaff, where we let go of what is no longer needed for our growth.  Something dies. Something new begins. For the Celts, this Holy Day was the Shining Portal of Winter and marked the passage into the New Year.

This Ceremony, led by Gwendolyn Endicott, includes myth, story, ritual, and time for reflection.   For more information on Wanderland Rainforest Iseum see wanderlandrainforest.org . Questions: gwendolyn@nehalemtel.net

There is no charge for this ceremony. However, suggested donations of $10-$20 are greatly appreciated to help with the maintenance of the Rainforest Sanctuary.

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At Wanderland Rainforest Iseum


“In the process of soul making, we can visit our depths over and over, and with each turn of the spiral, gain deeper wisdom and peace.” Hallie Austin

At Autumn Equinox, day and night are once again equal—for a moment balanced—but we can feel the winds of change as we travel into the dark cycle of the year. This ceremony, led by gwendolyn Endicott, will focus on finding balance within the dance of polarities.

In a time when the meaning of Truth and Justice have become blurred, we will dwell with the ancient Egyptian goddess, Ma’at, Guardian of the Justice and Truth of the Universe. Ma’at leads us to the understanding that “…the oldest meaning of Truth is Balance and it is called by the name of Earth: maat, matter, mother. Our ancestors knew that in her cycles and systems, Earth teaches us of balance in change. In Egyptian mythology “seeing” this balance was the basis of wisdom.  The mother syllable “ma” meant “to see”; in hieroglyphics, it was an eye.” (THE SPINNING WHEEL, Gwendolyn Endicott)

Ma’at does not promise that there will be no darkness. She provides the vision to “see” while traveling through the darkness. Truth and Kindness are  Her compass on this journey.

Ceremony begins at noon. Come a bit early rather than late. There is no charge but donations for the maintenance of the forest sanctuary are greatly appreciated.  Questions: Gwendolyn@nehalemtel.net or 503-368-6389



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At Wanderland Rainforest Iseum

At Lammas, the Earth comes into fruit and flower. Abundance surrounds us, but there is still work to be done. What will we harvest from our labors? This ceremony, led by Gwendolyn Endicott, focuses on “Tending the Creative Fire.”

“If you are not outraged, you are not paying attention,” Bumper Sticker Wisdom informs us. But how do we transform anger into creative action? Using myth, story, and ritual we will look at where our passionate energy is focused; how we feed our creative fire; and the tools that we carry.

For more information 503-368-6389 or gwendolyn@nehalemtel.net; for information about Wanderland see wanderlandrainforest.org  There is no charge for the ceremony, but donations toward the maintenance of the rainforest sanctuary are appreciated.  The ceremony begins at noon.


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Do you know Oswald West State Park? a place of pristine beauty on the North Oregon Coast where you can still glimpse old growth trees, a clear running stream, and a beach, “Short Sands,”treasured by surfers and tourists—people, children, and dogs.

Did you know that its neighbor up the hill plans to spray a toxic poison by air adjacent to a stream that runs through the park “sometime” in the next few months.  They can’t say exactly when this will happen because weather conditions are so unpredictable—wind, rain, fog, temperature inversions…. It’s a tricky business. Those of us who live on the coast can verify that, yes, earth, air, and water all move– especially downhill.

But Perhaps it would not matter if they let people know ahead of time, anyway, because  according to the packaging  the herbicide, Indaziflam, “has a high potential for reaching surface water via runoff for several months or more after application. “  They need to spray, they say, because they are a tree farm and need to make money.  This is a BIG neighbor, Weyerhaeuser, the largest private owner of timberland in the U. S. (12.4 million acres).

Although the packaging  does read: “toxic to fish, aquatic vertebrates, and plants…” “Human health hazard: Organ damage. Specific target organ toxicity,” they will tell you that what they are doing is legal– for they are following the guidelines of the Oregon Forest Practices Act, the weakest forest protection act on the West Coast.

If this concerns you, contact ODF, ODA, Weyerhaeuser, and your State Legislatures : Ask what is being done to protect the people, children, dogs, and wild life from the toxic spraying above  Oswald State Park.

Oregon Department of Forestry:  Peter Daugherty , state forester, 503-945-7211;

MeganDEHNLE@ oregon.gov

Dale Mitchell, Oregon Department of Agriculture, pesticide complaints—pestxodaState.or.us

Senator Michael Dembrow, Chair Senate Committee on Environment and Natural Resource,  Sen.Michael Dembrow@oregonlegislature.gov; Senator Betsy Johnson Sen.BetsyJohnson@oregonlegislature.gov

Weyerhaeuser Timber1-800-525-5440


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I have always had a creek in my life. It seems like a soul necessity. Everyday life then becomes woven with the life of the creek and conversations are interspersed with creek references: “the creek is high,” or “let’s go down to the creek” or “the salmon are running.”  When I was a child, the creek in my life was “the Old House Creek” on my grandfather’s land.  I can still remember how it smelled– the sweetness of Cottonwoods and the damp green smell of fish.  It amuses me how creeks get their names—bits of history fixed in time. That creek was, of course, named after an old house that used to be there, but no one I knew could actually remember seeing it.

For the past 30 years I have lived with a creek in the Upper Nehalem Watershed called West Coal Creek because of the shiny bits of coal that were found among the cobble. At one time, in the early thirties, there was speculation about developing a coal mine on the main stem of Coal Creek to fuel the logging trains that were then hauling huge old growth trees out of the Coal Creek Valley.

When I first started walking along the creek, I made a trail along its edge. In the spring, a proliferation of wildflowers—yellow violets, lily of the valley, trillium, bugbane grew along the bank. Alder and large conifer lined the creek, some 2 or 3 feet in diameter.  Often I would see schools of cut throat trout, multitudes of crawdads, and, in the spring and fall, runs of coho and chum salmon.   The creek was alive but always changing.

In the past few years as the clear cuts in the hills above me increase leaving nothing to absorb the rain and slow the flow of water, the velocity of the water rushing through my land has also increased. The wildflower banks disappeared; next the trees near the stream were uprooted; more banks disappeared.  A yurt we optimistically put creekside had a fifteen foot buffer; this year we closed off the entrance path which is now straight over the edge and a ten foot drop.  One section of the creek simply blew out from the force and the debris.  It became a standing, brown lake in high water. In low water, large islands of silt were formed.

The coastal watersheds are very soft and erosion is part of the natural change we live with. Still as I have walked the creek these last few years and witnessed the erosion and siltation, I have also witnessed the disappearance of life.  I have not seen crawdads for several years; there are no more schools of cut throat trout; this year, I saw no salmon.  The fine gravel of their spawning beds is covered in silt. The silt and debris, of course, travel on down to the Nehalem and people have discussions about what can be done about a river filling with silt.




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