Life doesn’t always keep up with the pace of the story we’re trying to tell about ourselves.Read More
This is feral Mishigamaa, formed by glaciers, volcanoes, storms and floods, bleeding out its age in copper, iron and limonite. This is the land where wolves roam the frozen lake in winter, and migrated birds return within hours of the melt. This is where the Mamaceqtaw speared salmon by torchlight, the Ojibwe recorded their dreams on birch scrolls, and the ghosts of the Mishinimaki still dance in their snowshoes.Read More
Money grows on trees up here in the U.P., though it takes some education to spot it.Read More
Bryan builds a fire the way ranchers herd cattle, the way generals study a map, the way God created the earth.Read More
At a recent party, Chris read my archetype and, as he often does, elaborated on it out of his own intuition. He offered caution about too much motion fostering an inability to settle on something when the right something arose.
The word didn't sound the way it used to. To my ears, it sounded like a loanword from a more comprehensive language, like an Inuit term for snow or a German term for sadness. For the first time, I didn't hear "settle" and think of concession, resignation, or inertial sinking into the earth.
Instead, I thought of the Keweenaw.