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Summer building season in the Arctic is almost here! A few weeks ago, Sean and I were busy with prep. Here’s the process, step by step: STEP 1: Decide what to do this summer, make a materials list, order and schedule the delivery in time before breakup happens (we NAILED the timing this year). Written plainly, it seems so simple. But this step takes HOURS upon hours. I draw out all our build plans on an iPad with an Apple Pencil, which is a super duper upgrade from our first cabins that Sean drew on paper plates. I've been asked if I learned somewhere where to draw plans for the stuff we build, and I guess my answer is yes / and no. Yes, because I learned from what Sean learned that first year... and we've bought different plans for inspiration in the past for previous projects. But the actual "how to" of the drawing part? No. All self-taught. And I didn't even take art class in high school! STEP 2: Prepare a “nest” for the materials to live on until it’s dry enough to build. This involved Sean driving over this little piece of our property over and over and over and - you get the idea. We stomped it with snowshoes, and then drove over it again. All we can do is hope for the best that we made a "flat" spot so the material piles don't fall over. And if you've ever seen Arctic Hive before, you know that a "flat spot" is hard to come by! Small price to pay, I guess, for the epic views that you get on a hillside!  STEP 3: Meet delivery truck and offload 7,000 lbs of materials to the side of our parking area in the village. We are a remote retreat center and commute a mile from Arctic Hive to the village, so every single item needs to be brought up piece by piece. Luckily, we're smart now... and snowmachine our materials in months before build season. But our first year? We started our build in the summer, and we hadn't snowmachined in our materials. Needless to say, the Igloo and 3 original cabins were hand hauled without a machine piece by piece, from the bottom of our hill. Whew!  We haul things up behind the snowmachine on this red Siglin freight sled, which rides super easily over all sorts of terrain. Each trip is only as good as our rachet strap job. If we make it all the way to Arctic Hive without things slipping off, we've done it right! Fun fact: You might notice that we don't call it a snowmobile — it's primarily because they're used here in Alaska more often for utility reasons... we aren't tearing it up on our sleds every day for recreation... we use them as machines - for work. Thus, snowMACHINE. If you show up and call it a snowmobile, any Alaskan will know you're from the lower 48. It took me many months to break my own midwest habit of saying snowmobile. And another fun fact - they are often called sno-go in rural Alaska and the arctic.  STEP 4: Snowmachine in one load at a time. I think this took us 15-20 loads. The process went surprisingly well this time, and we often worked late into the night when the trail was hard packed, versus in the heat of the day when the snow was getting more slushy. Lots of late nights, and balancing this with feeding and tending to our retreat guests who were with us through the month of April. It was ONLY our final load, late one night, where a bunch of materials finally slipped off our sled because the rachet strap job got sloppy. The LAST LOAD! Just another reminder that the minute you let your guard down, you have to clean up your own mess.  STEP 5: Offload and stack the materials in an orderly way on top of the snow, elevated by treated beams to preserve the wood… and try as best we can to make a flat surface so that as the snow melts, the piles don’t completely topple over. Then we tarp it all. We’ve only had to restack a few times due to snow melting under the stack. STEP 6: We wait. We watch the snow melt and the creeks and rivers flow. We dream up timelines and more detailed plans. We acquire other materials and try to foresee the future in this new world of difficult access to certain things. For example: Wood stoves and oil drip stoves aren’t something we can always get when we want them. We need to be ahead of the game and order these things ahead of time so we can time the delivery with when we’ll need it. We learned this the hard way with The 8x10 guide cabin we built last fall… it took over 6 months from the time we ordered the little stove to when it was installed. Thank you COVID, inflation, shipping delays, etc. It all turned out in the end, but we always try to learn from our past “snafus” to prevent headaches in the future!
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The light has returned! Our solar panels are happy as can be, soaking up the power that makes Arctic Hive buzz. Late March/April in the arctic means it doesn't get dark till past 10pm, as we gain roughly 12 minutes of daylight each day. The wood peckers are knocking on the cedar shakes pre-6 am, and when we're not mushing, the dogs can be found lounging on the snow in front of their boxes, basking in the sun. This is the best time to get all that sun AND the Northern Lights dancing overhead at night. And then... ahhhh, that feeling when you see snow falling again after a few weeks of spring-like weather. (Did you just cringe?!) While we're getting stoked up here because we love snow and winter, I know some of you look outside in horror! “No no no no NOOOOO!” How dare Mother Nature tease us?! Having lived in cold climates my whole life, these days always make me laugh. The sorrow that bleeds through social media is hilarious. You’d think everyone would learn to expect this… but once we’ve had a taste of spring, it’s hard to acknowledge where we just came from, isn’t it?  So as I sat a few days ago, watching big, white flakes fall on our land covered in snow that's been compressing in the sunshine for the past few weeks here in Alaska, I wanted to share with you what days like this mean to me. (And how I cope!) I believe the seasons are a mirror for us. They’re the blueprints that guide the construction of our life, year after year. When spring has sprung, we do all the things to clean house and soak up that sunshine we’ve been missing. Seemingly overnight, the big box stores shift their snow shovel display to gardening tools. What was once an aisle of salt, sand and boot trays is now patio pillows, outdoor umbrellas and lawn ornaments. The ads you get scrolling on social reflect this mood, too. Without even realizing it, the world around us seems to sync up with our heart — we feel validated and refreshed. There is a light at the end of this long, dark winter tunnel!  But alas… winter rears its head again and we get pulled back into our season of rest and darkness. Winter, by nature, is a time of reflection and snuggling up with our intentions. We can choose to carve out the time and space to examine what needs tending, and nourish that darker side of ourselves. By the time spring arrives, we're bursting at the seams to emerge anew, like a budding flower from the earth. Nature is our mirror, every step of the way. So on days like today, the “unwelcome” snowflakes give me pause to reflect on all the work I’ve done over the winter months. I don’t resist their presence; rather I try to acknowledge it. Honor it. Sometimes I go back and read my journal from the past few months; I never cease to amaze myself with how far my mindset has come, season to season.  By properly honoring my winter incubation, I remember... ... even if it seems I’ve been treading water, there’s been an invisible tide drifting me with purpose in this ocean of opportunity.
When I was young — middle school I think, I fell off a horse and got the wind knocked out of me. I *think* subconsciously that was the day I decided that I “disliked animals.” (My poor ego was crushed! 🥴) I can’t think of any other logical moment I would ever decide such a thing… and it’s so funny to me imagining how many dogs I refused to pet for so many years on the premise that “I’m not an animal person.” I didn't grow up with pets, other than a cat, who died when I was 5. So, I guess I just never thought life needed to be any different. When I met Sean when I was 23, I’d lived some 10+ years believing this about myself. Then when I met his two sweet dogs back then, Foxy and Daisy you might be able to guess how it went... My belief about myself shattered in an instant. That’s the cool thing about beliefs. They can change. In an instant. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the love Sean shared with these two furry gals… and how I wanted to feel love like that, too. I allowed myself to open my heart to the animal kingdom, change my belief about myself, and the rest is history. (Me, pictured below with Tussock, left, and Darla)  Today, we have eight dogs (yes, 8!), plus four who've crossed over the rainbow bridge... and I've never regretted any decision to welcome another to our family. Despite 10 years living with the thought: Animals aren't my thing, I let it go — and it's been over 12 years of owning the fact that I'm a proud dog mom. If only we could all let go of long-standing beliefs about ourselves so easily... ... or can we? (Me, pictured below with Powder)  Meditation and yoga have been a game changer in molding my mind into something I control — rather than thoughts that control ME. My practice hasn't necessarily made my mind "quiet." In fact, most days, my mind is anything but quiet! Meditation has helped me notice those quiet, longstanding beliefs running on autopilot in my head that I'd had about myself. They were so softly running in my subconscious, I didn't even realize they were there! Through consistent practice and a willingness to unearth a few surprises, I've been able to reduce my stress, anxiety, and I've changed the way I show up in the world and the beliefs I have about myself, completely... in ways that go far beyond my relationship to animals. As a yoga and meditation teacher, people ask me a lot: Does your husband do yoga, too? Or: Does your husband meditate? And one of the coolest realizations Sean and I have had together is that not everyone meditates the same way! One day, Sean returned from a long mush with the dogs, and told me, "Hey. So, I *think* I just meditated." I chuckled, and asked him why he thought that. Sean described the peace and quiet he finds at the helm of the sled — like his mind is still churning, but all the thoughts fade to the background as he dives into the zen zone of dog mushing. Just him, the snow, and the quiet pitter patter of dog paws running along the snow. I smiled. Sounds like meditation to me! Techniques like meditation and yoga come to us at exactly the right moment, and no one's practice does (or needs!) to look the same as another's. Mine happens on a cushion with my eyes closed. Sean's happens on the dogsled with eyes wide open. Both are valid. Both yield similar results. And we are forever changed and happier because of it! (Sean pictured below with Darla, me pictured below with Powder)  If you're interested in practicing a little yoga + breathwork with me, I've included a recording of a Full Moon class I taught Monday night below. Enjoy! Speaking of yoga... we've been hard at work planning on our calendar for the rest of the year. We still have few spots open for SheWild Winter Session coming up in March/April, and we JUST released dates for our Fall Session in August/September. Details can be found here. In the coming week or so, we're hoping to drop dates for our Fall 2022 Yoga + Adventure retreats, and Winter's Womb Winter Solstice retreat in December... so stay tuned!
Before I experienced my first Arctic winter a few years back, Sean was the first to tell me: You’re going to want to hibernate. LIKE A BEAR?! I chuckled. Exactly. He replied, flatly. And dang: He wasn’t joking. I remember at first, I resisted the urge to flow with winter’s slow pace. I’d want to put the "pedal to the metal" as soon as I woke up each day — work calls, computer sessions, outdoor projects, you name it. I assumed the same pace I maintained all summer and fall would translate to winter. And no surprise here: I was wrong! Instead, I found myself craving more quiet time in the morning. Time to see the snow falling, or the northern lights still waving in the sky. Time to savor my coffee, journal, and meditate a little longer than usual. And — I'll admit — some days, I just wanted to sleep in a little longer! During my first few weeks of that winter, I felt like my hair was always on fire — from the moment I woke up to the moment my head hit the pillow. I was charging at a fast pace that wasn't sustainable — and yet, I knew I was the only one who could give myself permission to slow down.  Eventually, I had to shift. And isn't it funny how we always say to ourselves, "Why didn't I do this sooner?!" Things slow down in the wintertime — it’s a fact of nature. And in the Arctic? Things reallllllly slow down without the sun cresting the horizon for over a month. Just like the bears, we can give ourselves permission to hibernate in our own way. We warm up with hot tea, we up our vitamin D supplements, dine on root vegetable soups, and wear our slippers by the fire every night. Even our sled dogs, who are buzzing by 7am in the summertime, can be quiet and still until 10am in the winter — and sometimes, it just feels good to sleep in! The cycles and rhythms of Earth and the Moon went from being a nuisance that messed with my schedule to my muse. When I felt like I’d lost my groove, I could just step outside and look up! I learned a simple truth that I keep learning over and over again: Mother Nature is my rhythm.  So as I approach Winter Solstice and the Full Moon in the coming week, I’ll be celebrating the seasonal transition slowly, and steadily with our group of guests coming for Winter’s Womb. It will be an interesting cosmic combination! Solstice means “sun stands still,” and in those dark, tender moments of December 21st, we will be feeling the contrasting vibrancy of Full Moon energy from a few days prior. There will be yoga, meditation, ritual, good food, and memory making with new friends.  And even if you’re not here at Arctic Hive, there are tons of simple ways you can honor this season — whoever you are, whatever you believe in. We all have universal access to Mother Nature, and when we sync up with her rhythms, our whole perspective shifts and life falls into place a little easier most days.
Click here to see my top three tips for honoring this Winter Solstice + Full Moon combination! Sending love to you, wherever you are! Mollie  As I approach Winter Solstice and the Full Moon in the coming week, I’ll be celebrating the seasonal transition slowly, and steadily with our group of guests coming for Winter’s Womb. It will be an interesting cosmic combination! Solstice means “sun stands still,” and in those dark, tender moments of December 21st, we will be feeling the contrasting vibrancy of Full Moon energy from a few days prior. There will be yoga, meditation, ritual, good food, and memory making with new friends. And even if you’re not here at Arctic Hive, there are tons of simple ways you can honor this season — whoever you are, whatever you believe in. We all have universal access to Mother Nature, and when we sync up with her rhythms, our whole perspective shifts and life falls into place a little easier most days. Click here to get my top three tips for honoring the solstice. Here are three simple steps you can take to celebrate the Full Moon + Winter Solstice: Make an appointment with yourself to step outside after dark and find the full moon. My calendar tells me it’s at 4:36am Alaska Time on Sunday the 19th, but anytime on Saturday/Sunday/Monday next week is fine! If you’ve got clear enough weather, bundle up, be outside and notice everything you can. Sometimes appreciation doesn’t come naturally — it didn’t to me in the beginning. I remember looking at the moon thinking, Ok… well, it’s there. This is neat. How am I supposed to feel? But rather than “fake” appreciation, just focus on noticing things you don’t normally see. The craters and dark spots on the moon. How the moonlight reflects on trees or buildings nearby. Can you see the stars? If so, how many? If you’ve got kids, or a partner, or a friend or family member, bring them with you! It doesn’t necessarily need to set off fireworks of gratitude in your heart and you don’t need an elaborate ceremony for every Full Moon. Simply noticing is a powerful first step to syncing up with the Full Moon! Burn a layer you're willing to shed With the Solstice — technically December 21st or 22nd annually, we are at a turning point for the Sun. Sun stands still, making His transition from less light, to more light every day. The Sun, in Vedic Astrology, represents the true self — the soul. Who we are at the core of our being. And as such, I like to see the Solstice as a chance to start peeling back a new layer that’s been hiding part of me. Ask yourself: How can I be more myself this year? What can I let go of — what layer can I shed — so that a brighter version of myself shines out? Write down three things you’re prepared to release, and burn them in a fireplace or somewhere else safe. Fire is also the element of the Sun, and it burns up what no longer serves us. This simple ritual is just that: Simple. It packs a punch though: The act of burning up things we’re ready to release makes a little imprint on our minds that we are officially ready to let go. It may not happen overnight, but it becomes the first step to a new pathway forward. How do you want to feel? Finally, bring together the energy of the Full Moon AND the Solstice by writing out your intentions for the new year. As the Sun shows up more and more every day, how will you show up more and more for yourself in 2022? Rather than a super broad list of things you want, or big sweeping changes you want to make, I recommend focusing on three words for how you want to FEEL in 2022. That way, whatever “goals” you achieve (or don’t achieve), as long as you feel the way you want to feel, you’re on track. For a longer method to deciding your three “Core Desired Feelings,” check out Danielle Laporte’s book “The Desire Map” — it’s one of my favorites.  It all starts with a hole. We step right over it for weeks without any consequences… the snow has already blanketed the ground, but through this little hole, we can see that what we’re walking is a creek running casually underneath the surface. Slow and steady. That’s the thing about water — it’s designed to move. Then as the temperatures freeze and thaw, and freeze, and deep freeze, and warm up a tiny bit (and on and on), that water rises and freezes in ways we never dreamed possible. The little hole we were able to easily walk over is now unrecognizable — it has become layers (and layers) of widespread ice, making a once decent dog mushing trail a veritable ice-skating track. The ice will literally creep up hillsides! And this is no mistake of Nature. Nothing is wrong. Water is simply doing what water is was designed to do. Meet Overflow:  She can either be your friend, or your enemy. She forces you to re-think your trails, reconsider where you fill up your water supply, and at times, re-do your entire winter plan completely. If you only focus on her negative qualities, she’s sure to drive you nuts. But there’s some deep wisdom in Overflow. First off, she is a total renegade. As cold winter air meets cold water reaching the Earth’s surface, the result is the result is a dynamic, changing field of ice and/or open water. It seems crazy, really: OPEN WATER even in the coldest conditions of -40°F+! At Arctic Hive, our Overflow originates in the mountain headwaters of Mollie Creek. The creek runs all year round, and the overflow grows and grows as the months go on. We keep hoping things will get blanketed in more snow to make for better mushing, but her route (like the weather forecast) is different every year, keeping us on our toes. More snow also causes more stress and pressure on the flowing water and creates more overflow hazards further down creek — so the cycle never ends!  Oh, you don’t feel like paying attention to Her? She doesn’t care. She’s doesn't need you. Too lazy to put on your crampons when it gets real bad? She’ll throw you down. Want someone to come and move her out of your way so you can get on with your life? Nope. Not going to happen. This is the bush, and this is Alaska. You change your routines to accommodate her thankyouverymuch. We learn to co-exist with Nature in all her madness. Through that process, we get creative because complaining is futile. We are attentive to her every move. We come to appreciate the fact that we learn over and over (and over!) again: Nothing out here is in our control. Literally nothing. Sometimes we get a glimpse of the method to her madness. Overflow, with her widespread cloak, can create a buffer from the harsh climate in Alaska. Scientists tracking Overflow, a.k.a. Aufeis, as they call her (it's a German word that sounds like "off-ice") just a few hours north of us at Toolik Field Research Station have actually found up to 30 feet of unfrozen habitat underneath her. Like I said: Total renegade.  This unique natural feature of life here is another reminder to Sean and I that we might have a deed in our hands, and we might have built some stuff. But at the end of the day, we are visitors. Visitors lucky enough to see what we see. And — because we’ve done this a time or two before — lucky enough to know to anticipate Overflow’s springtime twins: Flood and Mud!
(More stories coming about those two hooligans in May, ha!) So, as we learn from Overflow, the wisdom is clear as a sheet of ice: Let it flow. Instead of fighting against the grain, move with the season, give up complaining (because #winteriscoming no matter what!), and if you really want to get wild, come see our Overflow for yourself on retreat at Arctic Hive! Sending gratitude to you and yours, Mollie I love the seasons here in the Arctic. Each has its own gifts, its own colors, its own flavor. And, if I’m behind honest, the first day of the transition is humbling, to say the least! You’re pulling out gear from storage, remembering how to layer for every situation, and smacking your forehead when you forget something. When winter blows in, there are two phases: Permanent jacket weather (easy transition — temps in the 20s and teens!), and the deep freeze (less easy transition — when daytime high temps hover around -10!). This week, the deep freeze set in.  Weather is the main news headline in our house. When a shift is in the forecast, all focus is on prep. And prep for Deep Freeze 2021 lasted forever! It’s weeks behind schedule, which made it feel even more like a bandaid being ripped off. We monitor fuel levels, fill water from the creek for (possibly) the last time, insulate propane lines, add straw in the dog boxes, add chicken fat to their nightly feast for more calories, assure firewood is split and stacked — all things that ideally happen in the short daylight hours between 10am and 4pm … which is ever decreasing by 12 minutes of light per day, all the way to Polar Night and the solstice. All this, plus daily life; work, coffee, testing new recipes, and dog mushing — winter’s BIGGEST perk! We are also putting the final touches on our cozy Yoga Dome in preparation for next month’s Winter Solstice yoga retreat.  It’s hard not to get overwhelmed… which is when I turn to the unique gifts of the season. Lady Winter does not disappoint. Whether lit by a few hours of sun or a headlamp after hours, the snow sparkles during the first deep freeze. A landscape that was once covered in tundra and tussocks is now blanketed by feet of snow, and sparkles in every direction. Even with very few hours of daylight (which will transition to no sun at all at the end of November!), there is light everywhere. The crystalline snowflakes piled high reflect light in all directions — Winter puts on her best sequined party dress for her full arrival… and we can, too. Winter dresses up to go inward. Although it’s always a little uncomfortable, “going in” is really the only way to go as a yogi. If we aim to evolve and grow, it’s imperative that we embrace the chance to check in with our inner environment. And Nature supports us in this goal, especially this time of year! Although the holidays can feel a little crazed, if we pause, breathe and notice the sequins, we see that Winter naturally encourages us to stay inside a little longer, snuggle up to those we love, and cook hearty soups with fresh baked sourdough. If we take her hint, we see there’s no better time than to embrace this time of reflection. Put on your sparkles as the temps dip low… dress up to dive into yourself this winter. And if you want to add about 7 layers, c’mon up to an Arctic Hive retreat. We’d love to have you!  From a deep sleep, I was roused by a familiar ah-WOOOOOOO! coming from our dog yard. The team (which is now 7 sled dogs and 1 puppy—a sled dog in training!) was calling for me — perhaps because they love me... ... more likely because I'm in charge of their breakfast. I glanced at my phone: 7:16am. Out the window, there was no sun in sight... just a fuzzy twilight on the horizon, indicating a future sunrise. I sighed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes — winter is on its way, and we're increasingly descending into darkness every day. In fact, each day in the Arctic we lose 12 minutes of daylight. As the sun rises later and later (and sets earlier and earlier), we get one step closer to Polar Night, the time of year when the sun doesn't rise above the horizon in the far north.  To put this into perspective:
 People ask me all the time how I survive living above the arctic circle when the sun doesn’t show its face for weeks during the winter. We don't see the sun — we just get about four hours of eery blue twilight, during which time we make it a priority to get outside with the dogs! Certainly, there are challenges without sunlight for a bulk of late December/early January... but despite those, I appreciate the opportunity because I believe life is made more meaningful by contrast.
At Arctic Hive, nature offers extreme opportunities to disconnect from things we often take for granted (like the sun)— and in absence, we find beauty unrivaled anywhere in the world. During Polar Night, if it’s clear, the northern lights seem brighter… and sometimes they’re still waving in the sky when we wake up in the morning. The Full Moon lights a path so bright, you don’t even need a headlamp. The New Moon engulfs us in darkness so black, we can’t even see our hands held in front of our face. There’s a certain serenity unlike anything I’ve experienced — and it’s in that extreme experience of polar opposites that I find access to nature’s wisdom, as I dive into my yoga practice (which includes the yoga of dog mushing!).  It was mid-April in the Arctic, and I could feel the pressure. The river was still covered in ice, and yet if I listened closely, I could feel the energy pulsing beneath its surface — bursting at the seams. The iced-over tributaries that flow into the Middle Fork of the Koyukuk River in the Brooks Range, like Wiseman Creek, were being slowly worn down by melt-off from the mountains. As the water comes down, it digs little trenches (that become very large trenches over time), relentlessly carving a path to the Koyukuk. The overflow doesn’t stop until it reaches its destination — and even then, it flows onward as it merges with the river. This is Mother Nature’s springtime awakening, called “Breakup” in Alaska. And during Breakup, the water steers our ship — meaning our plans revolve around the speed at which Her water melts, runs and flows. In addition to the running rivers, Arctic Breakup also causes the snow and ice on the ground to melt, the water to rise because the permafrost underneath the tundra prevents ice/snow melt from sinking into the ground — it’s like a flood that lasts longer than usual. This flooding causes the puddles to grow, the mud to thicken, the earth to feel spongey, and the trails to be slick. What was once a solid path is now a mud pit that acts like quicksand, suctioning your rubber boots with each sloshing step… sometimes threatening to pull your boot right off your foot.  No snowmachines. No wheelers. Just hand-hauling gear and water up to Arctic Hive during Breakup!  When Sean and I first started living off-grid in Montana years ago, I re-discovered my connection to Mother Nature. I remembered that I could sense Her seasonal patterns — which always seemed to curiously mirror my own internal world. It’s like She knows. Throughout those years in Montana, I went through some personal struggles that left me desperately clinging to anything that would keep me in the present moment — the stars, the wind, the night sky, even hawks flying overhead became my sign. When I saw them circling overhead, I’d remind myself that everything was working out. Then when we moved to Alaska, we went from Level 2 in the off-grid video game to Level 87 — in an instant. I realized quickly that up here, Mother Nature doesn’t hold back. If you’re not living in the present moment in the Alaskan bush, you’re dead. Literally, or figuratively — depending on the day. If we’re not getting assaulted with Her bounty of bugs, Her bone-chilling cold, or Her endless sunshine or darkness at opposite ends of the year, we’re basking in the glory of Her endless mountain ranges, divinely clear creek water, and Her thick forests and spongey tundra carpet. If you don’t like the weather, maybe change your clothes. Maybe change your attitude. And then move on to the next moment… just stay present!    Mother Nature is raw up here in the Brooks Range — and true to form, I’ve felt quite raw myself these past few months. On my darkest days, I’ve turned to the outdoors, seeking Her wisdom as I decided how to move forward in my life. As I leaned into the pressure of Breakup this April, I realized I felt all sorts of similar, uncomfortable pressure within my heart — the pressure before you finally open the floodgates. The pressure when you know it’s time to let go. And Mother Nature’s wisdom did not let me down. In June, I was privileged to let go and pass the torch of Yoga Hive Montana (my first yoga studio) to one of my dear friends and colleagues. I couldn’t feel more excited for her and the Montana yogis she’s going to hold space for, and more proud of myself for having the strength to untether my creation into the world. And yet, as I’ve finally returned to Alaska after a month of clearing out and cleaning up business in Montana, Mother Nature has been waiting for me up here. Per usual, She puts my life into perspective so well. I’d been feeling out of sorts for the past few weeks… a little extra sensitive… a little less motivated to tackle new projects. As we drove the wide, expansive road north through British Columbia, up through the Yukon and finally back to Alaska, Ma Nature whispered her wisdom to me in a meditation one morning: “Sometimes we require a little extra space in our lives before we can truly let go.” It never really landed with me until that moment. Of course letting go takes bandwidth! Even as an optimist, I understand that letting go is much easier said than done. Tossing out torn jeans from 2012 might be easy. And cleaning the basement is arduous but rewarding. But truly letting go of our most meaningful experiences, creations and even loved ones is an entirely different category. Letting go of those treasured pieces of our heart takes courage, integration, and assimilation. Like the Brooks Range overflow carving out pathways through frozen creeks before Mother Nature unleashes Breakup in full force, letting go is a path that only we know, and only we can walk — alone. And sometimes, we need extra space before we can experience the pulsing, powerful, expansive spaciousness that waits for us on the other side. And you know what? It's good to be here, now. In light, Mollie   One of our adventurous retreat goers last month arrived early for breakfast to thank me for creating a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for she and her partner at Arctic Hive. Without skipping a beat, I humbly replied “You’re so welcome,” as I’ve been taught to do... I smiled graciously, as I’ve always done. But then she went on, trying to put into words how deeply this place has touched her, and I watched tears well up in her eyes. Just then, something clicked in my head. I remembered how the week earlier, another retreat guest had walked up to her cabin every afternoon for four days straight and exclaimed, out loud, “Today was the BEST day!” And I remembered another retreat guest shared how he stayed back from an excursion to meditate on the deck of the Igloo, and felt as if he could hear the mountains speaking to him as he meditated and memorized the outline of one peak at a time. I realized that we hadn’t just given our guests a “good time up north.” We facilitated access to a sacred space to heal. How do I know for sure? Because Sean and I have felt it, too. Healing is the foundation upon which our retreat center was built — which didn’t really dawn on me till that moment.
When the COVID lockdown happened last March, Sean and I were thrown together in the same space for an undetermined amount of time, and all our plans to bring people to the Arctic that month were cancelled. All that time together was something we hadn’t experienced in years, given the haphazard schedule we’d been maintaining for work. So even though it was uncomfortable at first, we took that opportunity to re-imagine Arctic Hive, build our dream retreat center, and build up our relationship that had suffered some wear and tear from our intense entrepreneurial lifestyle. This sacred ground — which we were so lucky to purchase from an Alaskan Native family as some of the last available land in the entire Brooks Range — helped us relearn each other. It helped us learn more about ourselves. It helped us create a shared vision for our future. In short, Arctic Hive changed our lives, and our marriage. And incredulously, in that moment standing in the kitchen, hearing this woman’s words, I realized that healing capacity of Mother Nature wasn’t exclusively for Sean and I. That side effect of eye-opening self-discovery after spending time here, so close to the earth, is available to everyone... anyone who’s willing to show up, sit in quiet and listen to the heartbeat of Mother Nature — 270+ miles away from the nearest shopping center, town, and reliable internet. Here, we can hear Her feedback and wisdom. We can integrate Her teachings slowly, and steadily into our own lives. This is the way we were meant to be — one with Her, and thus one with all. Everything — and everyone — is interconnected. Sure, these retreats are filled with adventure, yoga, laughter, good food among good company (you'll see a photo recap, below!). But I now understand on a deep level that this land, so far from the hustle and bustle and yet in the middle of one of the most delicate ecosystems in the world... the Arctic... it’s here to jumpstart healing. Not just for us, as stewards of this property and visitors to Arctic Hive. But healing for humanity — and Mother Earth herself. I always tell folks that environmentally-speaking, what happens in the Arctic should be the concern of everyone, everywhere. It’s ground zero for climate change — which isn’t even debatable anymore. The changes happening here trickle into everyone’s life, no matter where you live around the globe. And now I know it can also be ground zero for reestablishing that connection with Source so that we might tread a little lighter on Her soil. So that we may be more conscious in our connections with others. So that we may live a more spiritually-sound life. |
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