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Rousing the embers of reverence

Ours is a life of paradox. Light and shadow swirl inside us. We are finite flesh but we can imagine through stars and time. Every moment of human life is a celebration and a wrenching tragedy.

How can we 'be' in that?

What would it be to honour this impossible life with love and reverence?

Can we quieten the call for control?

What if, somewhere inside these embodied dreams of our ancestors, we already know how?

Recalling Fire seeks to support this vital work of remembering: a loving restoration of our wonder for life.


Ways of the Fire






Wild places


Five Enquiries

Led by oral storytelling, ritual and wild places, we will deepen these five enquiries:

Fluidity of self:

The stories tell us we are as though an entire cast of ever-changing characters. In this work, and the natural world of chaos, creativity and individuality, we will tread warily around ideas like 'order' and 'control'.

Exploring shadow:

We recognise the nourishment in darkness as well as light: wisdom in grief, fulfilment in struggle. Our work is beyond a pursuit of happiness. 

Honouring community:

Behind every one of us stands an unlikely, unbroken line of forebears, jostling to see what we'll do with the time given to us. This work is rooted in the wisdom of our ancestors and elders and our responsibility to those who come after us.

Decentralising the human view:

How can this work recognise interconnectivity of all life on this planet? Can we believe ourselves part of the natural world, not controllers of it? Can we connect not WITH nature, but AS nature?

Intuition as source:

Like our fellow creatures of earth, we are ancient animals with access to deep cellular wisdom. Together, we breathe and bring focus to our bodies and the present moment.


The Depth of Story

King Arthur rides beside us

Traditional stories are more than entertainment. They're visual, iridescent containers of ancient wisdom. In their countless years of telling and retelling, fairy tales are able to filter and refine some of the sludgiest nuances of the human condition and our part in nature.

In every jealous dragon and splitting seedpod, we're invited to see different parts of ourselves. The fears and loves, passion, apathy, addiction and beauty inside us are the same as the generations who came before. We find it in the golden queen, the wild wolf and the hubbub of folkloric taverns. In the hero's quest, we can imagine a part of ourselves that overcomes. A part that is allowed to die to be reborn. To redefine who we are.

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And when those ideas bubble, under the branches and around a shared fire, fear can give way to recognition.



We can stop feverishly protecting the small corner of the world we call our identity and step towards a much older ideal: community.


Why is this important?

Since the beginning we have wondered...

Our paleolithic ancestors reached for something, dreaming half-animal humans onto cave walls to find us 44,000 years later, still wondering.

Is there more to this world? What am I? What is my purpose?

These kinds of questions don’t like to be looked at directly. Like fish jumping from the murky water of our longing, the answers are slippery – flashes of silver and ripples that quickly fade. These moments are peripheral, distinctly unscientific and, here's a scary word for our times: spiritual. So we push them away.

As though intuition has no place in education.

As though logic can explain love, music, soul.

As though we can rationalise the sight of our firstborn child.

If we’re going to save ourselves in these dangerous times, we need to recognise our wonder. Our fire. To lovingly recall it from the fringes of this era of cold logic and hard rationale. To step back into the spiralling duet of science and soul, logic and love, logos and eros. Our mythology is calling us home.