This three-part cycle is an invitation to slow down and gather in community around the understanding that care and creativity are survival literacies and together, they are ways people remain connected and responsive in times of uncertainty and transition. Together, we will sit with complexity and honor what is breaking, while staying open to what is trying to emerge.

We’ve been socialized in societies that centralize competition, thin cooperation into transaction, and treat need as weakness. And so we scroll for answers, beg with landlords or mortgage brokers for a house that we’ll try to turn into home, and pine for community that surely must exist somewhere else. We tend to romanticize both the city and the countryside – letting our minds focus on the opposing wonders of each, pushing their considerable downsides off the edges of our daydreams. We ridicule suburbs, with their subdivisions and homeowners associations – tortured substitutes for something we surely once knew. We might even research intentional communities to ease the pain of enduring all this unintentional but defended disconnection.

At this point, Village life feels like fantasy. But perhaps, it’s memory: hazy and partial, but once real. A longing for context passed down through blood and bone, through stories whispered across generations.

In this cycle, we explored what it means to reVillage, what skills we might need for this endeavor, and how we might find the others.

In a time of deepening polarization and institutional distrust, we find ourselves in what Naomi Klein names the Mirror World, a landscape of distortions where genuine grievances, misinformation, and identity politics blur together. This has given rise to “diagonalism,” a phenomenon in which people tend to slide up and to the right of the political spectrum in ways that feed conspiratorial, extractive, or anti-democratic energies and mobilize support for more authoritarian politics. But what if there are ways to move beyond the fractal fragmentation of surveillance, polarizing effects of the attention economy, and the trap of partisanship?

In this cycle, we’ll enter the realm of the mythical, the uncanny, and the powerful. The supernatural is far more than fodder for entertaining fiction: it’s an enduring means of storytelling and metaphor, of bringing our attention to an incredible and confusing reality. To confront the supernatural — or invite it into our lives — is to welcome opportunities for personal introspection, enlivened relationship with the beings who surround us, and liberation from the old stories that tell us to fear the magic that surrounds us.

Throughout the Dying Grass Moon cycle, we turn towards the imaginary, convenient place of Away. There we throw our trash, there we send our recycling, there we flush our water. As the seasons change, we put the things, clothes, appliances away that we do not use anymore, or cannot find a way to repair, or repurpose. 

Sometimes, away is our basement, sometimes — a landfill outside the city. But it’s never non-existent on a map. Laws of time apply to it, too. 

Provisioning invites us to engage long-storied and ongoing practices of preparing for what’s to come by tending to what we have now. In the presence of perishable plenty and beneath the glow of the Corn Moon, we ask: What will we keep, share, store, or transform? 

This cycle explores how we sort the literal and metaphorical abundance of our lives, making choices about what to preserve, what to offer, and how to carry it forward. We’ll reflect on practical skills like storing food, sharing surplus, and crafting the right containers, while also honoring the deeper discernments around generosity, sufficiency, and what it takes to provision for collective care and entangled liberation.

As we lean into the search for simple pleasure all around us, we may find within ourselves the ability to identify the essence of pleasure entangled in all of our human experiences.