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How did we get here? | No. 3

Ella and I have arrived in West Cork and I am feeling contemplative. Maybe it is the mountains and sea and stars allowing my mind to be at ease, or maybe it is all the contemplative benches we’ve found over the past few days. Either way, I feel like reflecting back on a few things, and trying to answer the above question from three different directions: physically, personally, and then philosophically.

How did we get here? | No. 3
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The (spoon) horse | No. 2

It seems that if I don’t immediately start writing down my thoughts early in the morning, I lose hold of them within a few hours. From migraines (not mine), to people in cars rushing past, to needing to break to consume sustenance, the things seem to pile on top of the clarity until they’ve buried it beneath the earthworms.

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Behind the name

In late 2019, a family member gifted me a book called Wilding, by Isabella Tree. It is the story of a 2,500 acre farm in West Sussex which she and her husband inherited. For many years they tried to industrially farm the land, but they began to realize that all they were doing was wreaking havoc on a natural habitat for no profit. They finally quit trying to farm the land and instead decided to let nature take it’s course.

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