I asked the river what to do about the job. I felt foolish saying it out loud. Then a stick — long, smooth, river-worn — bumped against my shin three times. I took it home. I quit the job two days later. The stick is on my desk.
You are wildkind. Rediscover the interconnection that's always been there, and receive a direct path to your wholeness, purpose, and deep sense of belonging.
Why Rimrock & Otter
The state of the world has left many of us navigating an existence that feels disconnected, empty, and powerless. Maybe there's a longing you can't name, or you're searching for your spark.
Modern society dimmed the part of us that noticed and understood signs from nature spirits, separating us from something critical to a purposeful, profound life and a thriving planet.
Restoring your oneness with nature connects you to the life force in everything — animals, plants, minerals, elements, landforms, even weather. This connection strengthens your perception of your greater place in the world, reigniting your vitality, sense of belonging, and feelings of aliveness.
At the core of it all
Everything and every being in the natural world is relational and reveals wisdom. Nothing is coincidental; it's synchronicity, meaningful serendipity. An eagle flies overhead just as you're contemplating a big change, numbers repeat, or things keep happening in patterns — all signs.
It's astrophysics and chemistry. Like the oak, the otter, and the ocean, every atom in our bodies was forged billions of years ago when stars made and spread oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen. We're family with nature, made of the same stuff. We are interconnected wildkind, never separate.
We're all born with a keen intuition and a kinship with nature, attuned to its wisdom. Maybe the logistics of life have had you on autopilot, but the path back to deep connectedness with spirits in nature is open to everyone — no special gift, no gatekeepers. Enchantment is yours to experience.
An open door
Virtual group sessions, a podcast, a card deck — all to begin.
If something has you leaning in, please leave your name. We'll reach out as soon as something new is launched.
I asked the river what to do about the job. I felt foolish saying it out loud. Then a stick — long, smooth, river-worn — bumped against my shin three times. I took it home. I quit the job two days later. The stick is on my desk.
I had been thinking, for weeks, about whether to leave. The night I decided, the wind came up so hard it took the porch screen door off its hinges and laid it flat on the lawn. The door — the literal door — was off. I was not going to be argued with.
Every day for a month, we found huge raccoon holes all over our lawn. On a walk one day, a family of raccoons sauntered across the road — the mama stopped and turned to me, folded her hands, and stared into my eyes for a minute. A few days later, Raccoon came to me in the cards and offered her medicine. Shadow work was nonnegotiable. The deep dark things I was ignoring needed to be unearthed.