There are places that have been holding you longer than you know. Before you had language for it. Before you understood what regulation meant, or why certain ground felt beneath your feet. Your body already knew. It has always known.

In today's story, Finnegan stays close to home for the first time in a long time. It is the coldest part of winter and the river is raging — louder and more indifferent than he has ever heard it. And at the edge of the water, closer than seems possible, stands a tree. Rooted. Unbraced. In full contact with everything trying to sweep it away.

In the integration talk, we explore place as a nervous system event — not as metaphor, but as something real and physical that has been shaping you your entire life. What it means that your body votes before your mind does. Why complexity and nourishment can live in t ...