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To Crazy Wisdom Community Journal’s Readers and Advertisers –
In the spirit of responding in a practical way to what is happening, we have postponed the publishing of our Spring/Summer Issue (May thru August 2020 – Issue #75) due to all the reverberations and fallout from the Covid-19 Pandemic. Our editorial content is all set to go, but so many of our advertisers are closed for business currently, and they’ve asked to postpone their advertisements. Additionally, so many of our 235 local/regional distribution spots are closed that we wouldn’t be able to distribute most of our 11,000-copy print run.
Features from our Winter 2020 Issue
It’s almost Solstice, and I am in the Irish Hills at the Great Lakes Foragers Gathering. Now fourteen years old, the Gathering has grown from twelve people sitting down to a foraged dinner to a community of 350—the largest east of the Mississippi. Mifsud, Boyd, and Elaina Sims are all organizers of the Gathering as well as foragers in their own right. We sit in a long open-sided roofed structure overlooking a grass-swathed hollow dotted with tents and scattered groups of people while I interview them. Along the rim of the hollow, I spot vendors with plants, glassware, salves, baskets, jewelry, ceramics, and a long line in front of a bakery. A steaming pot sits in the middle of a stone-rimmed fire circle at the center of the depression.
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So far 2026 may have felt like being a backseat passenger in a car driving on the most uneven terrain. We’ve had long orbital planets changing signs, and some of them clustered together in Aries, making the world stage feel edgy. We had a mercurial summer requiring us to adjust to last-minute changes. On the plus side, this may have included revisiting comforting places we haven’t been in years. To top it off, we just had the lunar eclipse on August 28 in dreamy Pisces, so it’s completely understandable if you feel unsettled. I wish I could tell you it is smooth sailing here on out, but there’s more to come.
For some of us, getting our hair cut is an experience. It isn’t often that we allow other people so close into our personal space, touching our heads, changing the way the world literally sees us. For me, it is a way to allow myself to be cared for—pampered even–which is not something many people get enough of. We all need to be taken care of sometimes, but it requires the right environment. It requires trust. Getting my hair done is also a kind of ritual; a way to reset when I need to reconnect with myself.
For many, ghost stories belong solely to the crisp nights of October. But for Crysta K. Coburn and Kay Gray, the minds behind the Haunted Mitten Podcast, the eerie history of the Great Lakes State is a year-round passion. Having recently wrapped up their seventh successful season, the duo has spent years transforming dusty library archives, maritime tragedies, and local folklore into a gripping, highly successful narrative podcast.
If it is important to you to remain strong, active, and thriving as you age, yoga can be one of your greatest allies. However, not all yoga practices are created equal, especially when it comes to aging well. So, what should you actually be focusing on in your yoga practice to support your body in a meaningful, sustainable way? Let’s take a closer look.
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In Hamtramck, a unique neighborhood establishment is redefining what it means to gather for a drink. Founded in 2023 by owner and creative director Zoey Ashwood, The Black Salt bridges the gap between a traditional craft cocktail bar and a dedicated space for metaphysics and ritual. For Ashwood, a former New York City painter, professional psychic, and lifelong practitioner of witchcraft, the integration of cocktails and magic is entirely natural.
In the living room of a farmstead outside Dexter, Michigan, a willow casket stands upright against the wall. It holds books for now, but eventually it will hold the woman who wove it. That woman is Michael Marie Schofield, a “fiber and funerary artisan.” Schofield weaves conventional basketry and dye work as well as teaches around Southeast Michigan. “But I also do funerary vessels,” she said. “I craft handmade caskets and burial trays and urns and plant dyed shrouds for use in more sustainable end of life options.”
Posts from our Blog
I hear the voice of Kitch-iti-Kipi as a bubbling uprising of energy coming from deep in the earth under the springs.
Nights with an infant stretched long, with nuanced and layered emotions. Some nights, the weight of exhaustion seemed unbearable. I wanted to crumple into the piles of laundry, to sink into a mountain of fabric as though it was a nest that would cradle my body so that I could rest. Instead, I sat and rocked my daughter back to sleep, her warm body on my chest, and I looked out the window to the full moon. My mind meandered through the glass, past my yard, traveling to the other mothers who sat under the same moon and nurtured their own little ones. In those quiet moments, I felt a thread of connection pulling taught between myself and mothers I’d never meet — bound not by place or even time but by love and nurturing.
As we moved around the lake, we slowed to quietly watch beavers and muskrats forage at the water’s edge. Herons stood like dignified statues, waiting for fish to venture near their shadows. Turtles basked on fallen logs, stretching their heads to warm their long necks. Minnows dimpled the surface as they dashed to deeper water. Occasionally a cautious doe would bring her fawns to drink. My relationship with the land deepened, and I contemplated the generations of humans and other animals that thrived in and around the wat
I was driving past Domino’s Farm recently and wondered whether bison moo like cows. Big Bull (current leader of the Dominos herd) popped into my mind, grinned and went “mooooo!” Then he laughed his fuzzy butt off!
When Dave Sharp, bassist, bandleader, A2 Jazz Fest founder and artistic director at Ann Arbor’s Blue LLama Jazz Club, first thought of putting on a jazz festival, he was just trying to solve a problem: the jazz music program at the Ann Arbor Music Center (AAMC), was really starting to grow in popularity. With teachers like Dave and his colleagues, Detroit-based drummer, Gayelynn McKinney, and Ann Arbor-based saxophonist, Paul Vornhagen added to an already all-star popular music slate that included Theo Katzman (former Vulfpek frontman), Ann Arbor’s only Rock Band School—now with Jazz - was bursting at the seams.
Harambe was a 17-year-old 450-pound male gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo. On May 28, 2016, a three-year-old boy climbed under a fence and fell into the gorilla enclosure’s moat. Overwhelmed and distressed by the uproar from panicking humans, Harambe tried to move the boy to a more protected part of the enclosure. Because of Harambe’s size and strength and the potential for accidental harm, he was shot and killed by zoo officials. The incident was caught on camera and became a major viral meme and cultural phenomenon. It also sparked intense international debate over zookeeping, animal rights, and parental responsibility in public spaces.
As my great Aunt Wanda braided wildflower stems together, her hazel eyes sparkled and a mysterious, yet playful, grin danced across her lips. She told me stories of wood fairies, who were shy and hidden just out of our sight, yet deeply inquisitive and always listening. She described them as gentle yet volatile, delicate yet strong. They were connected to the woods and nurtured plants and forest creatures. Their protective nature also came with quick tempers; they would play tricks on those who were greedy or destructive.
“Omaha Beach was one of the five main landing areas during the Allied invasion of German-occupied France on June 6, 1944 (D-Day). It was the most heavily defended and deadliest of all landing sites, with roughly 2,400 U.S. casualties out of 34,000 troops. Today, it is a place for reflection with memorials and the nearby American Cemetery.”
When I was in my mid-20s, I had a brush with cancer. The diagnosis led to a series of tests and seemingly endless appointments with various specialists. I sat in waiting rooms, awaited results, scheduled further appointments. My art at the time reflected my feelings of being poked, prodded, and reduced to a numbered specimen. I’d never before faced surgery, and the night before the procedure, I laid awake, contemplating my mortality.
Recently I went to the PTO Thrift Shop on South Industrial in Ann Arbor, and parked way in the back next to the railroad tracks. Returning to my car, I spotted a feral, long-haired orange cat perched on a piece of discarded concrete. We were only eight feet apart, but there was so much brush and junk between us that she felt safe enough to stay where she was.
Creamy Michigan Wild Rice and Corn Chowder recipes just in time for the holidays!