The Ten-Acre Wood: On Wildness, Provision, and Practising Where You Actually Are
There’s a plantation at the back of Drum Hill scout camp, three miles from my door. Ten acres of pine, maybe less. A footpath runs straight through the middle of it. I’ve known it since my shamanic apprenticeship in the nineties — it was one of the first patches of ground I was ever sent out into alone. I remember one session vividly. Dusk, early training, and I’d walked up to sit in the trees…











