Weeks 10 & 11 2025-2026 in Review
In her podcast, Fare of the Free Child, Akilah Richards often talks about togethering. "Togethering," as a verb, refers to the ways we move through life, together, the ways we build, together, the ways we learn, together, to the deep and oft-forgotten truth that our power as a people and a species comes from how we together. Part of the beauty of this work and this community is the attention and intention that we are able to put into how we together here.
Everything we do here, we do together, in the ways that we decide to together.
Whether we're sharing food, playing games, making art, building structures, creating plans for our learning, or exploring the land, we are following the threads that connect us and letting them lead our way. Sometimes these threads create friction with each other, and still this friction too pulls us forward. A particular recent story comes to mind, when one group of young people here were working on rebuilding Cardboard City, and another group thought it would be fun to carry out attacks on the city, without the rest of the group's consent. Some members of the Cardboard City group were eager to playfully retaliate; others feared escalation and didn't want their building project to become a "war game." This became a two-fold discussion: How can we make room for both kinds of play? And, how do we hold our own boundaries when they are challenged? This second question is still in process, and is one to grow with. We all agree that TCC is a place where when someone says, "Stop," we stop, and that knowing that will be true contributes to a sense of safety in being able to say both "no" and "yes!".
We notice discomfort ourselves even in the sharing of this anecdote, and its complexity: and this is wholly the work that makes our roles so meaningful and rich, and in which we sit with big ideas alongside the young people and sometimes say, "I don't have an answer. We're going to have to figure this out together. I do believe in us." And then we walk, together. We know it may seem easier at times to have a set of rules and punishments or consequences laid out so that these types of situations might disappear. But they wouldn't - we'd just disappear them with policy, and in doing so we would also disappear so much of the togethering that is at times so uncomfortable and also so very critical to understanding how to life.
Meanwhile, the first question, "How can we make room for both types of play?" inspired the young people to create a new game: IRL Clash Royale. The group crafted prop weapons and armor from cardboard, duct tape, and rope, and generated rules inspired by the online card game, Clash Royale. They established play norms ("We won't hit any harder than this, and no head shots"), picked their teams and got to playing. It is a special thing to see play that so quickly and completely captures the enthusiasm and engagement of the entire group, and because all of the players have freely chosen to engage, they're also invested in self-monitoring and playing within the rules the group established.
Other togethering included:
our ongoing DnD campaign, in which the characters, now united, plunge deeper into their first dungeon, fighting goblins, finding loot, negotiating how they will or won't share the loot they find, and uncovering traps and secrets, all while being incredibly and deeply silly.
visioning a slowly-unfolding horror film script that may feature man-eating sheep, a vengeful turkey that haunts the forests of TCC, and other elements of campy occult (we just need a digital studio to get to work on this masterpiece!)
getting into the forest and appreciating the autumnal shifts. Pressing leaves for wax dipping.
Making slime. Making music. Making stamps. And making so. Much. Food.
Our menu for these weeks included a French vanilla cake, two (!) lemon verbena cakes, persimmon quick bread, and homemade pasta and pasta sauce. Not only did we come together to make these delights, to eat them, and to clean up after - these dishes took root in the soil here, were laid by our chickens, and offer a beautiful reminder that our togethering includes the land and creatures here. The pasta sauce was made with tomatoes, garlic, and oregano from our garden; the lemon verbena that flavored our cakes we harvested from our herb spiral; the eggs in the pasta came from the chickens in our coop. There is ceaseless awe in eating food that we planted and grew, or that comes from the animals that we care for. It calls us into gratitude, and responsibility, into the cycles of the land, and into the truth that all life only happens together.
We are blessed to be able to choose how we want to together.
What shall we choose?
With gratitude and care,
Emily, Sarah, and Zoey