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Trebbe
Johnson
Life’s a heroic journey, I’ve always felt—full of monsters to
fight, obstacles to negotiate, surprising allies to support you, and divine
lovers who beckon you into some mystery you’re both drawn to and scared of. I don’t know anyone whose life hasn’t
been an incredible journey of ups and downs, triumphs and
trials, sorrow in the midst of great joy and, even more
amazing, joy in the midst of the deepest chasms of sorrow.
Approaching the mystery of another human being from this
point of view immediately gives me a sense of all they’ve
strived for, hoped for, lost and triumphed over—and all
before I know a single fact about them. Knowing the facts
that fill in this mythic frame, I am continually awed and
amazed by the feat of being human.
My deepest sorrow is the
degradation of the natural world and the seeming
indifference of so many people to what is happening all
around them. Yet because I see people as mythic and heroic,
I can’t help believing that if we can just reconnect with
our love of nature, we will be compelled to sustain our
planet not just because we have to, but because we
passionately want to.
Over the years, I’ve struggled
through my own dark times with alcohol, crippling
self-doubt, and serious problems with food and money. I’ve
been through the illnesses and deaths of lovers, family
members, and friends. Personal darkness—my own or that of
others—grieves me but does not throw me off balance, and I
know that, no matter what one is going through, astonishing
acts of beauty, compassion, and even joy wait to be given
and received.
Living in an old stone cottage on
the Berkshire Downs in England when I was in my twenties, I
discovered that if you sit still in one place, any
place, in nature, something amazing will soon happen. The
wind blows the light across the field. The reflection of a
hawk wafts across a woodland pond. A single red berry spins
wildly at the end of a stalk. In 1988, when I heard that
there was such a thing as a vision quest, where a person
remained for several days in one wilderness place, and that
you didn’t have to be a native person to receive insight
from the earth, I knew I’d found a path I had to follow.
My formal training to be a vision quest guide from
1992-94 was with Animas Valley Institute, the School of Lost
Borders, and SOLO Wilderness Medicine. I also embarked on a
self-defined educational path to learn several skills I felt
I needed to be a really good vision quest guide. I took a
public speaking class and a women’s self defense course,
studied dowsing with two master dowsers in Maine, learned
drumming from Babatunde Olatunji, was part of a Jungian
dream group, and became a certified guide of the Personal
Totem Pole process of guided imagery.
For thirty-five years I’ve been
self-employed, primarily as a writer, since 1993 as a guide
of vision quests, workshops and other mythic journeys. I’ve
had a few other jobs as well: life-drawing model,
street-sweeper in my English village, award-winning
multimedia producer in New York, translator of German,
abridger of audiobooks. I’ve tried to do what I love, and if
that hasn’t been possible, I’ve tried to love what I do.
I’ve camped alone in the Arctic, studied classical Indian
dance, written journalism about the Navajo and Hopi people,
and slept in beautiful wilderness areas from my own back
yard to the Sahara Desert. I have amazing friends all over
the world. I live with my husband, Andy Gardner, a potter
and rustic furniture maker, in rural northeastern
Pennsylvania, where we have a big organic garden, lots of
books, and mutual wonder at the mystery of this other person
we live with.
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