Celebrating One Year in the Yurt Clinic

On February 22, we celebrate a full year of working in the yurt. This has been a year of acupuncture sessions unexpectedly held within the embrace of nature, through shifting seasons, sun and cold, rain and wind. A year of stepping into this space each morning, lighting the fire, brewing tea, and welcoming you in.

The yurt has been more than just a clinic for me. It’s allowed me to be a better witness to time. The sun moves across the yurt throughout the year to let me know where I am in the seasons. I have watched the spiders lay their eggs and weave their webs, the adolescent ones learning through trial and error where to build. I have watched them grow old, disappear, and begin again. In their cycles, I have found unexpected lessons about patience, adaptation, and grief.

The squirrels have worked tirelessly on their own retirement plans, diligently preparing for the future, inspiring me to think about mine. The raccoons travel by night in quiet, disciplined single file lines across the top of the fence. Sometimes they slip past unnoticed and at other times, some of you have observed then with me; a mother leading her little ones forward and an old grandfather raccoon bringing up the rear.

The crows and blue jays have taken turns eating the nuts we leave them at the fountain, though the hummingbirds have no respect for their size and chase them away when they see fit. The crows, for reasons of their own, occasionally throw small objects at the yurt while you are inside - a gesture I have always taken as a sign of favor rather than offense.

And then, of course, the magnolia tree. When she blooms, the world shifts. Political anxieties and daily stress fade for a while under her extravagant pink and white blossoms. She spreads her branches wide, and under her watchful presence, healing feels more inevitable.

Being in this yurt, surrounded by the rhythms of nature, has allowed me to have some space inside the busy schedules and sounds of the city. The rain on the canvas, the calling of the squirrels and the song birds provide a soundtrack of their own. The cold reminds me to slow down. The sky, whether a soft, deep blue or a thick NW gray, opens up above us through the dome, a constant reminder that we are part of something larger.

I am grateful for this space, for the animals who share it, for the patients who step into it, and for the chance to work in communion with nature, even in the middle of the city. My hope is that when you come here, you too feel the presence of the land and the changing seasons, that you breathe in a Qi that moves in alignment with the world outside, and that this space offers you a moment of rest, balance, and connection.

Thank you for being part of this journey with me. Here’s to another year of healing, wonder, and time well spent under the sky.