10/09/2026
Iām a very optimistic and positive person, but I also call the dark when I see it.
Shadow work needs to be done for our society. We need to look at the dark directly to figure out where to go from here.
Iām actually reading a graphic novel about WWII right now called Song of a Blackbird, which is a great reminder of what humans are capable of when they are stuck in their shadow. Itās been making me think about my own familyās history in WWII. Itās a great warning. One we really should be paying attention to.
My dadās side of the family is from Poland. My grandpa was born in New York, but my great-grandpa didnāt like it there, so they moved back to the family farm outside of KrakĆ³w right before the war.
They were Catholic, but they were hiding Jewish people.
They were taken to Auschwitz.
My grandfather was set free because he was born in the US and we hadnāt entered the war yet. In his words, as he told my uncle, he walked across the Alps to get to safety.
When I traveled through Eastern Europe, I visited Auschwitz and several other concentration camps.
I remember standing in the building where prisoners were held while awaiting their sentences. I remember looking out toward the courtyard and seeing the rock at the place where prisoners were taken to be shot. I can still picture it vividly. Standing there, imagining the people who had been held in that building, knowing what was happening just outside.
The buildings are now filled with shoes and hair and suitcases belonging to people who never made it out.
I remember standing there looking at those piles of shoes. And the names. So many names. Almost an entire wall with my maiden name, Piotrowski, over and over again.
Those were people. Families. Children. People who had gardens and favorite foods and people they loved. People who had absolutely no idea what was coming.
That experience changed how I understood humanity. How fear and hatred can spread. How people can be manipulated into believing that other human beings are somehow less deserving of life. How entire societies can participate in, accept, or simply look away from horrific things.
Hurt people hurt people. But when that hurt is fed by propaganda, fear, and systems that reward cruelty, it can become something so much bigger and more horrifying.
It didnāt harden my heart. It didnāt completely break my trust in humanity.
But holy s**t, it came close.
And now, in 2026, our own government has announced plans to publicly livestream an ex*****on by firing squad.
Regardless of whether you believe a mass murderer deserves to be put to death, can we talk about how fu***ng disturbing it is to turn an ex*****on into a public spectacle?
To invite people to watch a human being get shot, supposedly to teach everyone a lesson about consequences?
What. The. Actual. F**k.
Iām not comparing the ex*****on of a convicted murderer to the Holocaust. They are not the same thing, and Iām not suggesting they are.
Iām talking about the normalization of violence. About a government deliberately making the killing of a human being into something for the public to watch.
This feels like one more small step toward the kind of darkness that history has already shown us humanity is capable of.
And it takes me right back to standing there at Auschwitz, looking at that rock. Thinking about the people who stood there before me. Thinking about my own family being taken to that place.
How does a society get to the point where these things become normal? Where people start accepting things that would have horrified them before?
History doesnāt have to repeat itself exactly for us to recognize the warning signs.
We need to look around. We need to see the darkness to understand why we need to find the light.
We need to CREATE the light.
But thereās another part of my familyās story that I think about just as much.
My great-grandparents were hiding Jewish people.
In a time when protecting someone could mean putting your entire family in danger, they made a choice to help.
I think about that a lot.
Because when we look back at history, itās easy to imagine that we would have been the people who stood up. That we would have helped. That we wouldnāt have gone along with what everyone else was doing.
But would we?
How do we actually become those people? How do we teach our children to be those people?
How do we raise kids who listen to their hearts and recognize another personās humanity, even when the people around them are telling them not to?
Who question authority when something feels wrong. Who donāt look away from suffering just because itās uncomfortable. Who know how to stand up for someone who needs help, even when itās not the popular or easy choice.
And how do WE show up for people right now?
Not just when things get really bad. Right now. In our everyday lives.
Do we know our neighbors? Do we check on people who are struggling? Are we willing to share what we have, even when we donāt have much? Are we teaching our kids how to work through disagreements, care for other people, and recognize when something isnāt right?
I think those choices matter enormously.
This empire is crumbling. Iāve been watching the cracks in our systems grow for decades now. And Iām not willing to just sit around waiting for someone in power to come fix things.
Our kids havenāt had the same opportunities to sit and talk with WWII survivors that previous generations did. That living memory is disappearing. But we can keep telling the stories. We can teach them what happened and why. We can teach them to question the things theyāre told and to make choices from their hearts.
And we can build communities where they actually get to practice those things.
Thatās what weāre trying to do here at Soul Fire Forest.
And I want to be very clear about something.
Iām not sharing this story to scare people into buying a workshop or joining our community.
Weāve been doing this work for years. Long before this announcement. Long before this particular moment in history. We arenāt suddenly trying to build a village because of yesterdayās news.
This is something Iāve believed in and worked toward for a long time, because Iāve seen the cracks, and because I believe so deeply in what people are capable of creating together.
I donāt want people making choices out of fear. I want people making choices because they recognize that something better is possible, and because they want to be part of creating it.
My own journey started with learning to cook from scratch. Learning how to take care of my body. Growing my own food. Figuring out how to depend a little less on systems that werenāt actually taking very good care of us.
But eventually I realized that I couldnāt do it all myself.
And I didnāt WANT to.
I needed a village.
I needed people who knew things I didnāt. People I could teach, and people who could teach me. People to share the work and the joy and the responsibility of taking care of each other.
We need to be interdependent. We need to know how to rely on each other.
Because the people who made it through some of historyās darkest times often survived because someone helped them. Someone shared food, offered shelter, kept a secret, or refused to turn them away.
Not everyone survived, even with support. My familyās story is a reminder of that, too.
But those choices mattered.
And I want my children to grow up knowing that when the world gets dark, they have choices. They can look away, they can go along with things that feel wrong, or they can do something to help.
I want them to know how to grow food, yes. But I also want them to know how to share it.
I want them to know how to stand up for themselves, and how to stand up for someone else.
I want them to know that community isnāt just having a group of people around you who think the same way you do. Itās learning how to live with people who are different from you. How to disagree without dehumanizing each other. How to work through conflict, share responsibility, and recognize that our well-being is connected to the well-being of the people around us.
And I want them to see us actually practicing those things, even when weāre messy and imperfect and figuring it out as we go.
Because kids learn so much more from what we DO than what we tell them.
I donāt want to raise children who are simply prepared to survive a broken world.
I want to raise children who know they have the power to help create a better one.
And I want them to grow up surrounded by other people who believe that, too.
So Iām asking you.
Who is your support?
Who can you call when things get hard? Who can call YOU? Do you have the skills you need, or people in your life who have skills you donāt?
Are you building those relationships now?
Because none of us can do everything. We arenāt supposed to.
And building a parallel system doesnāt mean running away from society, disappearing into the woods, or pretending we can be completely self-sufficient.
It means creating ways to meet our needs that donāt leave us entirely dependent on systems that are failing us. It means building relationships, sharing knowledge, growing food, supporting local people, creating networks of care, and learning how to make decisions together.
Sometimes that starts with something as simple as sharing a meal with your neighbors.
Thatās the work weāre doing at Soul Fire Forest. Not because we have all the answers. We absolutely fu***ng donāt. š
Weāre learning as we go, making mistakes, figuring out what works, and sharing what we learn.
And we want to help other people do the same, wherever they are.
This isnāt some distant dream weāre preparing for in another 10 years.
This is real s**t, happening right now.
I know it can feel overwhelming to look at the state of the world. I feel that, too. But I refuse to believe that the only choices are despair or pretending everything is fine.
Iām still an optimist. I still believe in humanity, despite everything Iāve seen and everything I know weāre capable of.
Maybe especially because I also know what weāre capable of when we choose love over fear.
My great-grandparents made a choice.
Every day, in much smaller ways, weāre making choices about what kind of world weāre helping to create, too.
So letās start showing up for each other. Letās teach our kids how to do that. Letās learn the skills, build the relationships, and create communities we can actually rely on.
Come learn with us. Come build parallel systems with us. Come join our network, or start building your own local web of people who have each otherās backs.
You donāt need to have it all figured out before you start.
We need each other. And we need to start acting like it.
