This Saturday is the solstice — sol and sistere, the sun standing still. The longest day, when the sun pauses at the top of its arc before starting back. Every culture that paid attention to the sky built a way to mark it. At Magic Forest, we mark it the way that fits this place: a yoga practice in the afternoon, the creek when the day is hottest, a fire circle as the sun starts down, a sauna into the evening, dinner together, and music into the night. Mila co-hosts; I bring decades of Aṣṭāṅga and Indian philosophical study, and the land does most of the rest.

This is family land. I grew up in these woods and inherited the property from my parents. For more than thirty years we’ve been gathering people out here for yoga and various kinds of working with the land. The moment you turn off the pavement, you feel it — a million miles from anywhere.

Locals say Capone’s people ran moonshine off this road during Prohibition, and that there’s treasure buried somewhere in these woods. I can’t vouch for either. This time of year the place is dense, jungley, alive — a real magic forest.