Dear Friend,

Everything feels better in the fall.
The air, the colors, the edges of change.
After a year of re-rooting, I’m finally catching my breath and remembering why I do this work: to stay close to what’s real.

My work lives at the intersection of death, ecology, and creative renewal. Three doorways into the same mystery of transformation.

Lately, that has taken a few forms:

🍄 Metamorphosis Works!
My living study in spiritual ecology and death literacy.
Each week I write on Substack about endings, creativity, and how decay becomes design. It’s where I practice seeing change as a teacher instead of a threat.

💌 Metamorphosis Mail Club
Launching November 2025.
Every month, a letter and art postcard arrive by mail — small rituals for remembering that transformation is something the body can feel.
It’s mail that reminds you you’re alive. Interested? Click here.

🦋 The Metamorphaverse
A speculative-fiction universe where humans, machines, and nature reunite.
Book One—Catharsis—begins serial publication on Substack this November and releases in print May 2026. It’s my way of myth-making what I’m learning in real life.

🌳 Death Doula & Legacy Work
I also walk with the dying — helping people create legacy projects that keep love moving long after they’re gone. If that’s the kind of support you’re seeking, contact me.

=＾● ⋏ ●＾=

As I write this, my life is built around three long arcs:

• 1000 hours outside — listening to the forest. I’ve completed 800+ hours and it’s been life changing.

• 1000 hours writing — stories, essays, field notes. I’m a bit behind, currently hovering around 650 hours.

• 52 books in a year — learning how others have faced endings with grace. Right on track to complete by the end of the year.

They aren’t goals so much as rituals to ground me as I experience and immense amount of change and growth.

I’m building toward a 2026 where all of this weaves together: writing, teaching, and death work as one ecosystem. Courses and gatherings will come when the roots are ready.

For now, I’m tending what’s here, one season at a time.

With gratitude,
Charlotte