Once upon a time, I built a teepee. I painted the door and filled it with things I loved. I made the poles, sanded each by hand, peeling the bark from each 16-foot sapling we had cut in our own woods.
Then I wrote a book about building it, and about life, transformation, and other things, some funny, some sad, some just whatever.
The manuscript for The 12-Foot Teepee took me about 7 months to write, almost as much time to edit, then a few more months to design the cover and the book. Getting it published, well … that’s a whole other story.
This was my teepee.
It stood, through all seasons for five years. This summer, the poles could no longer support the canvas, and the canvas itself was mildewed. Its time was over and it came down.
There won’t be another. I’m past sitting on any floor, even a teepee. It’s not getting down. It’s getting back up.
Building it was a rebirth. A physical teepee is nothing but a bit of canvas and sticks, the rest is spirit, love, and hope. I knew it wouldn’t last indefinitely. It survived for five years, which is about as long as it could in this climate. Especially since I left it up through all four seasons. Still, I miss it and always will.
I had some great hours in my teepee. My favorite was when snow was falling and I was cozy by my fire. It was the most peaceful place in my world.
You can find the book on Amazon, both as a paperback and in Kindle format. It is “The 12-Foot Teepee,“ by Marilyn Armstrong.
My life has moved on considerably since then but writing it was a turning point in my life. So … that was my life. And I wrote it already. Would I read it? I’m not sure. I haven’t made up my mind about that. Yet.