I originally wrote this for the Fifth World Design Diary in April, but its combination of anthropological topics, oral tradition, and practical storyjamming techniques means that it probably has a lot of interest to readers of this blog, as well. This piece originally introduced a series; I present it here with links to the rest of the series on the Fifth World Design Diary.

Arnold van Gennep worked as an ethnographer and folklorist at the turn of the last century in France. He gets credit for founding folklore as a field in that country, but most today remember him for his 1909 work, Rites of Passage. In it, van Gennep described three phases to any rite of passage:

As I write this, Mouse Guard: Winter 1152 occupies the #9 slot on The New York Times‘ list of best-selling hardcover graphic books, where it has now spent the past four weeks. The comic portrays the adventures of “mice with swords”—what Variety called “a mix of Lord of the Rings and Stuart Little.” The Mouse Guard books don’t present a very detailed or intricate plot, or even terribly complex characters (though the Winter series has certainly done more on that account than the preceding Fall series); still, it has attracted a devoted following because it evokes, in its setting and in David Petersen’s gorgeous art, such a captivating world.

Last time, I wrote about the unexpected richness of roleplaying games—or more specifically, storyjamming—as part of rewilding, as a crucial, long-term survival skill. I found something else interesting at that unusual intersection: other people. Yes, other people, besides me, have an interest in both rewilding and roleplaying games, and even how roleplaying games can deepen, improve, and help our rewilding!

• The College of Mythic Cartography. You can’t talk about storyjamming without mentioning the man who coined the term, Portland’s illustrious Willem Larsen. I do take some pride in having a hand in pushing Willem to dust off his old teenage hobby and see the potential in it.

Last year, I made the trip across Ohio to attend the Second Annual Eastern Woodland Native American Gathering and Pre-1840 Encampment. Admittedly, I had a distinct focus on the former. It distinguishes itself from a pow-wow because they don’t dance competitively. The year before, people had looked up to see a pair of bald eagles in the sky, seeming to join in to dance with them. I made the trip almost like an animist pilgrimage, looking for some kind of profound experience like that. I danced with them, though to my shame, my much-abused body wouldn’t take so much activity and I left the circle early. An announcement came later, asking people not to do that. I think they meant me.