What is Explorer’s Journey?
Explorer’s Journey is a Waldorf inspired, nature-based course guiding and supporting parents through the 9-year change. Using simple tools and practices offered each month for strengthening family connections, culminating into a beautifully personalized ceremony to mark this milestone.
Explorer's Journey was born from a deep desire to support families going through the 9-year change while connecting them to the power of simple ceremony in a way that feels authentic, relatable, and empowering.
Learn more in our FAQ section.
Explorer’s Journey Program Information
Fall/Winter 2023/2024
Explorer’s Journey
One Sunday a month for 6 months
Six 1.25-hour Zoom calls
Plus, a 30-minute private Ceremony Design Meeting:
September 17th, October 15th, November 19th,
December 17th, Jan 21st, and Feb 25th
(with a Winter ceremony in Jan/Feb)
5 pm PT/8 pm ET
Cost: $750 per family
Spring/Summer 2023
Explorer’s Journey
One Sunday a month for 6 months
Six 1.25-hour Zoom calls
Plus, a 30-minute private Ceremony Design Meeting:
March 5th, April 2nd, May 7th, June 4th, July 9th, August 6th
(with a Summer ceremony in July/Aug)
5 pm PT/8 pm ET
Cost: $750 per family
New DIY-version of this course, coming SOON!
Explorer’s Journey is for families who:
Seek a way to meaningfully support and honor this memorable transition
Crave a pause in their busy lives
Are eager to soak in the gifts of family
Yearn for the feeling of support within community
Know the importance of bearing witness to transformation
Desire a structure within which to do this
“The experience of intentional ceremony is something that our family now holds dear.
We feel more connected because of the tradition and process.
Andrea and Ted have created a life-changing experience for the whole family and I recommend this course to the fullest.”
--Parent of EJ Spring/Summer 2020
Charlotte, 9 years old
This bold and creative girl always seems up for a challenge. When her family mentioned they wanted to honor and celebrate her, she didn’t really understand what they meant, but was up for it all. Learn to knit a hat? Got it! Learn to build a fire? Only if s’mores are involved. And off she went, challenging herself (sometimes with tears but always with toasted marshmallows to make it all better). On the day of her ceremony, after months of time spent with her mentor Aunt Paige, a completed knitted hat to show off, she shined so brightly with her brothers, mom and dad and aunt welcoming her into this new chapter with pride.
Miles, 10 years old
This wise and gentle boy was so ready for his big day. After months of tending to fires and learning to make a favorite recipe, he welcomed the opportunity to shine. On his ceremony day, as he walked bravely to his sit spot alone, his family whittled this hiking stick for the many adventures that lie ahead for him. Upon his return, he was gifted a new Privilege and a new Responsibility that he accepted with pride. They enjoyed a stack of his homemade pancakes to celebrate this new chapter!
Charlotte, 9 years old
There’s no stopping this one! That seems to be a theme with this shining girl. And being 3rd born, her parents wanted to find a way to honor her fire and uniqueness within this magical family. We worked together to find ways for Charlotte to feel challenged, to feel seen, and to feel celebrated. When it was time to head to her sit spot alone during her ceremony she told everyone how it was going to unfold…”40 minutes, NO visitors!” And look how she stepped into her new chapter...out of breath and so very ready for what is to come.
“On Turning 10”
- a poem by Billy Collins
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.
This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.