Welcome to Canter Communications Studio

Wood Dragon Advising is doing business as (DBA) Canter Communications Studio continuing to support individual clients and organizations on Public Affairs and Community Engagement initiatives in support of Planetary and Human Health.

And, we are moving to a new website!

Before you go, as we all could use a little extra beauty in our lives, 
​please scroll down and enjoy some words and images. 

Canter Communications Studio

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​If we surrendered to earth's intelligence, we could rise up rooted, like trees.
~Rainer Maria Rilke

"Change is going to happen from people going inward within themselves and along with going back to having communion with their first mother, Mother Earth."
~Kevin Deer, Faithkeeper Mohawk Trail Longhouse, from Kahnawake Mohawk Territory

It is no measure of good health to be well adjusted to a sick society.
~Andrea Gibson

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A couple of favorite poems - 
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​I go among trees

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.

Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.

After days of labor,
mute in my consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we sing,
the day turns, the trees move.

by Wendell Berry. From "A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997" (University of California Press, 1999)

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What kind of times are these

There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.

I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.

I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light--
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.

​by Adrienne Rich. From "Dark Fields of the Republic: Poems 1991-1995" (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 1995)