letter from the creator
Tending the fire.
Imagine a night under the stars. The fire whispers softly, its sparks rising to join the constellations. You feel the warm sand under your feet at the edge of the fire, the smoke bellowing around you, cleansing you, singing you in. There’s elders beside you, drawing symbols in the sand not to decorate, but to direct. Each line, each circle, each curve calls you to remember, to remember your place in the great web of life, in the pattern of creation, that fragment that each of us holds. It is there, within you, it’s ok if you have forgotten, you just have to be reminded…
This is where the VA Network began – out here, at the fire, under an ancient sky. It began with my mentor, Dig. His hands would dance in the sand, carving stories into the earth – maps of reciprocity, of balance, of obligation; symbols that held the wisdom of generations.
The fire doesn’t belong to anyone; it belongs to the stories. Our job is to keep it burning, to gather the people, and to make space for the truth to rise with the smoke. Around the fire, we remember who we are, where we come from, and how we’re all connected. The story isn’t yours or mine – it’s ours to share.”
The story isn’t yours to keep. It belongs to the land and the people it came from. Your job is to carry it, carefully, and pass it on.
When we sat by the fire and sung up the story that would go onto become The VA Network, he made it clear from the start; it’s a space for stories to live, to breathe, and to be carried forward.
This isn’t just a platform. It’s a campfire – a digital one of spirit, yes, but a real fire all the same. It’s a place where stories gather to warm us, to guide us, to remind us who we are.
We live in a time when stories are everywhere, but the ones that matter most – the ones tied to land, to culture, to responsibility – are often drowned out. And without those stories, we forget. We forget that stories are medicine.
They heal us when we’re broken, guide us when we’re lost, and connect us when we’re isolated. They teach us how to walk with the land, how to care for each other, and how to see ourselves – not as separate, but as part of the living web that holds us all. For we are nothing is we are out of relation.
The VA Network exists to amplify those stories. It’s a space where Indigenous and First Nations voices rise, where ancient wisdom meets modern technology, and where every story is tied back to its place, its people, its spirit.
Because the truth is, the land is not just a backdrop for these stories – it’s the storyteller. And the map we’ve created on the VA Network isn’t just a feature; it’s a songline for the digital age. Each pin holds the voice of a place, inviting you to listen, to learn, and to remember.
Dig would talk about the ‘connectedness protocols.’ These aren’t abstract ideas – they’re the laws of relationship, the way everything holds together. Stories are the foundations of those protocols. They remind us of how to act with respect, how to give back as much as we take, how to hold space for others.
That’s what the VA Network does. It holds space. For the stories, for the land, for the people who have carried this knowledge for thousands of years. My role is simplest, and the hardest: I’m not a CEO. I’m just the firekeeper. A custodian. I’m here to tend the flames, to invite others to gather, to make sure this fire burns bright enough for everyone to see.
In our world today, so many fires have gone cold. The threads that connect us – to each other, to the land, to spirit – are fraying. But the knowledge hasn’t disappeared. It’s still there, held in the stories, held in between us, waiting to be heard. We all hold a fragment of the pattern; we just have to remember.
The VA Network is one of the ways Dig has me tending that fire, of ensuring those stories find their way to the people who need them most. It’s not about entertainment – it’s about transformation. It’s about re-becoming custodians of the creation, of the earth, of each other, and of the wisdom that can guide us all forward.
rebecome custodians of creation.
Dig used to say, ‘The fire isn’t yours. It’s for everyone who comes to it.’ And so, I invite you: Come sit with us. Bring your story. Add your spark.
Together, we can keep the fire burning – for the land, for the people, and for the future.
The fire of creation burns within you. The stories of the land call to you. This is your invitation to step into the circle, to retake your role, and to weave your thread back into the web of life. For it is only together, as custodians of each other and the earth, that we can heal what has been broken and create a future where all can thrive.
The fire is lit. The stories are waiting. And the truth is in the spaces between.
