Heartland

Nina Utne Utne magazine

While my husband, Eric, was starting this magazine in the mid-1980s, I was involved in starting an inner-city Waldorf School because I was so inspired by Waldorf's developmental approach to education. Seven years ago, not long after Eric had left the magazine and I began to play an active role, he became a teacher at the school. It would be nice if we could say that the transition was elegantly and consciously planned, but it was entirely unpremeditated. In the process, we have had to fundamentally, continually, and often awkwardly reimagine our relationships to each other and to ourselves.

A few weeks ago my friend Marcela, who is a parent at the school, told me what an extraordinary experience her daughter is having there, how gifted and dedicated the teachers are, and how vibrant and supportive the community is. Neither Eric nor I have any formal connection to the school anymore, and our kids are no longer there, so it gives me great joy to know that what we helped start is thriving.

Marcela's reminder that the things we begin evolve beyond our expectations turned out to be a fortuitous omen: Just a few days later, on June 1, we sold Utne magazine to Ogden Publications, publishers of Mother Earth News, Natural Home, the Herb Companion, Herbs for Health, and several other national consumer publications. While I bemoan the fact that the single-title publishing business model has become a koan-one that I, for one, have been unable to crack-I am deeply grateful that we have found such a compatible ally in Ogden.

I first came to the magazine (prepared for my new role primarily by the fact that as the mother of four boys, I am not easily intimidated) intending to be a temporary steward only until I found a moneyed partner or a buyer to entrust with our name and our mission. During the process of searching, I discovered that I cared passionately about our independence and our ability to speak out-and that I wasn't willing to compromise. So, quite accidentally, I found myself running a national magazine.

When Bryan Welch, publisher and editorial director of Ogden, turned to me at dinner this past January and asked if, assuming I could continue to play an active role, I'd ever consider selling Utne, I knew instinctively that Ogden represented our best possible future: The magazine can now thrive and evolve in trustworthy hands; our staff is part of a growing company that is a beacon in the field of independent publishing; and I will continue as editor at large (look for my column on the back page in future issues).

Eric's vision has endured and touched many lives over the past 22 years. It has been humbling and inspiring to hear how powerfully the ideas and images in these pages have reverberated in ways we never could have imagined. I speak for both of us when I say that we are grateful to you, our readers, past, present, and future, for your inquiring minds, open hearts, and courageous actions. You give us hope.

It's said that every cell in our bodies is replaced every seven years. So I am literally not the same person who stumbled into this role. I certainly have more gray hair, but I also have more patience, more compassion, and more willingness to look foolish. Now the sale of the magazine offers me the exciting and daunting opportunity to reimagine myself.

One thing that I know now that I didn't know seven years ago is that the discomfort of not knowing is an essential part of the process of creativity and change. The truth is that we rarely know as much as we think we do-or as much as we wish we did-so we might as well find some humor and ease in the fact that we are always in the unknown.

May your next seven years unfold in ways that surprise and amaze you. May you find ways to put your gifts to service. May you laugh and cry and dance with the vicissitudes of life.