The Heart of Now, and Well-Being at Lost Valley
The past couple weeks have felt like my busiest at Lost Valley so far. Partly that’s because the summer is approaching, and along with it is coming the Ecovillage and Permaculture course that my internship supports. As the course gets closer, there’s more and more to do to prepare for it. This year there will be three main instructors-Rick Valley, the main permaculture guy at Lost Valley, Jude Hobbs, a local horticulturist who has been teaching permaculture courses with Rick for many years, and Marc Tobin, the director of the program (and therefore my boss) and the main instructor for the ecovillage aspects of the course. (“Ecovillage” is a term that’s fairly new to me and, I imagine, unfamiliar to many people who might be reading this. As you might guess, an ecovillage is an ecologically-focused intentional community, and I suspect that there are as many different ideas out there about exactly what that means, and how to talk about it, as there are about permaculture.) Rick and Marc both live at Lost Valley, though Rick is employed both by Lost Valley and independently (the latter as a landscaper, contractor, and permaculture designer). On Monday I met Jude for the first time, at a meeting at Cozmic Pizza with Rick and Marc, to work on developing the curriculum and the schedule. What people in my position, interns supporting the course, do isn’t entirely predetermined-there are so many different things that need to be done, and which ones fall to Marc and which ones to interns is flexible. It partly depends on what the intern is interested in. Since I want to learn about how teachers put courses like this together, a job that makes sense for me to do is coordinating the schedule. I don’t have the authority to make many decisions about it on my own, but as the person who synthesizes all the information into the form that everyone refers to, I’m familiar enough with it to notice some things that the instructors miss, to have my own ideas about how to make certain things work, and basically to make small but meaningful contributions to the ultimate form and content of the course. Coordinating the schedule of a two-month-long course with flexible material and with many guest instructors with their own schedules sometimes feels overwhelming, but there’s plenty of time to do it and I have lots of guidance, and the schedule is really starting to take shape. I’m learning a lot from working on it.
Another reason I’ve been busy is that I’ve been doing a couple of significant things outside of Lost Valley. With two other Lost Valley interns, I’m taking a short (three four-hour sessions altogether) course on various permaculture topics from a local permaculturist, Heiko Koester. (He went to Carleton! And he’s living in the same area I am, doing many of the same things I want to do-a person I’m glad to be able to connect with! The little conversation we’ve had about Carleton has been fun. He graduated in ’88, I think. He lived in Farmhouse and was a Druid. And incidentally, his partner Kristine participated in the same event that I did this past weekend.) There has been one session so far, which was an introduction to useful native wildflowers. It was also my introduction to medicinal plants and to wildcrafting. I enjoyed it, and I’m even more excited about the next session, which will cover temperate fruit trees. Maybe I’ll write more about the first session another time-it was interesting.
There’s a personal growth workshop called The Heart of Now that was basically started at Lost Valley. Until several months ago the workshops took place here, and although the Heart of Now recently became its own non-profit organization, the culture of Lost Valley has been deeply influenced by the ways of being and of connecting with other people that the workshop teaches. There’s usually one workshop each month, and I attended the one this past weekend. I had some powerful experiences learning about self-love and self-acceptance, taking risks, claiming space, and owning the wide range of choices that exists in every moment. I learned a lot about breathing and being present. I think that some other participants in the course had much more dramatically transformational experiences than I did, and it was very moving and inspiring to see some of what they were going through. Many people experienced or began deep healing. Something that struck me during the weekend was how hard most people are on themselves-how few people seem to fully love themselves, in fact. There are people who feel, in some part of themselves, that literally every person in the world is inherently lovable except themselves! It makes me very sad. Finding that out provides some perspective on how reasonable (or rather how unreasonable) most people’s feelings of self-loathing are, and it also seems to me to be yet another indicator of how this society fails us. Fortunately, loving ourselves is within our power. And the better we do at that, the better we can do at being our full selves and loving other people.
Yesterday evening-as there is every Tuesday evening at Lost Valley-there was a Well-Being meeting. Three Tuesdays a month the meeting is optional and varies widely in format, from Heart of Now-type activities for connecting with other people, to games (though the meetings are usually Heart of Now-style, like the one described below). One Tuesday each month, the meeting is mandatory for community members, and other residents aren’t invited. (Lost Valley is made up of members, people on the track to membership, other renters, interns, and children.) Last night was the members’ mandatory Well-Being meeting, but this time they encouraged all residents to come, and most did. It was a Heart of Now-type evening (and therefore a perfect opportunity for me to write about what some of those activities are like). The meeting began with “milling,” an exercise I’ve now done through Heart of Now and on a few different occasions at Lost Valley. What it involves is going up to another person, looking into their eyes (and holding their hands if both people want to, which most people usually seem to do), and being present with yourself and with the other person. It’s hard for me to guess exactly how long it lasts, but I think it’s usually around a minute-which feels much longer than a minute would feel doing almost anything else! The first few rounds of milling are usually silent. You just look into each other’s eyes until you feel like you’ve made a real connection, and then you part in whatever way feels natural, which for most people usually seems to mean hugging. Then the next few rounds are a one-way conversation; while you’re looking into each other’s eyes and being present, one person shares something about what they’re noticing coming up in their thoughts, emotions, or the sensations in their body. The only words the other person responds with are “thank you.” To many people who might be reading this, milling must sound like just about the most awkward thing in the world! And the very first time I did it (at an intern meeting the day after I arrived at Lost Valley), I did feel a little bit uncomfortable at first. But I got used to it quickly, as it seems most people do, and most people seem to find it enjoyable and meaningful. I actually think it’s pretty amazing how well it’s possible to connect with someone through eye contact alone. It can be possible to see the spark of someone’s life, and to perceive their dignity and truth. In some relationships, words only get in the way of that kind of connection.
After milling, we sat in a circle. Each person shared, in two minutes or under, something (or a few things) that they’re grateful for and something that they want to shift in their life. That’s a kind of activity that can have so little or so much value, depending on the particular situation. Last night, people spoke very openly (maybe after milling it would be hard not to) about things that were clearly of true importance to them, so it was a wonderful, vulnerable way of sharing and connecting. After the circle we did triads-getting into groups of three and giving each person fifteen minutes to speak about anything they want, receive feedback, or however else they want to use the time. (We did triads twice at Heart of Now, but both times, each person had forty minutes. Those were some of the most intense and amazing parts of the workshop for me. And surprising. My portion of my Saturday triad included a spontaneous game of tag!) After the triads we all shared a last few rounds of milling; these ones were also one-way conversations, and what the speaking person shared was something that they think is wonderful about the other person. Then we got back into a circle and closed by bowing to each other.
Milling, triads, sharing gratitude and challenges, and other activities of that nature don’t erase interpersonal issues. But they do bring the whole community, or much of it, together for meaningful connection. I think that they rekindle and help to create the love, warmth, and caring that exist in the community. That love is something I’m incredibly grateful for; my life feels very rich right now, largely because of that love. I’m surrounded by people who care about each other (even if some of them don’t always like each other), by people I love and who love me. I have close friends. I feel like myself, and I feel free to be whoever I am.
One more thing for now: Lost Valley is the only place I've ever been where I can imagine--no, not only imagine, last night I actually did it in Well-Being--holding my boss's hands, looking into his eyes, and telling him what I think is wonderful about him!