Ode to Community Life

After my vacation to Burning Man and my visit back to SoCal, I returned to Mt. Madonna and looked around (and it really was “around”, because I live in a dome now!) Standing in my new living space, I had the sensation that I had truly come home. I’m not sure if I've been so content or so clear about my intention to be in a place as I feel right now. I’m generally peering into the distance of time or space, planning my next move, rushing through, or lamenting the loss of a past version of my life. I really miss and love my friends in San Diego—I know we have something special and unique, our own community of music, dance, art; emotional support and intelligent conversation; spontaneity, silliness, and fun. That life is irreplaceable and I’m not comparing because it’s not possible! (And anyway, it still exists.) But sometimes I have loved it too much and have slipped too far inside and I know that too. I have a deep-seated hatred of waste, so I cringe when I see my life and my environment turn to excess and I know I can only hold myself responsible. So, if life at Mt. Madonna had a cheerleading squad, I’d be on it right now. And to clarify for those who’ve asked as well as for myself, here’s why I’d praise it:

1. I feel safe here. I feel safe physically, emotionally, financially, and spiritually. This is numero uno…a precious quality that allows for growth and facing anything that comes up head-on and with confidence. My dad pointed out that up here, I don’t have much stress. I argued that really it gets quite frenetic and stressful here at times (it really does!), but then he clarified himself and said, no, I mean, you don’t have many worries there. And it’s true. There’s always food, shelter, beauty, and truly supportive people around. It’s abundantly safe. And feeling safe is required for growth.
2. OUTDOOR SHOWERS! I might miss this the most when I leave Mt. Madonna. During the first shower I took at my new Gnome Dome, I watched as the mist evaporated up the canyon while 3 deer watched lazily from their seats just off my deck. Another shower I used had its platform nestled in a small circle of redwoods and the shower head attached to one of the giant trees. And there are more! I can’t tell you how beautiful, sensual, natural, and sexy these showers feel. They make my day.
3. I have interactions with animals in their natural habitat every day and probably a really unique experience once a week or so. A few: I watched a small skunk overpower a big raccoon once, running so fast into the raccoon that the skunk’s tiny back feet came off the ground! And once, while driving just outside the Center gates, a deer literally flew over the hood of my car! He didn’t dent it at all, but left a visible mark in the wet dust across my hood showing his trajectory. Or just the family of wild turkeys—parents and miniature babies in tow—that traipsed past my house almost daily in the summer. I like that they remind me that I am sharing my home with other creatures which live totally different lives. I am not watching them in the space we have given them, but instead I am allowed to live in peace in my own life next to theirs…it’s humbling and sweet. It’s community life on the grand scale.
4. Interacting with people of all ages and discussing all manner of topics with utmost regard. I have discussed mescaline with an 83 yr old woman; the sadness trees may feel with a 4 yr old; the details of listening and letting go with your romantic partner with a guy with whom I would not even consider a close friend. I can easily sit down to breakfast and launch into a deep discussion about anything, and deep is my favorite conversational quality, other than silly, which also happens pretty frequently, usually out of the unprecedented social situations in which we find ourselves here. I mean, you sort of have to make up the rules as you go because you don’t usually have prior experience with people that communicate primarily with a 2x3” chalkboard, or prior work experience with crews that have no idea what they are doing (including yourself) because burying dead foxes just hadn’t entered the work resume until now. It requires that you jump in and do things you aren’t particularly good at (as far as you know), which is really important for me as I get older and more prone to shying away from unfamiliar things and thus becoming rigid.
5. The intensity. Okay, this is a mixed blessing at times, because you really have to remember to take time out to nourish yourself and process or else you can burn out. I feel up here that there is no running away…the things I normally use to distract myself from the deeper issues broiling away just aren’t as available up here. So it’s me and the skeletons; me and the shadows; sometimes it’s even me and my light and radiant self…and even that is intense! But I thrive on intensity (perhaps we all do? Maybe we all seek divine and mind-blowing experience—it’s the realness we crave…) and I can find it here, safely.
6. The view. It is absolutely breath-taking sometimes. No, it is almost always breath-taking. If it’s not the silhouettes of the giant redwoods, it’s the soupy fog lifting, or the curving coastline and the town of Monterey 25 miles away, or the blinding brilliant sunset streaking the sky coral and purple and magenta. Seriously. I feel blessed just walking around.
7. The smell of the sandalwood incense wafting way down from the temple and into every nook and cranny. Before I came here, it was one of my favorite scents. I almost cried once when it worked its way into the dish room and up my nose, over the smell of the dish detergent and bleach I was scrubbing away with. It seems to be everywhere, even when I can’t see it.