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Light Morning |
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Those of us who have made Light Morning our home are deeply immersed in the rhythms and routines of a rural, communal lifestyle. Welcoming guests, from April through October, is one of those rhythms. We also have a strong inward focus. As pleasurable and rewarding as the outer lifestyle is, something less tangible drew us together, and has kept us together through the years. Season of Changes Our roots go back to Virginia Beach in the early 1970's. The teachings of Edgar Cayce, the so-called "sleeping prophet," had been preserved there, and Virginia Beach had become a Mecca for many of the hungry, restless souls who were on the road in those days. In June of 1973, a small group of us were drawn to a woman with a gift similar to Cayce's. The guidance received through this source, in the form of "readings," was woven into our first book, Season of Changes: Ways of Response. Live close to the Earth, the
readings urged, in small communities of cooperation. Practice the inner
arts of dream work, meditation, and prayer. Above all, become conscious,
willing participants in the unfolding drama of these increasingly
tumultuous, yet uniquely opportune times.
Free State Creek The Appalachians are old--the oldest mountain range on Turtle Island (one of the indigenous names for this continent). They stretch some 1,500 miles from Canada to Alabama. Thrust up toward the end of the Paleozoic Era, they displaced an inland sea, and have spent the past 200 million years being gentled by the elements. In Virginia, the range is known as the Blue Ridge Mountains. We live on several of their
south-sloping ridges, surrounded on three sides by a deep gorge, at the
bottom of Because the mountains are so old, and because this lower portion was spared the glaciers of the last Ice Age, we are blessed with a rich diversity of plants and animals--bobcats, chipmunks and white-tail deer; tulip poplars, locust, oaks, and maples; skinks, copperheads, and snapping turtles; wild turkeys, ravens, kingfishers, and bluebirds; and raspberries, trillium, and ginseng, to mention just a few of our many neighbors. Family Meals When we first came to Light Morning we were half a dozen adults and two children. Over the years, different ones of us have come and gone, and visitors have passed through, but the size of the community's nucleus has remained fairly constant. In many respects we are more like a family than a community. Our current ages range from sixteen to sixty-two. Most of us live, work and play here pretty much full time. This runs counter to some powerful trends which have fragmented the modern family--public schools for the young, nursing homes for the old, and segregated workplaces for the adults, not to mention all the car miles devoted to shopping and entertainment. One of the primary binding spells for our family has been family meals. These daily gatherings not only allow us to enjoy the simple vegetarian fare we prepare for one another, but also provide us with the essential luxury of shared time. We tell dreams over breakfast, exchange work stories at noon, and often use the supper hour to solve problems, air grievances, and catch up on each other's thoughts, insights, and feelings. Keeping a common table is important for a less visible reason as well. Eating together means working together--another potent binding spell. Since we share food, we don't need separate gardens. And because we like our food fresh and organic (in other words, home grown), the garden is large. Then there are the orchards, grape vines, and berry bushes to tend; the produce to be preserved as the days grow short and the nights turn cool; the shelter to be built and cared for; and the firewood for cooking and for warmth--all the many ways in which common table generates common labor, with its own set of challenges and pleasures.
Friends and
Neighbors
In the early years,
there was a torrent of visitors. Five hundred one summer. Most had
learned of us through Season of Changes, or by word of mouth.
They were driven by hard times--this was the era of Watergate, Vietnam,
fuel lines, and food shortages--and by the same inner restlessness which
had caused us to move to Virginia Beach and to become involved with the
readings. As we helped each other build houses (and occasionally watched them burn), as we assisted at the births (or grieved for the deaths) of each other's children, and as we celebrated birthdays, weddings, and the slow passage of the seasons, the ties grew deep and strong. The county as a whole experienced a similar influx. It used to be that we knew, or at least
knew of, all the other "newcomers" who moved into this
agrarian, single-stoplight county. Many became close friends--a further
weaving of the wider family. Now, however, there are Once, in a dream, this multitude has assembled in a large auditorium for the purpose of trying to articulate what common desire has drawn everyone to this obscure county. Hours of often tedious debate ensue. Finally, in despair of this endeavor ever bearing fruit, I walk outside. Standing in the fresh air, and with no premeditation, I ask the first person I meet, "Have you talked with your god lately?" It doesn't matter particularly what this person's concept of god is, or what they might be talking about together. I just want to know if a dialogue is going on. "Yes," comes the reply, after a moment's pause. "The day before yesterday." The words ring true. I nod and smile. Then, taking the response as a good omen, I walk back inside the auditorium. A
Closer Look continued: Top of Page Back to Brief Intro
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which runs Free State Creek. Free State flows into Goose
Creek, which helps form the South Fork of the Roanoke River, which meanders
to the Atlantic Ocean. Rain falling on the next ridge over, though,
follows the Little River to the New, the Ohio, the Mississippi, and on
to the Gulf of Mexico.
hundreds upon hundreds already here, and more keep arriving. It's
feeling as though
that strange, serendipitous impulse that brought us here must still be
at work.