In the middle of walking through a wooded forest, I became
aware that I was in a dream.
Tree after tree passed of seemingly infinite wooded trunks
passed as I trudged forward along a rocky pathway. Behind them, huge rocks
emerged, occasionally giving way to a view of a forested landscape beneath. I
was already high up on the mountainside, but I continued to walk uphill.
Ahead, there was a series of cabins. As I continued, I
noticed others. I tried entering one of the cabins, but a man up on the balcony
let me know that I wasn’t allowed to enter.
He pointed to a building up ahead, where I noticed others
were walking. “That building,” He said. “That’s where you want to go.”
I followed his finger. A cabin that was wider than the rest
was up ahead. I followed in the direction his fingertips faced as others still
gravitated, forwards, forwards.
Passing a few cabins on the way, I entered the door of the
wide cabin.
The walls were grey in a softly lit room. The walls were
lined with pots and pans, and a counter against the back wall. The counter
continued through a small walkway, giving way to a sink.
In the middle of the room, there was a table lined with
chairs. Several people sat and stood in the small clearing before the kitchen,
talking, moving, holding up various objects.
The dream comes to a close, fading to a soft black. I awaken
with only the memory of its warmth.
Breathing in, I find myself in the present.
I stand in the very room I visited in my dream nearly a
month before I had ever physically been there before. Drawing in a silent
breath, or barely breathing at all, I felt the tears begin to well.
The place in my dream.. It's
real.
The walls, the floor, the kitchen and the tables. They all
vibrated with a familiar frequency, a warm hum that seemed to stir the very
core of my soul.
I was called here.
ONE YEAR AGO
A listing for an established Ecovillage caught my eye as I
browsed the ic.org website, daydreaming about a better way of living... After finding out my Morgellons disease was caused by an extreme sensitivity to GMO foods, I found
myself being pulled away from life in the city. I was also pleasantly
surprised to find it was nearby where I lived currently, with my boyfriend of several years in
Indiana.
After writing up the
application and discovering I didn’t have the stamps needed to send it, I
tucked the application away in another bag, soon forgetting about it.
Living in the city had been very difficult for me. Looking
back from where I am now, it’s apparent to me that I will probably never go
back to living in the city. Life had become quite hostile for me as I struggled
to fit into a society in which I felt alien.
My extreme GMO sensitivity was only the beginning of my
reasons for being drawn away from society…
Not being able to blend in has been a curse in many ways,
because those who don’t blend in or feel like they belong with others frequently
become targets of abuse. At that time, I was threatened at my job, bullied by a
roommate of mine, and was yet again targeted by my dad. I was then told that it was
my fault my father abused me by another bully.
Emotionally crippled but too powerless to create change, I
would daydream about moving to intentional communities even though the entire
concept of being safe was completely foreign to me.
Afraid and tired of being emotionally battered, I found
myself withdrawing from the world, though planting seeds for connection through
small means; mainly, by sharing whatever spiritual insights I was receiving at
the time to others.
The experiences of extreme illness and abuse in many ways forced
me to question the entire reality I found myself in. I found that by seeking to
understand and make sense of my own life I was able to better understand the
world at large.
Though physically I had changed location, emotionally I found myself in a very similar space months later.
One night, I found myself alone. I was doing my own thing as
I ran back and forth between rooms while listening to music.
I went into my
bedroom, contemplating the direction I was headed in life but too scared to do
anything about it. At the time, it seemed like all I could do was become a sex
worker in the hopes that the money would give me the sort of security I longed
for.
So I was running back and forth, getting dance gear and
putting on costumes, when I walked in the living room.
Right in the middle of the living room floor lay a piece of
paper.
How did that get
there? I wondered as I approached. I certainly hadn’t moved it.
Walking closer, my breath stopped for a moment.
I hadn’t thought seriously about the Ecovillage in
months, yet there the application lay on the middle of the floor, having moved,
somehow, completely on its own.
It was a sign. One that I did not logically understand. After all, how
could I? There was no explanation for something that was at its core,
mysterious.
But on the other hand this feeling of being a round stick that could not, for the life of me, fit into a
square hole, had always been in the undercurrents of every attempt I made
to be a functioning member of society.
It seemed like the piece of paper lay there as an answer to
my questioning... a subtle nudge, saying, try
this instead.
But… My logical
mind said… How am I going to get there?
I’m not strong enough. I have terrible anxiety. And I don’t know what I’m
doing… I have no experience working on a farm, how the hell do I expect to be
any help? I’m just going to be a burden…I have so many things to take care of
before going. What’s the point of doing it if I am going to fail?
For months, I sat with those thoughts. Following the nudge
was at the back of my mind. I felt guilty at times, for being afraid of
trusting Spirit. There had been many times I had received guidance before, but
I had always been afraid. I had been talking about it for a long time, but I
had been terrified at the same time. Who wouldn’t be? At that point in my life,
I had basically learned through my life experiences that I was doomed to being
perpetually abused or exploited for resources.
I knew if I had to endure much more emotional trauma than I
had already experienced in the past, I would snap. Every day it seemed I was
closer to committing suicide… It seemed only a matter of time before my demons
would get the better of me.
One day, the thought occurred to me that I didn’t want to
live in such a way. The ecovillage entered my mind again, a symbol of hope. It was time for me to put my words into action.
What more did I have to lose?
We began to exchange emails. I was invited to the monthly
potluck on Sunday, and so I decided to make the three-hour drive to visit.
Even then, I still tried to talk myself out of it. I was
terrified, of wanting something that badly. It scared me to want something with
my entire being. The thought of not being able to have the only thing that I
truly wanted scared the hell out of me.
A quick jolt from the universe snapped me right back to the
importance of taking the plunge. A near death experience brought the awareness
right back to me.
This is your one life.
there is no other chance but now to follow your joy.
I had been resisting being stripped bare. I think that night
I realized that I didn’t want to die without experiencing ‘coming back home’ to
myself. I had to at least try.
In a society where the
oddball is bullied, in a society where the artist is silenced, in a society
where sensitivity is punished, I did not belong.
On the drive there, I thought about all the things I had
lived through… abuse… bullies… sickness.
I was ready for release. I wanted to know if life had more
to offer me, or if I was damned to keep reliving my past forever.
After a long drive of music, miles upon miles of wooded
hills, and farmland, I turned into the entrance, a small dusty road next to a
small cemetery and church. A few dogs were barking, and a girl with wavy brown
hair was walking along a dusty pathway as I tentatively rolled forward.
“Can I help you?” She asked, smiling warmly.
My voice was quiet from the long drive as I tried to squeakily ask for where to go. The girl directed me
to a building that was larger than the rest. I could feel the deja vous creeping up
Soon I found myself opening the door to the building she had
shown me, and instantly recognized the room I found myself in as the same from
my dream. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, but wanting to be brave, I held them in.
I made it, I felt with awe. I finally made it.
I stood in the doorway in awe for what seemed like ages, in complete
disbelief that this was my life; that any of it was real, that any of it was
happening.
…But it was.
I slowly walked up to a girl and nervously told her I was
here for the potluck, and apologized for being late. She directed me over to
the food, apologizing that most of it was picked over. I looked, and there was
nothing left but a bit of coconut milk made with turmeric. I smiled. I wasn’t
really hungry anyways, and I could feel the tears building up, blurring my
vision as we continued to walk.
A mild hum of chatter and laughter filled the clearing.
Children ran back and forth, as others were talking amongst each other in small
groups. Seeing it all through the water, it felt as if I was seeing the world
through a haze. I quietly sat down.
The girl who had helped me find food began talking with me…
I tried to respond but soon I found myself crying, saying I couldn’t believe
there’s another way of living. There was a bit of silence as we both sat and
watched the other people interacting.
Some of the others asked if I wanted to help out the next
day. I nodded, smiling through the tears.
We spent the day planting tiny sprouts of onions. My muscles
ached and pulsated, sore from the simple task of digging my hands in the dirt
while squatting. The sun shone from above as clouds migrated with the soft
breeze.
The community members asked if I would stay past lunch. I
nodded.
We talked out in the fields. Words flew and floated around,
words about love, words about farming, words about life… somewhere, between the
work of moving the dirt and random joking and teasing, I found a newfound sense
of calm that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
They asked if I was going to stay for dinner. “I should
really go home sometime soon,” I giggled.
Everyone casually joked that I would never end up leaving.
But I had already decided this was where I wanted to be, and in order to stay I
needed to make preparations. I departed that night.
Change, and more change. Everything was moving but for the
first time in years I knew what I wanted; it became a sort of center that I
could reside in. I sense the fear within myself as a fluttering pulse; one that
was nervous at being completely immersed in a new experience, but equally
excited. It felt distinctly different from the other kind of fear that came from
being around dangerous individuals.
Finally, I began to open my eyes, and see.
* * *
I was stunned when I came back from this amazing experience
and was almost immediately estranged from my love of five years. I
wanted the sort of connection where someone wanted to understand me, as much as
I wanted to understand them. Our relationship became increasingly strained over
the next few weeks.
For so many years I had been resisting seeing that I was not
going to get this sort of connection with him. At the end he was saying things
with the intent of hurting me.
I couldn’t help but be reminded of the wise words, to love someone is to take them in as yourself. He was hurting me because he was hurting himself.
* * *
The smell of soil and sweet hay fills the air as droplets
fall to the ground in all directions. There’s
a word for that… petrichor.
I am covered in mud and the reverberating echo of rainfall
rushes towards the earth. My hands are nearly numb and my breath shudders in
the air around me.
Where am I?
I look through droplet speckled glasses as the quiet roar of
rain settles on a lush, hilly landscape. I am on my knees at the end of a row
of muddy soil raised above the rest. I use my hands to move the soil aside,
planting an onion.
I remember everything that has happened in the past week and
everything comes back to me. Mentally I remember: You are Tessa. You moved to an ecovillage and are learning how to farm. Your first love left you shortly before coming here
I feel a sting of pain in my heart that hurts more than all
the cold rain in the world.
This is your life now.
Even through the pain, I feel a serenity that pervades my
entire being.
I dig my hands in the soil yet again. I want the soil to
shape me. I want the earth and mud to mix with my very core. I want my very
soul to be shaped by nothing more than the very ground that my own feet have
treaded upon; the same soil which everyone I have ever known has treaded upon.
As their footsteps have shaped the earth, I want the earth to shape me.
There is no difference between the droplets
streaming down upon the earth and my tears. We are one.
By the water, I am held.
~to be continued~
