Just listened to the debate with a group of folks from the community (other groups were gathered in living rooms across the commune). I nearly gagged when Bush said that we aren't responsible for paying attention to the rest of the world, just to our own interests. And I cheered when Kerry acknowledged how ludicrous it is for America to demand that other countries stop producing nuclear weapons while this country continues to research and build them. And overall, I'm left with the feeling that we need to create a change bigger than which white man is splayed all over television and newspapers. We need a dose of real engagement with life...

and in the spirit of change, I share with you an excerpt from a brilliant article:
Baghdad Year Zero
by Naomi Klein
Published in the September, 2004 issue of Harper's Magazine
http://www.commondreams.org/views04/0924-13.htm

A country of 25 million would not be rebuilt as it was before the war; it would be erased, disappeared. In its place would spring forth a gleaming showroom for laissez-faire economics, a utopia such as the world had never seen. Every policy that liberates multinational corporations to pursue their quest for profit would be put into place: a shrunken state, a flexible workforce, open borders, minimal taxes, no tariffs, no ownership restrictions. The people of Iraq would, of course, have to endure some short-term pain: assets, previously owned by the state, would have to be given up to create new opportunities for growth and investment. Jobs would have to be lost and, as foreign products flooded across the border, local businesses and family farms would, unfortunately, be unable to compete. But to the authors of this plan, these would be small prices to pay for the economic boom that would surely explode once the proper conditions were in place, a boom so powerful the country would practically rebuild itself.

The fact that the boom never came and Iraq continues to tremble under explosions of a very different sort should never be blamed on the absence of a plan. Rather, the blame rests with the plan itself, and the extraordinarily violent ideology upon which it is based.

I just finished a 4 hour garden shift on this gorgeous post-hurricane September day. Blue sky, warm sun, squishy mud between my toes as I sank into the ground while cutting broccoli... we certainly haven't perfected the art of communal living, but on days like today it's pretty fucking easy to enjoy life here.

We spent the last hour and a half of the shift weeding and thinning a long bed of carrots. There were six of us spread out in the row together, weeding a patch and then leapfrogging on to the next unweeded section. Early on in the weeding adventure, one person began speaking in Spanish, and soon I was surrounded by conversation I only understood snatches of. "Your mom did what with a duck?" And then when I tried to communicate, it came out half Spanish, half French, peppered with grunts and grumbles of frustration. In high school my friends argued that learning Spanish was going to be more useful in the long run, but I thought French was so romantic and smooth and lovely and I loved the musical Les Miserables and I wanted to go to Paris...

The Spanish conversation eventually turned to stories of random hook-ups, and those of us with stories to tell switched back to English for better communication of juicy details. What started as fun confessions about drunken indiscretions ended up as first-hand accounts of how sketchy it is for women to go home with men met in bars. One woman told us about a time she thought she might have been drugged, and woke up the next morning in New Jersey. We asked the gay man in our group if there was anything like that in the gay male pick-up scene, and he said something that really struck me. "We all look out for each other," he said. "We're bonded through a common experience of oppression. Random men and women who hook up don't have anything like that." Of course, he also said that it's so easy to hook up with other men at gay bars, so there's no need for drugs or coersion. What a different world...

One of my many jobs here is responding to inquiries about the community. I get 10-15 emails a week from folks who want more information about life on the commune. Some are just curious, others want to live here, some are skeptical, and some are writing papers for a college class. I recently got an email from someone who asked, "Don't you think you all are just lying to yourselves about the real world?"

I responded:

thanks for your interest in Twin Oaks. As far as your question about "lying to ourselves about the real world," I think it really requires an exploration of what you consider to be the "real world". Do you mean mainstream Western culture and economics? That would mean that anyone choosing to live outside of those standards is lying to themselves. Monks in monasteries, or tribal cultures in other parts of the world, for example. Are they lying to themselves about the real world?

The media creates an image of the world (primarily through movies, television shows, and corporate news shows) and promotes it as reality. Are reality TV shows really the "real world"? In the reality touted by the media, money and success are the highest ideals. Greed is normal. People compete. Violence is normal. The Earth exists for humans to consume.

It was actually in pursuit of a more REAL world that brought me to live at Twin Oaks. I felt too distanced from the basics of Life as I drove my car through the city and bought food from the grocery store and interacted with people as means to an end, not as people themselves. Every experience is so mediatied! I wanted more connection with the basic pieces of life -- I wanted to participate in providing my own food and I wanted to be engaged in decisions about the world around me. I wanted to understand how things work, not just hire someone to do it for me.

Every time I've worked in the garden since I got your email, I've thought about your question. As I pick zucchini and corn and tomatoes that will be cooked for our dinner in mere hours, I feel more connected to the real world than I ever have before.

the more mundane details might be a more relevant answer for you. We have bills to pay, we drive cars and pay for gas, we run 3 major business and do all of the marketing and "supply and demand" song and dance that any capitalist venture has to do. We buy things from the store and watch movies every weekend. We are certainly not cut off from the great big world. We're just choosing to participate in it differently than what we've been taught is the "right" way by mainstream culture. Don't get those messages confused with reality. So much more is possible...

in joy,
tickledspirit

yesterday we celebrated Autumn Equinox (which was really earlier in the week, but we missed it -- oops!). We all got six hours of "Holiday" labor credits, which is the equivalent of a day off. I had planned on working anyway because I'm saving up my labor credits to take a vacation later this month. Instead, I ended up spending most of the morning and early afternoon soaking up the company of our summer intern (we'll call her Curly Sue), who's parents came to pick her up yesterday. She and I had gotten to be fast friends (she's the one with whom I made popsicles earlier in the summer), and her departure was more of an emotional experience for me than I had expected. I've had friends move away before (especially in college), but never someone who's life was so intertwined with mine. Not just a housemate, not just a coworker, not just a friend; we worked together and lived together and ate meals together and played together for three months straight, every day! And now she's gone back to Ohio to think about whether she wants to move here as a member. She was our conference intern, helping do the logistics organizing for our two major summer conferences, the Women's Gathering and the Communities Conference. She developed deep relationships with many people here, and it's strange to be here without her now. And yet, that's the nature of this place.

Though the average length of stay of our current membership is about 7 years (our longest-term member has been here for 31 years!), there's nevertheless a relatively high turnover rate; ten to twenty people a year. Since about the same amount of people join each year it isn't a huge problem population-wise, but there's a cultural phenomenon that's developed because of it. Long-time members here have told me that they're hesitant to get close with new members because they've had so many experiences of developing friendships with people who end up leaving soon after. In my two years here, this is really my first experience like this; I have close friends here and there are people who have left, but those two groups haven't overlapped (think Venn Diagram) until now.

I want her to come back, and I have NO idea if she will or not. She was being really intentional about not making a decision until she was home and had some perspective. Wise... she's not sure what she will do if she doesn't move here, but it's important to her to consider different options...

The rest of the day I puttered. I don't do much puttering here because there's always so many things I could be doing, both social and work (and often both at the same time). We don't do regular weekends here -- the cows need to be milked every day and dinner needs to be cooked and crops need harvesting and... and... and... But yesterday I was in a quiet mood after Curly Sue left, so I went up to my room and wrote her a letter, then decided to hang up a chair that had been leaning against my wall for awhile. Part of our hammocks business includes making hammock chairs that hang from the ceiling by one harness that splits into four sections that are anchored to the corners of a wooden frame that holds the woven seat. Confused? Here's a picture. Since we make them ourselves, we have a bunch of "seconds" available for community use. I picked one up a few weeks ago, and finally decided to hang it yesterday. I love it! Someday I'll learn to post pictures here and post a photo of my room, hanging chair included. After I got the chair hung, I was on such a roll that I decided to replace the electric drill and wrench for nails and a hammer to and hang up a framed piece of art that had been leaning against another wall for even longer than the chair. That done, I took out my trash and recycling. That done, I made my bed. That done, I organized my desk. That done, I started doing some web design I had been putting off for awhile (I learned html to adjust my blog template, and I got hooked! Thanks, motime!) And the point of this is that I LOVE what I accomplished through puttering! Those certainly weren't my top priorities; I have lots more that I need to be doing, emails that need to be answered and proposals that need to be written about possible new businesses for the community (audio books! and Joe London suggested agritourism... thanks, Joe!), and outreach for the college speaking tour that needs to be organized... And yet, all of the things I did while puttering have significantly improved my quality of life. My room is transformed by the hanging chair and art on the wall, now even more of a sanctuary for me to do the emotional and mental exploration I want to do.

I've already had one brilliant epiphany in there since then: an urban woodworking cooperative! Rent a small space in the city and stock it with woodworking equipment. Members of the collective would pay a small monthly fee to cover rent and equipment maitenance. Wood could be either personally bought or salvaged from construction sites and hardware store dumpsters. There could be monthly classes about equipment use and basic woodworking skills. Why buy furniture from Walmart or IKEA when you can make it yourself? This is a key part of an empowered society: less mediation between the "consumer" and the "product". When you make it yourself, you can't exploit the labor. When you make it yourself, you aren't supporting corporations and rich CEOs. When you make it yourself, you're more connected to the product, more engaged with your world. When you make it yourself, you're empowered to create what you want. When you're empowered to create what you want,

you

are

free...

i hope the drama isn't too much for you; I've been reading a lot of CrimeThInc lately... seriously, the DIY (do it yourself) culture is amazing and I encourage you to check it out. The next time you go to buy something, ask yourself "could I make this?" The answer is probably Yes, if I knew how, and the knowing how is just a matter of finding someone else who knows who's willing to teach you, or a website or a book that has it all laid out. Or just try it yourself, and see what happens...

just in from a birthday bonfire tonight. A gathering of people on benches and plastic chairs drinking box wine and lemonade, eating yellow cake with icing made from granular sugar because we don't have powdered, and a tofu vegan "cheesecake" scooped out of the pan with a spoon as it's passed around the circle. Guitar music constantly in the background as conversations continue, the music sometimes emerging as primary focus, especially when it's an improvised song for the birthday co. ("Co" is our gender-neutral word that is supposedly a pronoun used instead of "he or she", but is often used also to signify a person whose gender doesn't really matter in this circumstance)

I sat on a bench lazily stroking a friend's head, while someone else rubbed my back lightly, and I looked up at the stars and the moon, and I felt the heat from the fire and the chill of the early autumn air, and I listened to my friends playing songs that I vaguely know, and I felt calmly blissful. It wasn't ecstatic bliss that had me arching my back or my eyes lit from within; it was a quiet and still bliss, content and centered. Quiet joy, quiet beauty of Life.

I'm happy here.

I appreciate the opportunity to share with these people on such a deep level. Tonight we celebrated by sharing songs and sweets, after a day of sharing responsibilities and labor. And tomorrow I'll work in the garden to harvest food for our meals while other people from the same bonfire circle will make tofu to earn money to pay our car insurance, and our medical bills. Every day we create more shared experience with each other, and that deepens our connection with every moment shared.

the article about the helicopter came out in the Charlottesville paper today. It's fairly well-written -- though she didn't use any quotes from me! Read it online here.

My favorite part is the quote from the Louisa County sherrif. When the reporter asked him if he had ever had any trouble with Twin Oakers, he replied:

"We wouldn't need any law enforcement if everybody lived like they do at Twin Oaks."

!!! The sherrif preaches the gospel of anarchy!

in other news, I've spent the past day and a half in excruciating anticipation. Two other Oakers and I recently drove up to Baltimore (supposedly a 3-hour trip, but it took us 5 with DC traffic!) for a casting call to be extras in a movie that's being shot this month. After the 5 hour drive (and two near-accidents in rush hour traffic), we stood in line outside the B'more ESPN zone for an hour, headshots in hand. We inched slowly towards the door, trying to edge as close to the building as possible to stay out of the afternoon sun. Makeup! I wore MAKEUP! And I felt like it was melting on my face as I stood on the sidewalk with hundreds of other hopefulls. We were finally ushered inside, into a small room packed with people. There were about 15 people seated at long tables talking with wannabe extras, and when one person walked away, another one jumped into their place to have their minute-and-a-half with the casting agent. When I was next in line, one person walked away from the table and I made eye contact with the casting agent left vacant. As I began to step towards him, another woman rushed forward and handed him her headshot. He shot me a confused look and said, "Weren't you next?" I smiled and shrugged, and told her to go ahead. "No, no, you were next. Come on over!" He told the other woman to wait for the next open agent.

I walked up to him laughing and said, "I don't want to be one of those pushy 'Here I am, make me a star' kind of people." He stared me straight in the eyes and said "Do you want this?" I looked right back and said "Hell yes!" He looked over the form I had filled out and raised his eyebrows. "You're a farmer and an editor?" (it was another one of those cases where I didn't know what to write on the "occupation" line) I laughed and said "yup!" He started giving his schpiel about checking the website to find out if I had been cast, writing something on my sheet while he was talking. I leaned over and asked playfully "what are you writing?" He held it up for me to see.

"Very friendly, great smile"

"Now this doesn't mean anything, but I remember people like you. Check the website after September 1 to find out if you've been picked."

So I checked on September 1 and there was a message that said "we aren't making any decisions until after Labor Day. Check back then." Then I checked after Labor Day and there was another message about wardrobe requirements, if we get chosen as extras. Then yesterday they put up SAG guidelines (the film actors' union), along with a message that says: "We are in the process of choosing now. Please check back frequently." And I've been checking back frequently, about every hour (sometimes twice an hour, I admit... sometimes twice in ten minutes!). It's silly, I know. It would only be as an extra, walking across the set back and forth. But I miss acting, and I miss the acting world. More than being in a movie, I want to be a part of the theatre scene again.

This feeling of "waiting for the cast list to go up" is so familiar to me. In college I'd sit in class with a tightening knot in my stomach, making wild eye contact with others in the class who had also auditioned. We'd run together to the theatre after class and from far away recognize the telltale sheet of paper taped to the glass door. Some people had superstitions about it; they wouldn't go to look with anyone else, they wouldn't talk about the audition until the cast list was posted, they had a certain route to get to the theatre... I just ran, and stared for awhile at whatever words were there. First, scan for my own name. Then the names of key friends. Then, stare for awhile and soak it all in. There was only once in college when I didn't find my name on the list, and that led me into an enormous self-reflection about validity and worth and how much it's determined by others' assesment of me... still working on that one!

and so I wait, still (just checked it again!). You can check it out too, and play along. Pretend like you've auditioned and you're waiting to see if you got the part you really want. Try it out, it's fun.. like watching a horror movie.

we were listening to Fleetwood Mac in the tofu hut yesterday, and I realized...

it's not true! Thunder doesn't only happen when it's raining.

And now the song is stuck mercilessly in my head, as the rain from Hurricane Frances pours outside.

things are quiet, cold, and rainy here after a wild and rich weekend at our annual Communities Conference. I co-facilitated a workshop about Lifestyle Activism which was well-attended and thought-provoking (if I do say so myself!). We talked primarily about resource-sharing and language choices as ways of shifting one's participation in the world. Have you ever done the exercize of noticing how different it feels to use AND instead of BUT? As in:

"I really care about you, but there's something I need to talk with you about" OR
"I really care about you, and there's something I need to talk with you about."

give it a try -- it's amazing. BUT is combative and negating. Saying AND affirms that two things can both exist in the same space, which is my model for the collaborative world I'm passionate about creating.

And, I'm in Love... which is a phrase that has held an entirely different meaning for me in the past, and it's appropriate in this instance, in its new meaning. I'm in a space of Love, in an energy of Love. If Love were a jungle I'd be dancing on the moist moss carpet and swinging on the vines and eating the edible flowers. "In" is the operative word here... I'm immersed in and of Love! If I called you on the phone and you asked me where I was calling from, I'd say "I'm in Love!" just like I'd say "I'm in Cincinnati!"

It's more than the beauty of the other person; it's the space we find together. It's the space behind the door that opens in me when he spins the dial on the padlocked handle. The door just disappears at his touch. Whoosh, and I'm open.

and, there's going to be a calf born tonight. I was watching a video with some friends, including the Dairy manager, and another milker came in to report that Zinnia is showing signs of imminent labor! At that moment, I missed being a milker... I missed the intimate connection with the animals and their lives, being on call all night to check for a calf, seeing the single cow suddenly (or over the course of a few hours) become mamma and baby. And yet, the movie we watched tonight was "Chicken Run", and I couldn't help but see the paralells. Ahh... life in all its complexities. Ahh... love love love....

Here's a link to the blog of a visitor here, Ken, who's going through our three-week visitor program. Funny connection (esp for all you Wittenbergers): this guy was my research librarian in college! He does a great job of giving first impressions on our wacky life here (whereas I can only give you my two-years-in observations).

I just talked with a reporter from a Charlottesville newspaper about the helicopter experience a few days ago. When she asked how I felt about it, I said "I felt like a third grader with a mean substitute teacher".

I woke up this morning to sweet affection with a friend who had spent the night. I was struck by how tender, respectful, sweet, and loving touch can reach into my depths and open me, like a fist unclenching. This kind of touch feels like a distant memory, with most of my romps this summer (quite few, actually) focused more on the physical than the emotional. It was a reminder for me of what I want sex to be, the role I want it to play in my life. I haven't been very sexually engaged this summer, and I think part of that is because I haven't felt the potential for this kind of tender sweetness.

ahhh... real intimate connection! This is what Life is about (I think I had forgotten that).