http://farmola.wordpress.com/2008/07/05/learning-to-be-us/ a founding member of America's largest, longest-lasting, working commune tells his history Sun, 15 Nov 2009 04:55:08 +0000 http://wordpress.com/ hourly 1 http://farmola.wordpress.com/2008/07/05/learning-to-be-us/#comment-225 Summer jungle « Farmola Mon, 23 Mar 2009 03:07:04 +0000 http://farmola.wordpress.com/?p=33#comment-225 [...] <PREVIOUS *  NEXT> [...] [...] <PREVIOUS *  NEXT> [...]

]]> http://farmola.wordpress.com/2008/07/05/learning-to-be-us/#comment-75 Don James Tue, 05 Aug 2008 18:06:20 +0000 http://farmola.wordpress.com/?p=33#comment-75 It's always nice to hear the feelings of people who were trying to live from their hearts. That was what moved me to join. The ideas part were difficult for me. I just believed what Stephen said and it moved me in ways that I couldn't understand at the time. It's like I had to grow into it. Grow into my own soul. And that process continues. I'd have to say that from a feeling level, I was able to grasp the essence of what was going on there. It was tangible for me (and I'm sure for others). I remember sitting at the gatehouse tripping about one thing or another and being brought into focus by what felt to me to be an almost visible energy, what felt to me like love emanating from the wood itself, right up out of the ground even. It stopped my tripping and all of my thought processes and it was, and remains a standalone kind of memory that is as vivid now as it was then. It’s always nice to hear the feelings of people who were trying to live from their hearts. That was what moved me to join. The ideas part were difficult for me. I just believed what Stephen said and it moved me in ways that I couldn’t understand at the time. It’s like I had to grow into it. Grow into my own soul. And that process continues. I’d have to say that from a feeling level, I was able to grasp the essence of what was going on there. It was tangible for me (and I’m sure for others). I remember sitting at the gatehouse tripping about one thing or another and being brought into focus by what felt to me to be an almost visible energy, what felt to me like love emanating from the wood itself, right up out of the ground even. It stopped my tripping and all of my thought processes and it was, and remains a standalone kind of memory that is as vivid now as it was then.

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