It didn’t take long for me to find my groove in this place. I seem to be built for places like this. My father raised me with a deep connection to the landscape, something I’ve taken for granted most my life, but in recent years have come to be grateful for. I was raised with the notion that the best therapy for the soul is to get outside, chop wood, swing a hammer, and build something greater than your self. On the second day I was already immersed in what my father terms ‘puttering’ something that passes the time, isn’t overly strenuous and is a working mediation of sorts.

And this is how I came to pass my time up at Prajna. The days working idly away creating door handles from twisted roots, or shelving for Roshi’s room, and the evenings eating fabulous organic meals and then drinking tea while having talks by the firelight. No TV, no radio, no static from the outside world… only forest mountain silence, howling coyotes, and the ebb flow of the wind crawling down the mountainside.

Some days we all puttered and were left to our own devices, while other days we came together to roam the land that makes up the refuge discussing ideas of where campsites, bathhouses, gardens and water cisterns may be located in the future. Either this or short excursions to trees covered in bear claw markings... All of us vibrating with good energy and thinking up beautiful ideas while Roshi often lead the way.

On the way up to this refuge of a place I blew out my knee pretty badly and it took the first few days to recover. Then in a fit of madness I decided on the second to last day to hike down with Marty to pick up some clay plaster from Hal's and greet incoming arrivals Lisle who was on the return having left a couple days before, Dyanna a filmmaker, and Carol Ann assistant filmmaker.
I then had the pleasure of reliving the pain from the days before.. my knee was in rough shape upon my return and the trek out the following day began to look like fantasy. And so it was the following morning that everyone except Maria and I left for Santa Fe. I was left to putter to my hearts content, take care of Marty's cats, and enjoy the vast solitude of this magnificent place. Not a bad deal, it would almost seem part of a grander plan working in my favor. Roshi in seeing my pain and suffering (which is likely nothing compared to her own process) says "Remember, pain is made up of non-pain elements." I've been thinking a lot about that since, and it seems to me that it refers to many types of pain as well, be it emotional, physical, mental or spiritual. All of these when you think about them are made up of non-pain elements, and much of our pain is based on, or the result of our perception. But what I am also grateful for is the way in which our bodies slow us down at times, force us to reflect, or in my case hold us captive in places we long to stay for whatever the reason.

One of the other things Roshi said that has stuck with me regarding my journey the road ahead and relationships, "Not knowing... is most intimate." I've been thinking of that one too lots since my visit.

Once left alone I busied myself polishing stones for Marty, planting starter seeds for the summer garden and building a compost that will process both organic food waste and humanure. Nothing is to be wasted in this place, since in its remoteness everything becomes of potential value and is not to be taken for granted. The vision that has been developing is a vision of a place that is both informed by nature as well as a part of it. A place that grows as the landscape feeds the people on a multitude of levels and ways.

In the last few days when not puttering I took the weight off my knee and read about gardening in a great book called the Self-Sufficient Gardener, and cracked open The Walk by William DeBuys one of my recent interviews. I'm enjoying both books immensely and can't wait to get back to my relationship with them.

In preparing to leave and head back to Santa Fe with Maria on Tuesday morning I found myself feeling grungy having not bathed in a week, but also filled with an unshakable contentedness and deeply grounded. There would usually be sadness at leaving a place like this, but I have already vowed to return next week after some interviews, once the knee has healed, to help build a solar shower.

I'll be back before the coyote or elk even notice that Moses and I were gone ;-)

peace,d