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Ah, What lessons life offers us......

7/13/2015

July 9, 2015

Today, a dear friend gave me a lovely, handmade journal she had made. I don't usually have a habit of writing, but today is the one year anniversary of the brain hemorrhage I experienced last summer while hiking alone in the Northern California Coastal Range.

Needless to say, this was a life changing moment and actually one that I treasure. It truly (literally and figuratively) gave me "pause". I paused because I could not go forward due to the excruciating pain in my head. So I paused, and lay down in a pile of leaves. Immediately, I was in awe of the beauty around me. When I finally did get up to walk the one half mile back to my friend's house, I paused with each step I took. Life became a pause, a focusing, and a step forward. I was experiencing a way of doing life: pause, focus, take a step.

This amazing experience gave me three gifts: the gift of profound gratitude, the gift of understanding death as the next journey, and most importantly, the gift of my lifetime partner Harold. He was there. He was there in every way. He was there for me.

Life gives us amazing gifts. This gift was eighteen hammers pounding in my head. I got the message, and I am eternally grateful. Thank you.

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Taketina in Words: Responses from first-timers at Two Rivers Farm

7/6/2015

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by Chelsea Schuyler

What is Two Rivers Farm?

Decorative gate at Two Rivers Farm

As we turned off a bridge near Aurora, Oregon, I asked Jake, “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I think we’re supposed to look for a rock,” he said, and I laughed. So, rural then.

He handed me the directions, a very long paragraph that included passing a hazelnut orchard, a stand of redwood trees, and orders not to go past the bend in the road. All I knew was that Jake and I were to meet Mary at a place called Two Rivers so they could do Taketina and I could take some photos.

Miraculously, Jake did spot the little rock that marked the entry, and we headed down a long gravel driveway. When we got out of the car, we were greeted by a couple of friendly dogs, and the call of a peacock from just beyond the trees.

There were people bustling about from a two-story house to outdoor picnic tables, collecting dishes from under a large wooden overhang that was being devoured by Concord grapes.

It’s “Work Week” at Two Rivers Farm, a 35 acre refuge who’s members and visitors believe, according to the website, that “people interested in self-development would benefit most from circumstances where real work was demanded.”

This annual gathering brings about 70 people to work on various projects, join in communal meals, and in the evening participate in guest-led workshops and events.

We were led on a tour by Matthew Eveleigh, a nearby resident who had done Taketina once before at Mary’s house and asked that she come and lead a journey at the Farm.

In his soft, welcoming voice, he told us all about the buildings and their various iterations:

A beautiful stone sanctuary that was originally a tool shed; one of the first buildings from 40 years ago that was now used for storing and drying hazelnuts; a community school.

As we walked, goats roamed an apple tree orchard, balancing on hind legs to scarf down as much fruit as they could.

The First Taketina

After the dishes were put away and all was cleaned up, it was time for some 50 people to experience Taketina for the first time. In a large, upstairs room with hanging lights and wood floors, Jake strapped on his drum and bells. As people filed in and sat down, Mary introduced the journey as a way to wonder about why we are here on this Earth.

She explained that sometimes there is flow and sometimes there is chaos, that to “fall out” of rhythm is inevitable and okay. She closed with an intriguing statement, especially for those who had no idea what they were in for:

“How you do Taketina is how you do life.”

View of Mt. Hood from the Taketina space

When everyone stood, Mary guided them into the syllables, the steps, then the impossible but playful games that sent the serious, concentrated group into hysterical laughter. Elders sat in chairs and tapped their feet, younger children giggled and weaved in and out of the line.

“Exaggeration is a great learning tool,” Mary said as she had folks pointing across the room or reaching to the sky before turning the movements into claps. The call-backs began, and the group seemed to relax. They got the flow, until they were immediately thrown off, of course, but they seemed to get used to expecting it.

When it came time to wind down, everybody laid down almost all at once. At first it felt like a clamor, but they settled quickly and continued to sing the call backs, softer and softer until just a murmur could be heard. The murmur of 50 people created quite a beautiful, resonating hum.

After returning to a circle, Mary invited the people to share anything of their experience, and asked with a smile, “So, why on Earth… did Matthew want you all here?” The people chuckled, but no one spoke. The silence hung awhile, and I could feel racing thoughts wanting to burst out of chests, but they all waited to see who would dare speak first. Who would set the tone?

After Taketina – the reactions

Matthew spoke, feeling some obligation:

"The first time [I did Taketina] it was a new idea that chaos could be welcomed. Not only welcomed, but celebrated. That for me is transformative. My first thought was ‘these people have to come to the Farm.’ ”

Another break, until a middle-aged man just near Matthew shared. “There’s something very soothing and ancient, it brought an ancient memory of connection,” he said. “The feeling it created was of joining in on a vibration that was very healing.”

A younger man with long blond hair, tied back in a pony tail, joined in from across the room, “I got to see in myself – what are the impulses, resistance, agreements that arrive in me? – and then be as impartial as I can.” He added after a moment, “I still feel like I’m dancing.”

The idea of letting go seemed to resonate with many in the group. Acceptance within or despite chaos became quite the theme.

A young woman remembered “how much joy it brings me to mess up completely” and another said “I had the support of the group –when I was lost, the others indicated the way.”

“For me to experience chaos with all of you is very comfortable.”
“The fun over-rode the chaos.”
“Self-judgement comes up. Something about doing this tells me [self-judgment] is learned.”
“I was happy to participate with the chaos, and that’s not who I am in life.”

Mary nodded and said, “That’s how children learn, but they don’t see it as chaos.”

Find out more at Two Rivers Farm’s website

An older gentleman spoke from the far side of the room, “Normally I feel like I’m going through life on my own. You [Mary] would do things with your body or your smile and I was like, ‘Damn, this is good!’ I haven’t lived my life in my body, but I sure tried for an hour and a half.”

The group laughed, the conversation could probably have gone on for awhile, but it was getting late. After thank yous both ways, the people began to scatter back to their tents and cars and homes. I couldn’t help but wonder what other insights would be shared from this contemplative community in the coming days.

photos by Chelsea Schuyler

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