In July, when I chose the theme for this issue--"Transformation: Endings and Beginnings"--I had little idea of what transformations lay in store. Some transformations were already well under way at Lost Valley--a very large turnover in the makeup of our resident community, for example. Others, including two deaths among our circle of close friends and family, came as great shocks. And the change within the US political system that I hoped would be ushered in on November 2 took a decidedly different turn from what I had in mind.
The late-summer/autumn season itself was full of transformations, which delayed my work on this issue until early November. Some were seasonal: in the months of September and October, we brought in the harvest from the summer crops, and when those were killed by frost, we replanted the garden beds with wintertime vegetables. Until the garlic, winter salad greens, and cover crops are in, autumn gardening is a race against the rain--and fortunately (because I delayed magazine work), we won that race again this year. The beautiful transition from summer's green/brown lushness to autumn's multicolored tapestry (parts of it migrating from twig-tip to ground), and from long, warm, dry days to short, colder, wet ones, was the backdrop to all this garden-related activity.
Community life here was also unusually busy and full of change, in part because of the relatively high degree of staff and resident turnover this year. We needed to make many decisions about who was to be here, how things would get done, and other community and business matters. We held a series of reviews of new and prospective members, and started our visioning process for the coming year. We found that, when a departure resulted in a newly-unmet need within the community or within the business, someone generally appeared who was excited about meeting that need, and able to do so. We have been very fortunate to have attracted a number of enthusiastic interns, as well as new prospective community members, who have stepped into the breaches left by the departure of several long-term members. We are exploring new facets of organizational development, refining our educational programs, and also developing new capacity within the events center for next year. On the physical plane, the grounds and facilities have undergone extensive transformation this year, thanks to the dedication and love of many who have joined us with a desire to share their skills and passions in beautification, cleaning, and ecological work. These changes included a new swale and improved pathway next to the meadow area on the way to the creek; spruced-up, deeply-cleaned, and beautifully painted spaces in many parts of the property; new signs; remodeled offices; and a host of other improvements.
Some of the transformations were also personal. I remember that in the first few weeks of September in particular, self-expression trumped fear on multiple occasions, in several areas of my life, and for this I am very grateful. (Hopefully anyone who received a dose of deepened honesty from me, or who witnessed my overcoming guitar-related stage fright, didn't feel otherwise.) However, communicating, music-making, and being generally happier do not necessarily translate into increased time available for holing up alone with a computer to try to crank out yet another issue of Talking Leaves.
Two deaths hit us this fall. Justin Davis arrived at Lost Valley in mid-August, joining his partner Karly Dillard, who'd spent most of the summer here as an intern. Justin worked tirelessly on the land, scything, doing other important maintenance projects, and also leading the construction of a rock wall/bench/garden area in front of our main lodge. His sense of humor, gentleness, dedication, playfulness, and love for people and the natural world--and the caring he brought to everything he did and to every interaction he had--contributed greatly to our community. I particularly appreciated his musicality; a singer-songwriter-guitarist, he joined me in creating the "Lost Valley Ramblers," who performed at this year's fall Permaculture Gathering in Eugene. On Monday, October 4, just six days after leaving Lost Valley to return to his native Texas, Justin died in an automobile accident when an oncoming vehicle crossed into his lane. He was 26 years old. We will miss him. In this issue, we excerpt some of the journal entries he made during the last few months of his life, and we also include reflections by Karly and several community members upon his passing.
Larry's mother Ruth was also known and loved by many of us. Larry had moved to town in early summer, but he and his family are still near and dear to us here. Ruth was among my favorite "community parents" (as well as an avid Talking Leaves reader). She and Sy brought an unquenchable curiosity and enthusiasm to their visits to their family-away-from home here; and their obvious love for their grandchildren, Matt and Grace, was deservedly reciprocated. Unlike some parents, they fully supported their son's sometimes unconventional choices, which included investing a decade of his life into Lost Valley as he and Karin raised a family here. After a series of health setbacks and a month in a hospital in New Jersey, Ruth died on October 17. We are grateful for her life, and know that she will continue to inspire those of us whose lives she touched.
Several other deaths of people with some association or relationship to Lost Valley or its members also occurred within the last few months. It has been a time of change, a time for grieving and acceptance of the reality of the cycles of life and death.
Because of the intensity of transformation happening this fall, it was not until November 3 that I had any significant time to consider putting together this issue. And because of the election results, I was not feeling particularly inspired about anything that day. In fact, I was downright despondent about the mentality of the US electorate, the state of the world, and the relevance of anything I as one individual was managing to do in my life--including editing this Podunk magazine. Especially since I did not have enough material assembled yet to fill an entire issue, putting together TL seemed more like a burden than a joy on that day. I couldn't even bring myself to write anything, since I wanted to convey something positive and inspiring and almost all of my thoughts that day were dark.
Among the things that helped pull me out of despondency on November 3 were a series of emails I received. The nature of this Talking Leaves issue suddenly became clear to me--it can't be a forced treatise on the wondrous process of transformation, but needs to speak to what we have been experiencing, which has included ample amounts of grief, sorrow, and mourning. Some transformational opportunities are simply no longer possible in the same form they once were. These opportunities are replaced by others, of course, but that doesn't mitigate the immediate loss of loved ones or elections (if indeed the elections were legitimately lost; significant evidence suggests otherwise). The emails I received that day were born out of the pain of recognition that what seems so obvious to many of us is not a shared reality with approximately half of active US voters (give or take a few percentage points, depending on the extent of shenanigans that may have occurred)--and that the world faces the prospect of four more years of a US administration with policies and positions that send chills down many spines. This issue contains some of the writings that helped me see a bigger, more inspiring picture again, and to let go of my attachment to the hoped-for election outcomes that did not materialize. I hope they will do the same for you. The hopes and dreams that many of us brought to November 2, only to have them apparently dashed, do not have to die--they just need to find other forms. Perhaps they will find fuller expression as they continue to transform and evolve.
Other writing in this issue considers transformation from other perspectives. We may be experiencing some "hard times in Babylon" (as Eliza Gilkyson was when she created the stunning CD reviewed on page 36), but that doesn't mean better days are not coming. Please join us in making sure those days become reality.
©2004 Talking Leaves
Winter 2004/2005
Volume 14, Number 4
Transformation: Endings and Beginnings