I’ll admit it; I was skeptical at first. I wasn’t exactly sure what a “spiritual community” entailed, and I wasn’t sure if I bought it, whatever it was. My cynicism and weariness regarding self-proclaimed counter-culturalists, anarchists, hippies, and their ilk led me to approach the Lama Foundation with some degree of hesitation and judgement. Based on my interactions with disgruntled youths and unmotivated derelicts, I was anticipating a bevy of unshaven, hemp-laden, self-important bohemians, holding hand and singing Kumbayah, or else eager to expound upon the many ills of modern society, technology, government, etc. As we stood in the early morning light, stung by the bitter wind which whipped angrily about the mountaintop, Joe, our friendly guide, informed us that we would first participate in a short (thirty minute) group meditation. I struggled not to roll my eyes and scoff at the suggestion. I had never attempted to meditate, and had never exactly seen the appeal. Nevertheless, as we sat in the great octagonal room, perched upon round cushions, I tried to relax and clear my mind. It seemed an impossible task as my brain refused to cease its perpetual rumination, and it continued to scour the contours of my memory in search of amusing tidbits to keep me occupied in the utter silence. Luckily for me and my ever-active brain, kindly Joe cut our meditation short to allow us to introduce ourselves and proceed on to breakfast.
Upon reaching the dining area, we were greeted by a motley group of hippies from all walks of life: overzealous young people with ample facial hair, wizened old women with kind features, and everything in between. This greeting might have solidified my predetermined antagonism had I not been surprised by the warmth with which we were inducted into the group. Before eating, we all held hands while one member of the community led us in a song (not Kumbayah perhaps, but close). Then we were invited to eat the ample breakfast provided for us. During the meal, the community members approached us with curiosity and kindness, expressing their pleasure at having us as guests. I had anticipated a clan of bitter, opinionated hemp heads who would either be too blazed to engage me in conversation, or else would eye me with scorn as if they could tell that I ate meat, occasionally enjoyed TV, and sometimes shaved my legs. However, the after being met with such an amicable and welcoming reception, I was suddenly ashamed of my judgmental outlook. It appeared I had been wrong about who exactly was the bitter one.
After breakfast, we returned to the octagonal room, this time with all of the Lama residents. Sebastian, a bearded redhead with glasses and a charming smile, invited us to listen to a song, in order to appreciate the intricacy of the music, the feelings which it aroused, and the process of listening in general. We sat in silence for a few minutes as he played a lively yet somehow heartrending melody sung in a language I didn’t understand. When it was over, we formed small groups to discuss our experiences while listening. In my group, a tall, boney boy with an eyebrow ring explained an internal checklist he assess every time he hears a new piece of music. Another man attempted to voice the powerful emotions which the piece evoked in him. I shared a memory, long dormant, which the music and awoken in me.
We then turned our attention back to the whole group for the daily practice of “heart tuning.” Everyone went around in a circle and said a few words about how they were feeling in whichever way they felt appropriate. People shared a few words, some serene and pleasant, others marked by pain and sadness. Others recited verses of poetry or sang short songs to convey their state of being. When it was my turn to speak, I was surprised by how easily and comfortably I was able to share with the group. Speaking in front of people, particularly candidly and with little preparation, often leaves me gripped with anxiety and dread. However, all I felt was the welcoming and accepting atmosphere created by the residents.
After the group disbanded to take on their various responsibilities for the day (cooking lunch, cleaning the alters scattered around the grounds, washing the meditation pillows, etc.) Joe led us to the campgrounds, where visitors slept during summer retreats. As our contribution to the community, we helped clear off the tent sites and cover them with hay to make them more comfortable. After only a few hours of work, the sun had come out, we had stripped off our coats and scarves and were sweating in our t-shirts. We were more than ready when we heard the bells chiming to signal lunch time. The residents had cooked an authentic Thai lunch, which turned out to be one of my favorite meals of the entire trip. While we ate, we mingled with the others and heard the stories of how they arrived at Lama. Again, I was impressed with their openness and willingness to share their stories, as well as hear our own.
When it was time to go, many of us had fallen so in love with the community that we were ready to move in. Despite my initial hesitation, even I was sad to go, although I certainly would have missed indoor plumbing had we stayed much longer. Although I may not ever really grasp the point of meditation, Lama certainly helped me shed some of my unfounded and unwarranted antagonism.
-Leslie Reynolds
-Leslie Reynolds
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