by Martha Mott-Gale
A day at Shepherd’s Nine, for me, has the perfect balance of structure and freedom and of stimulating community and peaceful solitude.
I wake in my tent to birdsong and the fresh smells of earth and the woods. I open the tent flaps to the sun, go down the steps of the platform and along a well worn path to the old farmhouse for breakfast with friends old and new.
The morning classes are down the hill in the Pavalon, open to the air, protected by a vaulted roof, with a smooth floor for stretching, rolling, dancing. I forget my body’s limitations while the teacher and the music take us to another place. Sometimes we move as a group , sometimes we have our own experience.
In the free time before dinner I might want to talk with someone, or I might just read or write in my tent or go off and sit on a rock. If I have a task, I feel I can do it easily, since we’re working together.
I love the laughter and enjoyment of the meals, but I also cherish the quiet times. When life seems too complicated back in “the world”, I remember the afternoons lying on my cot with nothing to think of but the soft breeze and sounds of summer. I find my real self in this simplicity, see truths about my life that I carry with me.
Later I go to the old schoolhouse for an art class and amaze myself, get immersed like a five year old. Or I might go float in the lake, or share poetry in a group. In the distance I hear people practicing recorders in the music building.
At night Playtime at the Pavalon lets loose all the inspiration of the day. The pianist plays, and we are taken out of our little selves and into the music. Sometimes we drift out onto the Rhythm ground and disappear into the dusk. If it’s a full moon, some of us stay afterward and watch the moon rise above the mountain, then howl. When I go to sleep, I hope for a gentle rain on the tent roof or a bit of wind to make it feel cozy inside.