inside the spiral

inside the spiral

question mark door, rites of passage

find sanctuary

The first sign you see after you enter the grounds of OUR Ecovillage says "Beware of the Dog." Later, we learn that the dog is not a vicious guard dog but rather an old black dog, and the sign is a warning to watch out for him when you're driving because he can't see or hear you. This is the kind of surprises that pervade OUR Ecovillage. 

Like the Sanctuary House, the first building you see when you come down the drive into the intentional, permaculture-based, sustainable community on Vancouver Island. The curvaceous structure looks like a hobbit house overlooking a little pond, and this is where four of us stay for three nights. In addition to being a guesthouse, it's also a place for meetings, meditation, spiritual rituals, and rites of passage such as birth, marriage and death. The sign on the front door does not announce the purpose of the structure, but instead says, "Please use the side door." 

The second night we're here, while everyone else is at a hatha yoga class, I'm surprised to hear a knock on the front door. I peek through the round window into the dark and see a woman carrying a sleeping toddler. She and her husband have just arrived from England for a six-month stay and they think this must be the office. "The office is up the hill," I say. "You can drive there." But she says they don't have a car, someone dropped them off. They don't have any luggage, not even a backpack. "I don't suppose you have a flashlight?" She looks puzzled, then the light dawns, "Oh, you mean a torch? No, sorry." So I tell her to meet me at the other door where I put on my shoes and then guide them up the steep path lined with oyster shells that gleam in the moonlight. The office is dark except for one light, and that's where we finally find someone who can take care of the new arrivals.

Nicki and I share the room in the Sanctuary House with the spiral question mark door. Right after we first arrive, our entire group gathers there for a group meditation. It's very silent and deep. A lot of blessings have been bestowed on this dwelling. There are little altars everywhere. Two alcoves are adorned with natural clay paintings of the sun and moon, a dream catcher over one bed and a beautiful feather placed in a knothole.

A wood stove wrapped in clay divides the living room from the rest of the house. By the entrance a "truth wall" shows the straw behind the clay plastered walls. A sign at the door requests that you remove shoes at the entrance to protect the floors made of clay mixed with bits of straw, and there are instructions in the bathroom on how to squeegee the shower wall to protect the oil finished clay plaster.

In the woods nearby I discover a cracked plate. A mystery. How did it get there? A broken circle, yet my mind's eye fills in the gaps, making it an unbroken circle. The Japanese have a tradition called kintsugi or kintsukuroi of repairing broken ceramics by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that the object becomes more beautiful after it has suffered damage and been made whole again. In this case, Nature has restored the beauty of this plate by filling in the cracks, not with inert metal but with living grass.