A different homecoming

Mas Lafont

Through a string of mishaps and events that undid all my careful planning I have found a place where I feel that I belong…. as if there is some benevolent and far more intelligent agent that said "Stop trying to plan everything and just go there." The place is called Mas Lafont. I emailed a link with photos and I know some of you have looked at it. It is a beautiful place, but that is only part of it.

Part of my experience of being here is not knowing exactly what this place is…. it's story… or who is coming through the door next. It would 'help' if I spoke french and could ask lots of questions about everything. "Who are you?  What do you do? Where are you from? What's the plan?" Many people come through the door. I do know that my host, Alain owns this property, that he is recently divorced and that he has decided to create a center for retreats and workshops here. Much beyond that and I am just a happy idiot.

Regarding the place:  Mas, in French means 'country place/farm'. The property is apparently an old silk worm farm. An empty stone building situated down below the house that waits to be restored is the Menanieri (sp?) which was used to raise the silk worms. This area had a very significant silk industry into the 19th C from what I understand. The main house is built next to a spring that feeds several ponds draining into irrigation that runs down the hill and around the terraced hillside. Must be nice in the heat of summer. There is a pool and a number of different outdoor areas with different types of landscaping. A few palms and bamboo. A row of impressively large plane trees. The lawn and garden are under constant attack by wild boars, which come in the night and dig things up. My job is basically landscaping. For the moment that means working with a rake on leaf piles, collecting downed branches, some chain saw work, and burning. The house heats with wood… the kitchen and living room anyway. The upstairs is unheated, but it doesn't get that cold.

The house has 12 foot ceilings. Quite a stately building. Most of it is restored already but the downstairs is being opened up into a large hall for the retreat center use. It tends a little toward late 20th C bohemian in decor. Lots of artistic expression. Tempts me to call it a hippie haven, which is somewhat true. The people who come here are people who pursue their lives as a journey. They are people engaged with the arts, or healing, or some form of spiritual seeking. Shamanism seems like a theme here, perhaps partly because of Joel, who is a boyish 50 (or so) and lives in a yurt on one of the terraces. He has been following a vision for the past 5 years that involves building and playing and teaching drums for ritual and is some kind of partner in making things happen here. There is a sweat lodge planned in about a week. I will tend the fire. I'd like to participate, but I am also here to help and work. Everyone I meet has traveled much. Many musicians. I just met a woman who spent 2 months in the jungles of Peru living with a shaman. Another just back from Qatar with her drumming group. A couple of women from Marseille showed up one night. Don't know why they were here, but it doesn't matter. Always an interesting person. Nobody wants to sit around watching TV.

Speaking of TV, did I say that I came here by accident? I was staying with a couple guys from Vermont who I know through Kate and who have a place north of here (la Bouysseau). Beautiful house and they were quite good to me, but every night, and sometimes through the day the main activity seemed to be watching TV. As bad or worse than American boob tube. Something seriously lacking. Something in my mind was going…. "Gotta get out of here…. go back… I miss where I was". I needed a place to stay through New Years at which time I was supposed to go to start another workaway. My Vermont hosts had invited me for the duration, then said maybe they would take another trip after Dec 22, then said they wouldn't go, then finally decided they really had to go. Time for another plan, but what?

I sent a couple emails. I had a lead to follow up on and it worked out and I got an invitation from Alain here at Mas Lafont. I came here because Alain is a friend of Patrice (a guy from Quebec), who I met in Sauve, by way of Bertrand the carpenter who lives in Sauve and knows Patrice who doesn't really live there (he and his wife and boy are itinerant too) but often stays in Sauve in Frank's house (you remember Frank? The trapeze artist with Cirque du Soleil?) which is down the street from chez Bertrand, who I met because I was working with him on the house in Sommieres for Benoit and Sarah, who live in St. Quentin and were my hosts when I got here in December. Get it? And because Alain said, "Sure you can come here and work or just rest" (because I was still getting over the car wreck) There is no way to plan such a thing.

Once here it took a few days to figure out whether I had any place here or was just a temporary interloper. It really helped to be able to work and put my efforts into the place. There is an informality here that, once used to it, is very comfortable. No need to put on airs, but for the first few days I was worried about doing things, or not doing things, or doing things inappropriately. I'm over that. It feels like family… in a good way so far. Alain's 10 yo daughter, Judith, came for the holidays and she is a delight. We have fun even though we can't understand much of what each other says. It was nice to see her come with her dad to pick me up in town today at the bus stop on my way back from Paris. Same with everyone who I meet here. An easy feeling of community.

Nobody slaves too hard. I feel that I am doing my part if I work 3 or 4 hours a day. Alain seems grateful for what I have done and am able to do. The rest of the day is mine. My room has a huge window that opens to a view of the valley of the Vidourle River, and beyond to two limestone topped peaks called 'the twins" which we all climbed last week. My room is a nice refuge if I need one. Afternoon nap maybe. Dinner around 8 or 8:30 and conviviality until 11 most nights. 7 KM down the valley to St. Hippolyte du Fort village and all that.

A few days before I left for Paris to see Dave I got an email from my Jan 1 host saying…"not a good time for you to come… maybe later would be better."  I replied that I had an ideal place and 'later' would not work for me. My head was telling me "You made this plan, don't quit on them, work it out somehow… besides you might miss something"  My heart was going  "Fine… stay here… what could be better than this you idiot". So I listened to my heart and decided it was also not too late to cancel my Jan 15th gig as well. Why risk being isolated somewhere that might end up feeling like the place I was in the Dordogne?

Funny how I am not enchanted with the idea of changing my scene and traveling as compared with staying in one place and digging deeper into what is possible here. I am aware of my desire for belonging and to be part of a mission with others. There are a lot of other places I could have seen here, but so what. I don't know where this is leading (not that I don't have ideas.. helpful suggestions for whoever is in charge) but I trust it will be good.