In my very unhumble opinion, it rivals some rather rocking retreat centers— it’s so full of art you can’t see the walls. The woods and rolling terrain perfectly frame a big sky that rivals the open lands of Montana and a half-mile driveway ensures a silence that somehow cooks me alive over and over again.
It’s hard to hide from my inner bullshit with a big sky and this deep silence…
It’s a total mess in lots of areas—the corners and canvases that have not yet been completed are everywhere, some things are still falling apart and I am now convinced a new revolutionary kind of mold is growing in a uncompleted bathroom….… but, I couldn’t care less and am in no hurry to find completion, in fact I don’t believe such a thing even exists.
It’s my experience that a house tells you what to do to it—if you listen. Living in it, experiencing it on a cold morning and a hot afternoon, living in it when inspiration hits… understanding how it functions when I’m in a bad mood… that’s how I do it.
I much prefer undone versus badly done.
It’s been two years now and no walkway to the front door yet exists, but I can tell it’s about to reveal itself, I hear the whispers of an idea every time I pull in.
Some people would just build a deck off the back, like you’re supposed to. I waited until I understood the seasons and ensured it’s positioned perfectly to see the full moon.
I’m enormously satisfied noticing a wall is in the way of an incredible view and clubbing it down while still in my bathrobe, with absolutely no intention of what to do next or how to complete it— trusting totally that once it’s down, the next step will be revealed.
This spring, I’m planting a word garden— a raised bed garden with not a single living thing in it, but rather a beautiful wandering path thru a garden full of quotes and words that light up my heart and have changed the world. They will be made from rocks and metal and sticks tied together, with twine and sealed paper and pages from books mounted to wood, erected from the ground or hanging from a branch of the tree that canopies over the area.
This place teaches me things.
I have 15 chickens and I sit on the ground and feed them green peppers by hand, watching them as they move past fear and overcome natural instincts to take it from my hands and I learn about the value of moving into fear and pushing beyond what feels safe.
The great horned owl killed 4 chickens not too long ago and I realized the inter connectedness of us all, how we all need each other in so many ways.
The stars out here are almost fake. It’s like your 5th grade field trip to the observatory and every night I am reminded of how insignificant I am but then as I watch the corn grow, preparing to feed humanity, I realize the incredible significance of it all anyway.
This place is named “Soulshine Farm” because around the time it found me, I was completely obsessed with Warren Hayne’s song “soul shine”…. And because I know in the deepest of knowing that this place helps my soul shine.
This place is being created, coming to life in the only way I know how…. like everything in my life—relationships, my company, business… one thing leading to another, trusting the moment and the momentum of things, checking in constantly to what feels right, allowing time and grace to reveal what’s next, not planning much of anything other than to remain deeply committed to the present moment, walking with kindness and joy, being freed up about it all, not following any rules and believing it’s all perfect, no matter what.
“When you can’t find the light
That guides you through a cloudy day
When the stars ain’t shining bright
And it feels like you’ve lost your way
When those candle light of home
Burn so very far away
Well you got to let your soul shine
Just like my daddy used to say..
He used to say the soulshine
It’s better than sunshine
It’s better than moonshine
Damn sure better than rain
Hey now people don’t mind
We all get this way sometimes
Got to let your soul shine
Shine ’til the break of day”