Tag Archives: Harmony Center

Dare to Dream: Harmony Farm

25 Tuesday Oct 2016

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We Had A Dream.

Over 35 years ago, we fell in love with 23 beautiful acres in Medfield, MA. A bubbling stream ran through the property. It fed a private pond and excited our imaginations. We dreamt of living there, in harmony with nature, and gave this dream a name – Harmony Farm.

Building the Dream

After purchasing the land, we began the process of manifesting our dream. Wanting to experience nature as much as possible from inside our home, we designed it with large expanses of glass facing south, which had the added benefit of passive solar energy gains. We built the house overlooking the pond. . A barn for some sheep and a donkey, then a coop for chickens came next.

housespring

While erecting these buildings changed the land, we tried to do so in an earth-friendly manner. Most of the property remained as we found it, with trails meandering through untamed woods and open fields for a grazing and planting. And when planting and tending gardens, we did so organically, without sprays or chemicals.

 Living the Dream

We enjoyed living in harmony with the land. We drank pure water from our deep private well and ate many of our meals from the garden. Our huge vegetable garden grew various types of tomatoes, corn, carrots, peas, green beans, cabbage, potatoes – to name just a few. We also cultivated medicinal herbs and gathered others from the wild. The land generously produced wild fruits: blueberries, raspberries, elderberries, and more. Our breakfasts included eggs lain that morning by happy hens who spend time outside. Nothing can compare with the taste and nutritional value of truly fresh food.

Seasons were no longer marked by pages turned on a calendar. We lived them, experienced them in every cell of our bodies. We ate asparagus in the spring along with the power-filled herb, nettles. During winter we reaped the benefits of our labor in the gardens, eating stored food from our huge freezer and cold storage room.

trail-022No matter what the season, we spent time each day outside. Nature surrounded us during strolls down the winding driveway to pick up the mail, invigorating walks through vibrant woods, and meditative moments sitting by the pond. During spring, summer, and fall we often ate outside, listening to birdsong, inhaling the sights around us. We also swam in the pond – a delightful sensory experience.

Something important happened during the years that we’ve lived on this sacred land. It happened gradually, almost imperceptibly. We began feeling whole, more complete, more peaceful and serene. Harmony Farm had slowly, but surely, changed us. We attributed these changes to the healing benefits of our connection with the natural world.

Sharing the Dream

Full of gratitude for the abundance of our holistic haven, we expanded our hearts to further grow our dream. We decided to share our good fortune with others, give them the opportunity to experience Harmony Farm’s healing properties. We founded Harmony Center, a non-profit corporation, and built a separate building.

The new building provides the ideal setting for experiential workshops and classes. People gather inside an octagonal room with views of nature visible through large expanses of glass. Two bathrooms and another multipurpose room add to its versatility. Harmony Center offers programs that facilitate physical, emotional and spiritual wellbeing in this remarkable setting.

Whether someone comes for two hours or the day, it feels like a mini retreat. Upon turning into our driveway, people leave the hustle and bustle of everyday life behind. Worry and stress release as people open to the tranquility of this place. They leave feeling refreshed and renewed – at peace with themselves, at one with the world.

Dreaming Anew

As we moved into our elder years, Harmony Farm began dreaming of new owner(s) / caretaker(s). Like-minded souls who will care for it, love it, help it to thrive. Persons who dare to dream.

Dare to Dream

 

Change

08 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by in Nature, Whole

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We humans alter the Earth to suit our needs.  We impact our environment, often with little thought to long term consequences.

I’ve been blessed to live on 23 beautiful acres.  Harmony Farm’s pond, stream, woods, and fields have impacted every aspect of my being.  Admittedly, we changed the land by building a house, a barn and a studio, but we tried to do so in an earth-friendly manner.  When planting and tending gardens, we did so organically.

While living on this small slice of nature, I spent time each day outside.  My activity depended on the season.  I walked trails through the woods almost every day and when snow covered the ground I did so with snowshoes.  During spring summer and fall, I ate breakfast by the  pond listening to birdsong, inhaling the sights around me.  I also frequently swam in the pond – a delightful sensory experience.

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Something important happened during the 36 years that I’ve lived on this land.  I changed.  It happened gradually, almost imperceptibly.  By spending time outside each day, I began feeling whole, more complete.  More peaceful and serene.

The land changed me.

Energy

08 Wednesday May 2013

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Spring bursts forth with gay abandon.  Birds sing, leaves expand, flowers open and chickens lay eggs.  Palpable energy fills the air.

Each day brings new surprises.  The land grows greener by leaps and bounds.

Green Energy

With sun shining brightly, I’m pulled outdoors.  While my eyes inhale vibrant color, my feet dance in rhythm with spring-time energy.  Sensing the energy that surrounds me, I delight in this time of the year.

Upon returning inside, I sit at the computer and find myself reflecting on Harmony Center’s spring workshops.  With no intent on my part, they each ended up focusing on energy.  Though different in focus, their main themes revolve around energy.

So what, actually, is energy?

Great minds have pondered this question for ages.  It addresses the Great Mystery of Life, with both science and religion seeking to answer the question.  In some ways it is the arena where science and religion intersect.

Energy involves the activity of the electromagnetic field around and within all living beings.  This energy connects all of creation, forming the inter-relatedness of all beings.   It can be measured, physically sensed and some people even see this energy.

While most people have times when we pick up energy vibrations, for we talk about experiencing “good vibes” when in the presence of certain people or places, we often don’t trust this information or know how to tune into it on a consistent basis.  For most of us, tuning into energy is an undeveloped skill.

So I’m looking forward to Harmony Center’s next workshop, “Opening to the Energy Field” on June 8th from 1pm to 5pm.  I expect to learn more about energy and further develop my ability to sense it.  Maybe I’ll even get to see it.

Praying

12 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by in Nature, Spiritual

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On the day of the impending blizzard, I took my usual walk in the woods.  Snow drifted down lazily around me as I put one foot in front of the other and connected with the land around me. 

Arriving in my sacred prayer area, I stood for a while surveying the scenery.  My heart expanded to include each tree, each rock, and each place my eyes touched.   I felt filled with love.

I began speaking out loud.  “Dear Spirit, please protect all of us during the coming blizzard.  Protect the birds, including Blue Jay who sat on the branch outside my bathroom window this morning, from the danger coming our way.  Protect all the wild beings, including gentle Doe who recently visited this area.  Help all who are in the path of the storm find shelter and stay safe.”

I continued praying, “Please guide each snowflake to pass between the tree branches and pine needles.  Help the trees sway and bend with the wind.”  

My prayers became more specific as I asked for protection for my family and friends, for our chickens and sheep, for Star our donkey, for Kali our dog, for Pizzaz our cat, for our home, for Harmony Center, and for all of Harmony Farm.

I prayed, and prayed some more.  Then stood in silence, listening, sensing, feeling.

Deep inside I felt reassured.  I couldn’t say how I knew, but I felt everything would be all right.

As the day progressed, I watched snow pile up and heard wind blow.  When I went over to Harmony Center during the evening, I noticed that our driveway had already been plowed.  I said a mental “thank you” to John for being out in the storm, for taking good care of people like ourselves.

Snowy Scene

Later at night I lay in bed, listening to wind howling around our house.  Snuggled cozily inside my bed, I felt safe and warm.  As I drifted into sleep, I felt deep gratitude for the unsung heroes out braving the storm keeping us safe, plowing, repairing electric lines, answering emergency calls, clearing railroad tracks, etc. etc. 

I prayed for their protection and sent them love. 

Circle of Stones

01 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by in Spiritual

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Many years ago I read “A Circle of Stones” by Judith Duerk.  The repetitive “How might your life have been different if there had been a place for you, a place for you to go to be with…” evoked a sense of longing in me.  It spoke to the need for women to gather in community, to share their stories with each other, and to support each other’s journey to wholeness. 

“What if there was a place…”  “What if there was a place…”  This phrase rooted itself in my heart, silently waiting for the right time to echo forth.  On walks in the woods, I felt the land offering to be that place … a place where people could commune with nature, connect with each other, and help each other to grow.  “How might that happen?” I wondered to myself, as well as the land. 

Year after year, “How might that happen?” continued surfacing in my mind.  Then my parents died.  After my sadness abated, which took a couple of years, I realized that the money they left might just cover the expenses of erecting a building.  But in order for it to be built, a large and stately pine tree would need to be chopped down. 

My husband and I debated about Grandmother Pine.  She felt sacred.  We wanted her to stay.  Yet forced to choose between the building and the pine tree, we ultimately opted for the building – with one condition.  Grandmother Pine’s stump would need to stay.  I wanted Grandmother Pine to be remembered. 

While the building was under construction, a fluorescent yellow ribbon with the word “CAUTION” circled the stump, alerting all contractors to exercise care when navigating machinery in the area.  I removed the ribbon once Harmony Center came into being.  

I thought of the stump as an altar, and sometimes placed ceremonial objects either on her or around her.  For the most part, however, Grandmother Pine’s memorial remained undecorated.  This summer, when Foxglove surrounded her with loving energy, it felt as if they were honoring Grandmother Pine.

At this year’s Fall Equinox, I placed a sunflower at her base.  Then recently, I stood contemplating her flat top, asking how she might like to be honored, and suddenly thought, “A Circle of Stones!  Grandmother Pine gave her life so we could have that place, a place to gather in community.  A circle of stones would honor the sacrifice she made.”  And with this thought an image came to mind – a circle of stones around a rock cairn on top of the stump.   

I walked around, gathering stones from various places on the land.  As always, I checked in with each stone, making sure it wanted to be part of this altar.  Then I placed larger ones in the middle creating the cairn, and around the cairn a circle of stones. 

Completing my mission, I stood back to take a look.  I saw the cairn as a new being growing up from the center of the stump.  And around this being, a stone circle creating sacred space within which this being can grow. 

“What if there was a place…”  “What if there was a place….”

Thanks to Grandmother Pine, we now have that place, a place where people gather in community – Harmony Center.

Mixed Blessing

25 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by in Nature

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In my previous blog, I wrote about the joy of discovering our guinea hen with her newly hatched brood of keets and my excitment about how all the adults were caretaking the babies (see Cooperative Edge?).  I hoped to watch the tiny, adorable little beings develop into full-grown birds. 

When I first noticed Mother Hen with her babies, I spotted at least 15 keets.  I had difficulty counting as sometimes they were underneath one guinea fowl, then moved to another.  And when they were out-from-under, they ran around so rapidly, peeping and chirping as they went, that I had difficulty counting. 

The adult guinea fowl initially hovered over their babies, protecting them from the cold, and moved around very little.  But as day one moved into days two and three, their attentiveness to the baby keets appeared to wane.  While they continued protecting and teaching the keets, their focus turned to foraging for food.  They moved at a faster pace and travelled further before stopping to eat or rest.

I watched tiny little bodies scurrying, trying to keep up with the adults.  They encountered many obstacles that the adults readily walked over.  A small stone became an insurmountable mountain and a twig a hazardous zone that their tiny legs had difficulty negotiating.  But try they did.  The feisty little souls scrambled up and down, running as fast as they could after the adults.  A noisy little bunch, for they peeped, and peeped and peeped.

While the adults still tended their baby keets, they appeared oblivious to the keets’ inability to rapidly negotiate terrain with tiny bodies and fragile state.  I watched in despair as the parents ran ahead, seemingly unconcerned about what was happening behind them and despite a keet’s loud frantic peeps.

At the end of each day, Mother Hen  found what she considered to be a safe place to spend the night and gathered her keets under her there.  Once I located her under a saw horse next to Harmony Center.  Other nights I didn’t know where she slept, but she and her brood re-appeared in the morning, sitting outside the guinea house, waiting for her “husband” and other pals to join her.

I thought, “if only Mama would take them into the coop. Then I could lock them all up for a while – keep them safe, give the keets a chance to grow stronger.”  Hoping that she might, praying that she would, I readjusted the ramp into the coop to ensure that the keets could readily walk inside.  Doing everything I could think of to entice Mama inside, I sprinkled food on the ramp and turned on the light.

As one day led into the next, my baby keet count went from 15 to 10, then down to 8.  I found two small bodies sprawled, lifeless on the ground.  Gathering these remnants of once spirited beings, I said a few prayers and buried one white and one speckled inert form.

Day four dawned, and as the day developed, one after another baby keet succumbed.  Finding two little souls struggling after the pack, I picked each one up separately and held him, or her, for a while, thinking that I might warm the probably cold body.  But when I put him / her down, I watched each little body struggle to run, only to fall over, struggle again, and fall yet again.  I realized that they’d each broken a leg, probably caught on a twig, or a rock, or who knows what.

During the afternoon, I buried 2 more bodies, and watched two spirited little beings running through the brush, still managing to keep up with the pack.  At the end of the day, when I went to lock the guinea house, all five adults were there.  But none of their babies.

After all the joy and excitement, I feel deep sorrow, broken hearted.  Such feisty little souls, so full of energy and happy peeps – broken legs, exhaustion, cold – I have no idea how each one perished.  They struggled and suffered.  I hope not too much.

Walking around outside, I miss seeing tiny exuberant bodies scurrying around.  I miss hearing boisterous, happy peeps.  Yet those feisty little keets live on – inside me.

Living on Harmony Farm, experiencing nature’s cycles, carries mixed blessings.  Despite my sorrow, I feel very blessed. 

Stone Woman

11 Thursday Oct 2012

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Melinda Coppola, a local poet and yoga teacher, arrived at a Harmony Center event bearing a gift.  As she handed me a beautiful assemblage of stones, my heart immediately responded.  The minute my fingers wrapped around the cairn, my entire chest expanded and the phrase “Stone Woman” popped into my mind.  “Hello Stone Woman,” I thought, “I’m delighted to meet you.”

Feeling an instant connection with Stone Woman, I wondered where she might like to sit.  Cradling her in my hands, I wandered toward a large expanse of glass facing the woods and placed her in a corner of the windowsill.  My body said, “Yes, that feels right.  She can face our sacred space while also feeling connected to her relatives outside.” 

As I joined the circle of people, I remained acutely aware of Stone Woman sitting nearby.  Holding her in my hands had awakened something inside me.  It had kindled a spark of desire. 

The next morning that spark burst into flame.  I dashed over to Harmony Center intent on communing with rocks resting here and there behind the building.  My body wanted to hold them and see whether or not they would like being placed one on top of the other. 

Standing next to a large rock, I recalled what I’d learned from Loralee Dubeau* when we prepared for her Medicine Wheel class.  She and I walked around the land selecting rocks to be used in the ritual.  Reminding me that rocks are sentient beings, Loralee instructed me to check in with each rock before lifting it up.  If the rock resisted being lifted, we left it where it was. 

I looked at the bluish rock, and asked if it would like to have some relatives placed on top.  Perceiving what I took to be “yes,” I looked around.  My eyes scanned nearby rocks, seeking to discern which one would offer itself, and stopped at a dark, oblong, granite-colored stone.  Feeling as though the dark stone had called, I walked over, picked it up, and carried it toward the blush one. 

My hands and eyes processed messages from the rocks.  Somehow I “knew” that these two were O.K. with being placed together.  I balanced the dark stone atop the bluish one, then looked around until a mottled rock grabbed my attention. 

Totally focused on listening to rocks, and following their wishes, I lost myself in the process.  I feverishly created one cairn after another, and another, and another.   Soon there were cairns gathered here and there behind Harmony Center. 

Eventually my inner flame dimmed, my energy slowed.  I stood back, breathed in the scent of rock and earth, and sensed it was time to stop. 

Today as I sit near the pond, I spot some stones nearby and sense myself responding in a new way.  I notice that my relationship with stones has shifted.  I’ve begun to experience them as sentient beings.  Although I used to believe in this notion, I realize that creating the cairns awakened a new knowing inside me.

Dormant senses came alive.  As my hands and eyes deeply connected with various rocks, inner sensory “organs” opened.  Messages travelled back and forth as hands and eyes found ways of communicating with rocks.

When I now connect with a rock, I sense its being-ness.  I see its uniqueness, and can almost hear it speaking to me. 

Recognizing this new sensitivity, I send a mental “thank you” to the cairns.  They expanded my awareness and helped me to grow.  Cairn’s calm strength, inner depth, and sense of balance live inside me.

*Note: Loralee Dubeau will be teaching “Spirit Alignment (beyond 12/21/12)” at Harmony Center on November 3rd.

St. J’s

30 Thursday Aug 2012

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After waiting for the dew to dry, I walk over to Harmony Center where one of my two Hypericum perforatum plants continues to flower.  My friends and I refer to this plant as St. J’s, staying out of the herbal controversy over whether it should be known by its more common name, St. John’s Wort, or the feminist alternative St. Joan’s Wort.  

St. J’s has a reputation for helping to alleviate depression.  While looking at its bright, cheerful yellow flowers, would lift anyone’s spirits, St. J’s offers many other healing gifts to us humans.  In addition to having anti-viral properties, this beautiful plant is anti-inflammatory, anti-spasmodic and anti-bacterial.  I’ve given infused St. J’s oil to people with shingles to apply externally for alleviating the neuralgia and use it myself when my hip or muscles yell in pain.[1]

I was initially taught to gather the top flowering parts of St. J’s, including some leaves.  Like other herbs, I harvested no more than 1/3 of the top.  As St. J’s isn’t plentiful on my land, after harvesting the one or two plants growing here, I drove around scanning the landscape, searching for more. 

My relationship with St. J’s changed after I became friends with salve maker Gretchen Gould.  Her oil won an herbal competition for having the deepest, richest, reddest color, thereby being the most medicinal.  She shared her secret with me.  She only harvests the newly opened flowers.   

I now follow her example.  In doing so, I’ve experienced another St. J’s gift. 

St. J’s begins blooming around the Summer Solstice (June 20th this year).   More than two months later, she continues to offer newly opened blossoms each morning.  Perennials, like St. J’s, usually don’t behave this way.  In contrast to annuals, they have a short flowering season. 

Over these months, I’ve filled jar after jar with St. J’s flowers.  First I made the oil by adding olive oil to the jars and placing them in a sunny spot.  I watched the bright yellow flowers magically transform the yellowish oil into a brilliant red color.  As the plants kept producing, I made tincture by adding 100 proof vodka to a jar of flowers.  The initially clear vodka similarly transformed into a crimson red color.  Then I dried some flowers to use in teas. 

As I walk over to St. J’s this morning, my heart feels full of gratitude.  Arriving beside her, I pick her offerings of the day and place them in my basket saying, “Dear, dear St. J’s, thank you for all you have given me this summer.  You kept giving, and giving, and giving.  It’s time for you to rest and renew.  Though I’ll keep visiting, I’m going to stop picking.”

I stand back, wondering what I can give back to St. J’s.  Looking at her, I focus on my full heart, open wide, and send her my love.  Then I find the hose, and sprinkle her roots with water. 

No wonder St. J’s helps alleviate depression.   She fills our hearts with love. 

[1] St.  J’s oil is generally only applied externally

Signs of Spring

27 Monday Feb 2012

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I awaken to a sign of spring.

Looking into the day through the bathroom window, my eyes get drawn to a fiery red area highlighted against an otherwise drab landscape.  Focusing on the color, which sits on a barren branch nearby, I identify the outline of a bird, its crimson chest blazing out into the early light.

At first I think, “ah a robin red breast.” But as my morning eyes focus, I see that the crimson color covers more of the bird’s body than just its chest.  And as I continue staring at what feels like a mirage, I recognize the bird — a cardinal. 

After making the bed, dressing, and completing a few kitchen chores, I go outside and begin walking toward Harmony Center.  A bird’s clear “tweet, tweet … tweet,tweet … tweet,tweet” floats atop the morning’s stillness.  I reply, “tweet, tweet … tweet, tweet … tweet, tweet.”

Arriving in the building, I move toward a large expanse of glass.  Facing east, I see brilliant sunlight streaming through trees and realize how much the angle of the sun has changed.  No longer low on the horizon, the sun’s position is now higher and further east – moving toward spring.

Finishing my morning ritual that includes giving thanks for the day, some chi gong, a little yoga, and additional stretching, I feel hunger stirring in my belly.  Ready for breakfast, I head toward the barn, and then wander into the chicken coup.  Reaching into a nest, my hand encounters a warm oval gift — a freshly laid egg.  Thanks to longer daylight, the hens are laying again. 

As I continue down the driveway to retrieve the newspaper, my ears pick up sounds of birds chirping their welcome to the day.  Looking towards the stream bed, my eyes recognize skunk cabbage shoots beginning to poke above ground.

Arriving at the mailbox by the side of the road, I watch cars whizzing by, their drivers seemingly oblivious to the signs of spring all around them.

Appreciating my good fortune, I count this morning’s blessings – cardinal, sunlight, birdsong, skunk cabbage, and a freshly laid egg.  Ah, signs of Spring!

Oak

14 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by in Growing

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On a recent walk in woods behind Harmony Center, I feel drawn to stop and commune with a beautiful oak tree.  I admire its strong trunk and look up into its branches.  Noticing some broken limbs, I wonder what trauma could have caused such damage. 

A snowstorm?  A Nor’easter?  And when might that have happened? 

Observing one branch, I note its position about half way up the trunk.  Judging by the size of the tree, I suspect that this damage occurred about 50 or so years ago.  

Sitting on the ground, I reflect on the relationship between growing and healing.  Despite being hurt, the tree continued to grow.  It first sealed off its wound, and then resumed growing. 

I stand and approach the tree.  Wrapping my arms around its trunk, I sense its deep rootedness, its inner strength, its tenacity and fortitude.  After absorbing these sensations, I step back, clasp my hands against my heart, and bow my head in gratitude for Oak’s important lesson.

Despite its shorn limb, Oak continued to grow.  

Prayer

31 Tuesday Jan 2012

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Prayer, to me, means opening your heart, listening to its yearnings, putting those wishes into words, and sending them out to the universe with the hope that they will be “heard.”  

I used to think that prayer was self-serving, that we need to embrace what we have in life and move on from there.  Prayer assumes that some aspect of the universe is “listening,” and I didn’t believe in a parental, anthropocentric universe. 

Over the years, though, I’ve come to think differently about prayer and incorporate prayer into my life.  Prayer always begins, for me anyway, with an expression of gratitude for all that I have. 

Duncan Sings-Alone, a Native American medicine man and Zen Buddhist priest, taught about two aspects of prayer in one of his workshops at Harmony Center.  He explained that masculine prayer involves expressing what one needs, asking for help with a dilemma or difficulty.  The feminine aspect of prayer is more receptive.  It involves sitting, opening, and waiting for an “answer.” 

Like other Native American teachings, the masculine and feminine aspects of prayer complement each other, and neither is more important than the other.  Prayer involves a dialogue with the spirit world, the unseen dimension.  It requires that we go inside ourselves to identify where we are at the moment and what it is that we need as a human being.  Once we ask for help, then we need to let go of any expectation, open to what might be offered, and listen with the ears of our hearts.   

Both aspects of prayer are necessary, the active asking and the receptive receiving.  Together they create a whole – prayer.