Day three in Taos NM and we were in need of some spiritual soaking. So we drove twenty miles up into the mountains, crammed in the back of the 4-wheeler we were lucky to have, as the bus would've struggled hard to make it up the old mountain roads. We arrived at the Lama Foundation mid-afternoon, a vast stretch of 109 acres of land tucked between the Sangre de Cristo mountains and the Carson National Forest. The breathtaking views had us all gasping for air and in shear wonderment (the altitude mixed with our love of tobacco may have also played a roll in this.)
The Lama foundation is a beautiful and sacred place. It was founded in 1967 by Steve Durkee, Barbara Durkee and Jonathan Altman as a safe place for people of all religions to come and find common peace, study, share, grow, and practice together. The purpose of the Lama Foundation is to be a sustainable spiritual community and educational center dedicated to the awakening of consciousness, spiritual practice with respect for all traditions, service, and stewardship of the land.” Many wonderful spiritual leaders have come through these mountains, including Ram Das who in 1970 presented the founders of the Lama Foundation with a manuscript which they collectively translated into “Be Here Now;” a book that has transformed the lives of many. The profits earned from this project and other collective works have kept the Lama Foundation funded throughout the years.
The grounds feature beautiful permaculture gardens, an open community kitchen, a dome building for practice, classes, and gatherings, and a field of tent housing. In 1996 a wildfire ripped through these mountains; scared trees stick out like matchsticks on the cliff sides. People have come together year after year to help rebuild the infrastructure that was lost, and by using the bruised trees themselves, as well as clay, straw, and other natural materials, they are building sustainable foundations that are inline with their mission statement to be stewards to the land.
The structure of the organization is quite open. With no “leader” and a very open mission statement, the Lama Foundation is supported and guided by the volunteers and residents living on site at the time. Every decision is made by a consensus vote taken unanimously by all participants. This process is one of the reasons why we were restricted in our ability to film and interview, as it's massively productive to keeping the residents and visitors feeling safe and, most importantly, involved. Everyone has a job to do at Lama, whether it is cooking a meal, running the small store, milking the goats, running a lecture, etc. In this format of ever-shifting consciousness, you can feel welcome no matter your spiritual practice. We certainly did!
We were invited to stay for dinner, a meal which put me close to tears, as the love, care, and wholesome joy could be tasted in every bite. Everyone sat together at long picnic tables, sharing stories and philosophies, journeys and experiences. I sat listening to these tales and felt my body absorb the nutritious rice and delicious Dal dish. As the bell rang and everyone sat up to help clean, not one crumb was left or one plate left undried, all placed carefully away in their respective nooks. Here, solidarity and family intentions are present beyond the basic human need to eat, talk, and keep house together.
But mostly what we found here was a community of openness, communication, stewardship, and passion that has been able to survive for over 50 years. Through fires, harsh winters and isolation, the Lama Foundation has not just survived but thrived. Their welcome and open nature to strangers like us was truly inspiring and heartwarming. I can only continue to hope that others are able to learn from these open and well rehearsed practices, seeing how truly productive the spirit of all-inclusiveness and communal values can be. This is a community of ever-rotating individuals living together and working towards the change they wish to see in the world. Whether they are participating for the day or for the season, everyone is fully involved, immersed, and passionate. This is a place where apathy simply cannot survive.
Words by - Ren.
Photos by - Raychel
 
I had only heard stories. I had only seen my friends as they returned to their homes from this apparently sacred place, their hair a cartoonish mold of clay that prompted a dust storm every time the shook their heads in disbelief. They spoke of a place where everything was free from the stresses of whatever reality we all assumed we were used to. Their souls always seemed a little shattered by the unfortunate transience of it all, but they told stories of love and family and "being home." I had never been there, so of course I couldn't fully comprehend it, only attempt to imagine and dream of a place like this in my head, which was always dashed by the Bitch that was reality's logic and principle. Now, while approaching our own theoretical post-apocalyptic life, we have seen it. Now, with every fiber of our being, we understand. Now, after our epic adventure's well-earned vacation, we too have been to Burning Man.

Secluded from civilization in the middle of the harsh Nevada desert, Burning Man is a week long festival of art, culture, and spirituality in a temporary five-mile span called Black Rock City. People come from all over the world and set up their camps in a circular shape that surrounds an open playa that is filled with all shapes and sizes of art, which at the end of the week all get burned alongside the festival's centerpiece: a giant glowing Man atop a pedestal, arms raised into the air as if to symbolize the embodiment of pure joy and unadulterated freedom. Here you'll see some of the most incredible displays of costuming and decoration you're sure to see in your life, and it brings out an unfiltered desire to participate with comfort and ease. Complete with labeled streets and landmarks, BRC is a heavily biked city that is riddled with art, activities, parties, lectures, bars, costume shops, and basically every type of point of interest you can imagine. There's no less than a million things to do at any given moment in the day or night, which makes sleep a rarity and exploration a must.

That's the logistics. Experience-wise, it's not an easy thing to explain to someone who hasn't been there; it is very much something that people can only really wrap their heads around if they see it themselves. I could attempt to tell you about the haze when the sun is up and the neon lights when it's down; the sunrises over the playa and the buzz of energy at sunset; the absolute party that ensues with an exploding man or the feeling of sacred release as the temple burns to the ground; the feeling of handing your cup to a friendly face as they fill it up or the absolute brutality of the playa's dust, but it simply doesn't do it justice. It's impossible to paint these pictures. For one week out of the year it exists in reality and for the other 51 weeks it exists only in the dreams of those who know it and long for it. 

What I can say is that everything you've heard about it, whether at first you thought it cheesy, irrational, or weird, is absolutely true. The sense of home they speak of is nothing short of accurate, and the idea of utopia is undeniable. What blew my mind more than anything else was the success of it all, and all due to the respect that is shown there. Beyond just the Leave No Trace policy, everybody at Burning Man is a believer in giving; nobody is there to take. There is no money. There is no vending. There are no corporate logos. Everywhere you go, you meet people, and every time you do, they greet you with a friendly Hello, ask you (and genuinely) how you are, and nine times out of ten they give you something. There seems to be no aggression, only sharing, whether it's a piece of art, a shot of whiskey, a hug, a magic trick, or a spanking. Here people have the freedom to be who they feel they can't be when the real world stifles them. They pour their hearts and souls into the work they create and it shows in the absolutely monumental pieces of art that can be seen there, right up to the moment they are set aflame and burned. What metaphorical revelations people take away from it depends on the person, but sacrifice and release is common and encouraged.

And let it be known, the last thing about Burning Man we can really vouch for now is Decompression. Coming back into the real world is a bitch. Realizing that consumerism, aggression, ego, drama, and selfishness still exist, and to the extremes that they do, is nauseating. And a word to the wise: don't EVER go to Las Vegas as an attempt to Decompress from Burning Man, as we quickly discovered that Vegas is its evil opposite (in fact, don't ever go to Vegas at all, because it's ugly and hot and stupid). It takes a toll on a lot of people and it's understandably difficult to suddenly have to pack up and leave a place you've come to call your otherworldly home. The best thing we can do is remind ourselves that a temporary utopia exists for us one week out of the year, and in the meantime, we can do our best to spread the things that make it successful to those who have no yet had the pleasure of experiencing this enlightened society.

As a side, among the many things I appreciated about Burning Man was their system for dealing with media. Like I said, I'd only ever heard stories. As in, I had never seen video footage of the Man burning on YouTube, or photographs of beautiful nude women riding their gloriously decorated bicycles through the dusty playa on Google Images, or advertisements for next year's burn anywhere in popular media. That's not to say they're not out there, but if they are, they're against the admirable policy that Burning Man laid out to me on day one when I went to their media tent to get my photographer pass, which on it said in bold writing: MEDIA PASS: This entitles you to nothing in particular." As far as media goes, anything and everything documented at Burning Man is subject to approval before it gets posted anywhere or used for anything commercial. In many ways, this keeps Burning Man under wraps the way that it should be kept. Anybody who disagrees with this rule has misunderstood the concept and the goal here. There's a reason so many people in the country still don't even know what Burning Man is, and that's because it's a sacred experience that should be kept as such. So if you're wondering why I chose to only tease you with one photo from the dozens of incredible images I was able to capture there, that's why.

 

How can we make the world a better place in this new age? What can we change this second time around? Well, day one of our epic journey and apparently our problem is already solved. It's easy, according to 92-year-old Barbara Hall Fiske Calhoun, founder of a free-thinking community of families on a secluded mountaintop in Quarry Hill, Vermont. All we have to do is have more sex.

Barbara and her husband Irving began the Quarry Hill family and community in the 40s, which was succeeded by a gallery in New York City that introduced further masses to their idea of how to create a forward community in which people could explore their own version of utopia. Four generations later, although according to some it seems to be winding down, the Quarry Hill community remains a somewhat polygamous family that practices in building families using more of a "free love" attitude, in addition to observing strictly non-violent communication (especially towards children, ie., there is absolutely no spanking), and even group-wide veganism.

From watching sporadic moments of her daughter LadyBelle clutching to Barbara's gorgeous, withering hands, to 20-somethings of the community busting out a dance-off, to the festivities of their annual party lasting through wee morning hours, it was apparent that the Quarry Hill community is one that was made to inspire the possibilities of a new kind of family. It's hard to say how truly open these people are or have the capability of being when you're just an outsider looking in and trying not to misrepresent them, but it seems even those who have only known of the community a short time feel a sense of belonging and companionship there.

See the documentary video of Quarry Hill, with interviews with Barbara, LadyBelle, and other Quarry Hill community members on the Documentary Films & Commentary page.

Quarry Hill, Vermont.