Part 3 of the village is about The Well.
The Bird and the Tree
Louis is a bird, and I am a tree. When we first met, all we did was laugh together. It was beautiful, how our words connected, when we had never spoken before.
A word leads to a sentence, leads to a paragraph, and then it is paragraphs upon paragraphs, each using the previous one as a ladder to reach unknown heights of truth, and depths of meaning. When we notice something untrue in what we say, we quickly correct it. And together we bathe in streams of what we perceive is true, and it is always a sheer joy.
“Where is your place to nourish yourself? The place where you save your progress and refill your lives?” asked Louis.
“That’s a good question”, I said. “I haven’t had much of a meditative practice or silence recently.”
“Maybe more than silence, it’s reconnecting to the juice! More of a regenerative practice.”
“The well? Filling the well?”
“Yes. Everything starts with the well. A good house, a good school — they are built around a well. The well is the place where you regenerate. It reaches deep into the earth, the soil, connects you to your roots, to your source. The place in you that is immutable, where you are free from ideas, where you only resonate with what is true. Listen to the water, drink from it, be inspired, be nourished. Get connected to the juice.”
I knew immediately that he was right. He has that tendency. But to see my model and therefore also my house missing such an important part — I didn’t want to accept it yet.
“Hm yes, well-! My bed is the place, where I read and from which I draw plenty of rest and inspiration!”
“Nope. That ain’t it. It can’t be your bed, it has its own function.”
“Ok, and here on my PC”, (we were on Discord), “I’ve got great sources of inspiration through Twitter and YouTube, and I speak to you and other friends and creative partners. I can tap into the spirit of the world and it feels very nourishing.”
“That energy is actually the opposite of what I’m talking about. But it’s beautiful and I know what you mean.”
Louis was very clear.
“So what is it? How should it be?”, asked I.
Quick intermission: You can speak with both Louis and I on The Village and The Well in an Interintellect salon on February 25th, 2022. That’s today, or tomorrow, or a long time ago, depending on when you read this. If you are on time, you can join here.
A sacred Place
“Well, it has to be your place! I can’t tell you that. I can only tell you what I do. I have my desk. It is a sacred space. Only the right things are on it, including some sacred artifacts. I like it neat. When I sit here, I light a candle. I’m with a book I’m studying, poems I’m writing. From here, I go to the places where I see myself clearly.
It takes time to build this. It grows by itself. I’ve been “working” on this desk for 18 years.
The other day, my niece was at my place. She was playing around the house. I had something to do at my desk, and she wanted to sit with me. I told her, sit with me, but this is not a place to play and cause a mess. I’ll study now, so you have to study, too. She understood, and sat with me quietly and alertly, with the same reverence I had for my work and for my space.
That is the well, the place, where I can quietly be with myself. What place is that for you?”
While I’m typing this, I remember that when I was at Louis’ house two weeks ago, while I was settling in, I placed my disposable camera on his desk. When I walked by later, I found it on the stool next to the desk. I absent-mindedly put it back on the surface. And again, found it removed. Then I got it, and stowed it away. Knowing about his well, I could have known better from the start.
The true Conversation
I have something special for you now. The conversation I wrote out above, was mostly from memory. But it really took place. And I have a recording of it. AND I uploaded it to YouTube, raw and almost uncut. You can subscribe to YouTube and watch the video here:
My Well, and yours?
About my own well... we spoke a bit more about what it could be. My imagination led me to a very big, flexible, comfortable chair, where an old sharp man might sit and read a book, play a record, maybe smoke a pipe, or just be by himself, to enjoy life and ponder. Maybe I’m that man. Books and music bring me close to my essential nature, to the juice.
When I mentioned the chair, Louis’ eyes got big. “Aha! You mentioned that chair twice now. You’re onto something!”
In my mind, I was able to manifest this chair. I don’t have it yet. But in the place where it will be, there is already a place to sit. And it is the place where I already like to sit. So I already have The Well with me. Now, I want to learn to use it better, and more consciously. And when I have the possibility, I can upgrade it, so the well isn’t grimey and mossy, but clean with blooming flowers around it.
There is no tree without a bird. There is no village, without a well. There is no man, without the juice.
The water will be crisp and fresh and nourish the whole village and lighten their load. It will brighten up dark mornings, and at night wash away the dirt of the day. That is the well.
This concludes my 3-part series on The Village.
It was valuable for me to study this topic during the last two months, and a pleasure to write it out for you. I hope you enjoyed it.
Tomorrow, I will share these thoughts with others, who are interested, in an Interintellect salon. Details below. Louis will be there, too!
If you’ve enjoyed these thoughts, and you would like to see more, please subscribe, for free, and leave a comment to tell me what you liked and what you want to see next.
On February 25th, 2022, I will host an Interintellect salon on this topic. Interintellect is a platform that is reinventing the French salon for the internet. If you would like to discuss the ins and outs of The Village with me and others, please join me here. Tickets are $10, and you will join a ~3 hour Zoom call, with other interesting people, discussing this very idea.
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