The U-haul truck pulled up to the beautiful, pristine farm we had just rented. More than 80 acres of meadow led down to a small creek and then partway up the wooded hills. On this countrified land in Northeast Pennsylvania sat a 80 year old white farmhouse. With a large barn about 50 yards from the home, this was one of only five homes on a five mile dirt road off the town’s main drag. It was a long way from U.W.M and the frenetic scene we were a part of for over two years.
Hopeful that this farm property was the beginning of a spiritual vision and quest, we conjured up a myriad of plans and visions. I would complete my last course in the master’s program on the farm, a research methodology class. I had studied organic gardening and outlined on paper my plans for the garden.
We were planning to grow our own vegetables, live a simple life, share all our resources, and spiritually evolve!
A universal lesson in this mystical world, one that we needed to learn and relearn for seemingly our entire lives, was that one’s plans never turned out the way one had expected. With the anticipation that our close friends would be joining us in this noble quest, how would we ever have known that it would actually be strangers joining us as our communal compatriots and fellow travelers? Our four bedroom, one bathroom farmhouse would come to be shared by three families comprised of five adults, two boys, a black lab and two barn cats.
While we all maintained separate checking accounts, we agreed to split the rent three ways, $50 per month, per family, for this pastoral setting, as well as split food costs and other sundry supplies. Life was economically simple and easy. We never went out. We were content with developing our garden and finding enriching and inspiring ways to live, meditation, inspirational reading, and living off the land.