LETTERS 

As far as I could make of it the commune has been built out of ideas. It wasn't the single-mindedness of Rasputin but ideas seeded from the beginning of time. Thoreau, who Rasputin talked about constantly, headed the list since he had re-taught American men how to withdraw their attention from the inane and porous world and listen in solitude to the intellect of nature; divine, sensuous, eternal nature. He said he read a lot of Kropotkin, Bakunin, Saint-Simon, Fourier, Marx, even, because he was convinced that money made for mad men. He was always dismissing one of his old favorite thinkers. 'Ah, he was an old crank,' or 'he's obsolete now, no use talking about him.'

The genders were allowed to develop freely without any prejudice or judgement. Some of the women had taken over the tractor as their own machine and would nurse it like a child.

I was reminded of the early Christians and some of the people told me that they had seen Jesus, had spoken to Him, and were continually inspired in their dreams by His appearance. And what greater example had been created than the simple, egalitarian, truth-seeking community of those early Christians that broke, finally, under the pressure of the will to power?

Many of the men had grown beards and let their hair hang down their back. There was always a woman sitting in the shade nursing her baby at her naked breast. She rarely smiled and looked out at the trees.

Food was collected and stored. Whatever supplies were bought from town became property of all. If anyone had a job in town (and a few were loggers or fire watchers) their wages were put into the commune bank account to buy essentials. Essentials were decided on by The Committee of Ten. The Committee took up the issues of the daily operation and articulated them fully, trying to wring out some conclusion. They would wring and wring it until the question was laying out stark for all to see. Then a resolution was drawn up and all the members voted; one vote per member, majority ruled.

I noticed that there would be various types of discussion. Sometimes they were very rational. And other times they were nearly violent over the smallest detail.

After a couple of weeks I forgot where I was. The silence of the morning was no longer disturbing. There was always a kind of grace in the air. It was utter silence and then a quick puncturing sound of a blue jay. Then the chicks started clucking and I could hear feet outside my window and then a laugh or low conversation. When I opened the door the clouds were hiding the ascending sun. I would think to myself, 'this is no place to work. It's absurd people want to labor in the middle of peace and beauty. For all that I started looking forward to my daily chores.

One day Rasputin confronted me. At first I thought he was angry about something. Instead he told me to take the day off. 'You're doing good work. Go off and meditate by yourself or read or anything you desire to do.' I was mildly shocked and felt uneasy. I went back to my shack and got one of the books you'd given to me. As I heard all the activity around me I knew I had to go somewhere that my conscience wouldn't bother me. I went down to the waterfall to contemplate some things I was mulling over. I thought about how long I would have to stay in the mountains? How long would the conflict last? Was my future ruined because of his decision? Was it an impulsive decision I would learn to regret the rest of my life? Would one day come when I would be confronted by the consequences of my decision? These were not kind thoughts.

I will take a walk, I said to myself. I will walk up the path by the stream and look at things.

I walked past Herbert, the ax-man, who was sharpening his ax on an old grinding wheel. 'Fine day today,' he said.

And then there was the woman. She was there.

David Eide
February 11, 2000
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