Our first season at Solfield was full of challenges, to say the least. Fortunately, we began the year with absolutely no expectations. Literally. Anne and I decided not to charge any fees, as the facilities were barely operational (and quite unreliable) and we still had virtually no overhead – Anne, Paul and I were doing almost everything, at least until mid-June, when a group of folks from San Diego came up to begin working with us.
Quite a few friends of mine had heard about Solfield through the grapevine and were anxious to see the property. One of them was a sculptor, an old friend of mine named Michael Edwards. When Mike climbed to the top of Harry’s hill, he knew he would be involved in the carving of it. He and Paul spent hours up there, measuring and surveying and scraping away soil.
It turns out, the hill was made almost entirely of rock covered with a foot or more of dirt and weeds. Paul had already determined the dimensions for the top platform and the first level of steps leading down from it. In speaking with them and overhearing their many conversations, I knew that the completion of Soul Mound would take several years. The plan was to keep the project ongoing, and to allow visitors to assist in the carving of it if they so desired.
The design was modeled after a mound that Harry had created in his backyard in Ohio. I could see from Paul’s drawing that each level was to consist of three deep steps at the bottom, followed by seven shallow steps, and then three more deep steps leading to the next platform. Because they were going to carve the steps directly into the rock, it was going to take quite a long time. Mike purchased a dozen heavy duty chisels and hammers, which he kept in a weather-proof tool cabinet on the top of the hill, along with other supplies.
That first summer, Mike and Paul made modest progress. They began by clearing away the dirt from the top of the hill and carving out the flat surface of the top platform. It was square, ten feet per side, and they used some of the more rectangular rocks they had cleared away to make a chimney-shaped structure in the center of the platform. This, according to Paul, was a feature Harry had placed atop his little mound in Ohio. For some reason, Paul believed it was important to have one on Soul Mound as well.
As Paul and Mike continued their work, Anne and I were busy developing other features around Solfield. Anne had a thing for labyrinths, which I have always enjoyed and appreciated as well, and so creating labyrinths was a special project that she and I enjoyed, probably more than anything else.
We used some of the stones that Paul and Mike cleared away from the top of the mound to trace out several seventh-circuit labyrinths in small clearings throughout the property. Anne had purchased a wagon with large inflatable tires, and each day we climbed up the hill, threw and rolled stones down the slope to the ground, and carted them to whatever labyrinth we were working on.
The main labyrinth was large, more than fifty feet from one side to the other. We worked on it all summer, mostly in the mornings. It was a wonderful way to begin each day, tracing out the path that we had completed so far and adding another ten or so feet. We often worked in silence, and we could feel the space growing more peaceful as we progressed.
By September, the main labyrinth was completed and the first three steps at the top of the mound had been carved. There was still a long way to go, but the process had begun. And the platform at the top was now a viable gathering spot.
We hosted a dozen gatherings at Solfield that first season – most consisting of ten people or less. Visitors came to see the place, to help out while they were there, and to participate in the beginnings of Solfield.
There were other guests, too – a half a dozen individuals came for initial visits and then returned throughout the summer and fall to contribute and to just be there. Solfield had already begun to take on a distinct feel – it was becoming a place you were reluctant to leave and anxious to return to. And all of it without any real structure. Each of us just seemed to know our role, our part to play.
There was no central authority or planning at Solfield. No one was “in charge”. Even the visitors seemed to know what to do while they were there. Each person was in charge of themselves, and there always seemed to be someone nearby ready to assist you if you needed help with something.
We tended to eat together in the morning and evening. And each night we gathered around the campfire that was situated in the center of the ring of cabins. For the rest of the day, however, people were on their own. Some hiked and wandered, some worked in the garden. Some traced the labyrinth, some carved out stone atop Soul Mound. Some worked hard all day, while others did no work at all and instead spent time wandering through the woods.
There was a small stream that ran along the west side of the property, and someone had built a series of small footbridges every several hundred yards – large logs and tree trunks that they had dragged across the stream and tied together. All around Solfield, there were little touches being added that made the place more and more hospitable and unique.
By the fall, the cabins were in full working order. Each one had solar equipment on the roof which accumulated power for interior lighting. There was a well pump which supplied running water to all the cabins as well, although there were no toilets in them.
Instead, we built a small bathhouse behind the cabins that contained four shower stalls and four toilets, half for the men and half for the ladies. If you’ve ever been to a campground, you know the kind of facilities I’m describing. It wasn’t a hotel, but it wasn’t exactly roughing it either. We had also dug holes and built outhouses in many areas around the property – two at the base of the mound, one by the gardens, and several others.
These were the kinds of projects we pursued that first season – digging, building, clearing, carving. It was hard work, but it was by far the most fulfilling work I’ve ever done. Every task was a meditation in itself. I saw everything I did as a sacred action, “planting seeds”, as Mike would say. I knew that people would be benefiting from the work we were doing for years to come, and I felt honored and privileged to be part of it.
As autumn rolled in and the weather grew colder and the leaves began to change, there was a sense of completion in the air. We were tired, to be sure, and I think we were all looking forward to returning south for the winter. Despite all the sacredness and peacefulness, we were ready to rest. We needed to take a break, to return to the outside world for a while, to simplify our lives at home a bit. We had each put our normal lives on hold while we performed our labor of love up in Oregon, and those lives were now calling us.
Mike and I and many others left Solfield before Halloween, while Paul and Anne remained a few weeks longer. And by the time they left in mid-November, the place was shut down for the winter. We would return in early April and begin the process of preparing for our first “official” season. We had already taken many reservations for the following year, and the schedule was almost full through July. So it appeared that things were on course.
It was an amazing year for all of us, one that I’ll never forget. In the years to come, the process we had begun would continue and expand. Solfield was on its way to becoming much more than we could have guessed.
The seeds had been sown.
