“It’s still
coming up,” said Ray, a little exasperated by Jana’s tendency to charge ahead
only to worry herself sick at the first hint of danger. Just as Jana was about
to demand that they turn around, they saw a hand-painted sign with the address
of The Ranch neatly lettered across it.
“That’s it?” Ray asked.
“They have
agreed not to publicize The Ranch in any way,” answered Jana using her
teacher’s instructional tone. “It preserves the integrity of the place, helps
people act more authentically.” Ray rolled his eyes back before returning to
the task of navigating the ancient little Honda off the highway and down a
narrow winding gravel road that led into a mesquite bosque at the base
of wash.
“It’s beautiful,”
breathed Jana.
Another
hand lettered sign said Guest Parkng – without the “i” – with an arrow pointing
left toward a rustic parking lot and Resident Parking with an arrow pointing
down a one lane road that further into the trees. They parked and put up the
sun shade to keep the steering wheel from heating so much it would burn a hand.
“Man, it’s hot,” said Ray to himself, stating the obvious condition of southern
Arizona in June.
“Yes, but
Rigida said that The Ranch is usually five degrees cooler than Tucson because it
is in this wash and the wash brings cooler air down from the mountain. And they
try not to pave anything here to live more in harmony with nature,” said Jana,
a little less than convincingly. “Plus, some famous artists live there, you know
that one guy that does all the blue pyramids floating over native pueblos? And
Aurora wrote that book on coping with your fear as a way of giving up control.
I think she’s still doing workshops. It’s a place for art and poetry and …
people seem interested and alive.”
Ray sat
silently. He had not felt very alive lately.
His body was leaden in the afternoons and he had taken to drinking
bitter shots of espresso to get through the day. His moods had darkened in
spite of his efforts to think positive thoughts. Where Jana saw beauty, nature,
and wholeness, he saw development, introduced species, and disruption. He half
believed her when she accused him of being a “black hole.” Ray had to
agree. Too much graduate school and a
social work job had put him face to face with hard lives, broken families, and
daily tragedies that jaded him to the high flying enthusiasm for life that Jana
so needed. He had stopped writing vignettes of life with Jana and had run out
of any desire to do much other than brood on the heaviness that came with
working with the underside of Tucson.
He lingered
n the car, letting the heat spill over him, immerse him.
“You aren’t
feeling threatened by this are you?” asked Jana, half concerned, half
irritated.
Ray had to
admit that Jana’s attraction to the edge of anything new that might heighten
her experience did scare him a little.
Once before she had left him briefly to try on a different life with a
man who offered her a place in the inner circle of New Age leadership. The sex
bothered Ray the most. If only she
hadn’t given that, he thought to himself. It had cut him, but Jana had
returned. The wound did not easily heal.
He became suspicious of men claiming to be shamans, gurus, spiritual teachers
or wise. He saw them as professors of deception who wanted a quick access into
women’s pants.
He looked a
round at the run-down, funky look of the place and saw that it appealed to
him. And the idea of owning something in
common, too, helped him politically justify considering moving here. Marx was
basically right he often said to himself as he saw the corporate state getting bigger and bigger, controlling more and more of our lives,
while the open wild desert disappeared.
“No, I
wouldn’t say threatened, but skeptical.”
Jana looked
at him deciding whether or not to go on the attack. She admitted that she could not tolerate
tendency to criticize everything, especially when that criticism pointed at her
predilection for the soulful, magical and romantic. She eased up and extended
her hand, which Ray could not help but take, as he always had, often against
his better judgment.
Once out of
the car, they found another sign leading down a trail running beneath a canopy
of palo verde and mesquite trees. An old ladder propped up against one of the
trees had River Girl’s School painted on the side. Next to the ladder was an old wheel barrow
with a metal cast wheel tilting sharply off to one side. Giant agave plants, with massive,
elegant, spear-shaped leaf blades, punctuated the walk and a lizard larger as
fat as a mouse did pushups on a rock as if challenging them to cross its
territory.
“It is
beautiful,” admitted Ray, who had cultivated an eye for desert subtlety during
his thirty some years living in Tucson.
“Let’s get
moving,” insisted Jana. “The tea started
five minutes ago in Comm-Unity Room.”
The room was at the center of a random scatter of low adobe and brick
structures. A long, deep, and heavily roofed porch ran the length of the
building, providing both shade and a sense of protection from about anything.
The posts for the porch must have come from a forest with very large trees and
they were carved to look like colossal strands of rope. The shade was almost
cavernous as the two of them made their way to the tea.
A
computer-generated flyer stated “Tea” with an arrow pointing toward a screen
door that opened into a large concrete block room. Jana and Ray entered and saw that a circle of
folding chairs were surrounded by people holding hands while listening to
someone read from a large book titled “A Course in Miracles.” Ray later found
out that they doing an “attunement” to focus the tea. A swamp cooler hummed on
the background and Ray noticed pillows piled high in corner. Bizarre collages
hung around the room that reeked of the worst of the 70s, with bean bag chairs, tired
abstract sculpture, and purple paint.
People
seemed flow into groups and so be very comfortable with one another after the
attunement broke up and they began to chat. An efficient woman approached them
and introduced herself. “Hello Jana.
It’s so nice to see you somewhere other than those refugee aid meetings
at church. And you must be Ray,” she said, extending her hand officiously.
“Welcome to The Ranch. I’m Rigida, one of the 'original' owners. Help yourselves
to a drink or some food and we’ll start the meeting soon.”
Jana mingled
easily with the owners and Ray soon heard her high laugh coming from one of the
larger groups that had formed. He tended to move to the periphery of things,
preferring to watch from a distance, and stood, awkwardly, with his sun tea,
napkin, and oatmeal cookie off to one side of the group. Just as he was
beginning to feel uncomfortable, a plump, vivacious woman stepped to the center
of the room and clapped her hands. When
people looked at her, she laughed a nervous laugh before saying “OK, everybody,
we need to get started. I’m Aurora and
I’d like to welcome everybody to the tea.
As you know, we have an opening for someone to buy shares and become a
resident of The Ranch. You have been
invited because one of the owners sponsored you. This tea is just a chance to get to know one
another and to explore the possibility of one of you moving in.” Those invited
looked around sizing up the groups, wondering whether or not winning a place
here was worth competing for.
Ray felt
Jana move to his side and take his hand. “Isn’t this exciting?” Ray nodded
half-heartedly. He had heard about these woo-woo communities and didn’t know
what to make of this one. People seemed sane enough. Rigida, Jana had told him,
was a retired teacher, and she and husband had traveled around the world doing
“citizen diplomacy.” She said they were much more socially conscious "New Age" than goofy cultists.
The women
clinked as they moved because of heavy earrings and Navajo belts. They wore
long printed skirts and boots. The men wore khaki shorts and golf shirts. Every head had some gray on it, though it was
clear that some decided to hide beneath younger colors.
Ray moved
to the window to turn his attention outward and look less conspicuous. The
desert came right up the window, and the light was almost blinding. “I just
love the peaceful energy of saguaros, don’t you?” Ray turned to see a woman in
her late 40s with hair piled high on her head but held in place with tortoise
shell combs looking straight at him, disconcertingly, gazing, overdoing eye contact.
He answered her reluctantly. “They are beautiful, especially in bloom like
this.” It was hard to believe that something as delicate as a saguaro bloom
could thrive in the harsh heat that was June in the desert.
“How many
people live here?” asked Ray, changing the subject.
“About
fifteen owners and twelve renters,” the woman answered. “I’m Starfire, by the
way. And you are …”
“Ray. Is
this meeting only for owners?”
“Oh,
yes. Though I’ve always said we should
include everybody. I think it’s so unfair
the way we treat renters here. We have to watch out for the Dominator Principle, you know, because people who keep acting out family dysfunction will
poison community.”
Ray
swallowed and took a sip of his tea, noticing that Rigida was glaring at Starfire
and that the rest of the group was gathering around the circle of chairs.
Aurora was holding court and it was plain that she enjoyed the attention. “OK
everybody, it’s time to get better acquainted. I’ve put some nature objects on
the table here and I want everybody to pick up one that speaks to you somehow.”
Ray looked at the table and saw some rocks, twigs, bones, a small bird’s nest,
a cicada exoskeleton and a few flowers.
“Then we’ll all take a few moments to listen to the object to hear what
it has to teach us. Finally we’ll all
come back and introduce ourselves to the group and share something about the
object and ourselves. OK?”
Aurora
picked first, but Jana was not far behind.
Ray saw her pick up the nest. “Oh, you don’t need to get anything. This is good enough for both of us,” she said
moving in next to him, blocking him from going to pick up his own object.
Within a
minute everyone in the room had an object and was silently sitting or standing
with it trying to decipher its meaning. A few of the newcomers looked puzzled
or jaded by the strangeness of the request.
“OK
everyone,” intoned Aurora, “I’ll go first. I picked this branch because it says
‘joy’ to me. It is the joy of being
connected to the tree that is community and friendship here at The Ranch. We live together and work together. We try to find what is good and gentle in
sharing, to be decent to each other. Let’s hear from one of the visitors.”
Starfire
raised her hand and volunteered. Rigida and Aurora both subtly shuddered. “I
picked this stone because it is so solid and reminds me of my connection to the
earth and natural harmony that we all need to return to.” She was about to go
on, but Rigida interrupted, with an appeal for a new person to share.
Jana jumped
in with her nest, holding it out to the group almost as an offering, her head
low with reverence and modesty. “I picked this nest because Ray and I are going
to have a baby and I hoped that we might raise him or her in a place like this
. . . where it feels like a spiritual community close to the desert.”
The women
in the room practically cooed with approval and some of the men smiled broadly.
Ray caught one of the new people rolling his eyes.
“It would
be so wonderful to have some children around here,” Aurora mused out loud. “We are beginning to look like a retirement
home.” Some of the older heads nodded. As the sharing of objects continued,
Jana looked up at Ray, confident now that they had a spot, if they could afford
it, at The Ranch. Ray wondered what they were in for.
***
“Will these
carriage bolts help?” Richard, another of the original owners asked. Ray was
modifying the house that he and Jana had moved into and Richard had come over
to check out the work.
“No,
they’re too small,” answered Ray. “But thanks anyway.”
“You know,
Ray, there are some things you’ll need to know about before you start coming to
our owner’s meetings,” said Richard,
“What kinds
of things?” asked Ray as he aligned the holes of a cross piece to its vertical
support.
“Well, let’s
just say that we have some decisions we’ll probably need your help making.
People are pretty sure that Starfire disrupts meetings too much for us to allow
her to attend. She’s like a broken record about some things. Many people here
are convinced that she is a borderline if not fully psychotic.”
Ray cinched
down the nut on the bolt, but listened. He felt like one of the elders of his
newly adopted tribe was confiding information necessary for his success with
the group.
***
They had been at The Ranch for three months out of a six month probationary period now and things were going well. Meetings were agreeable, flexible affairs with little of the vitriol implied by Richard earlier. Jana dutifully and enthusiastically took minutes that reflected the easy mood. Consensus was easily reached on when to have parties, whose artwork should appear in the community room, and purchasing new pool furniture.
Other ranch
duties had begun to bother Ray though. Residents agreed to a policy of doing
basic ranch maintenance using ranch labor.
Once a month each resident was supposed to work on basic chores. Ray had agreed to facilitate the workdays and
with paintbrushes, chainsaws, shovels, and power tools he had jumped in. He was aware that he liked to work, that it
reminded him of the Midwest and working on dairy farms.
Occasionally,
other owners joined in, but for the most part, renters made up the work force.
Owners had excuses like doing an art show or being out of town or not feeling
good, but renters paid if they didn’t work.
Richard
took him aside one morning and explained that owners weren’t really required to
work. They could if they wanted to, but would never be charged for missing a
workday.
Ray brought
this up at a meeting when all of the other business had been discussed. “I’m
curious why more owners don’t show up for workdays,” he said after raising his
hand and getting the invitation to speak from the facilitator.
Richard
looked at the others as if to say “I’ll handle this.” And began explaining,
like one would to a child. “We have been at the business of running this place
for almost twenty years and have learned to interpret some of our policies
liberally. Owners don’t have to work
because they already do so much work and have paid to be here. Renters just live here and are required to
help maintain the place to keep rents low.
If they don’t like that, they can move out.”
Other
owners nodded. “That’s right,” he heard
a few say.
Dando came
in and explained that his work was his art.
That he contributed what he felt like contributing, and that when he got
tired, he went home. Simple as that.
Ron,
explained that, as bookkeeper, he “did not do shovel,” and left it at that.
“But what
if we have a task that requires we all work, such as fixing a roof, and that
‘doing what you want’ doesn’t help get that done?” asked Ray.
Jana glared
at him at first and then looked at the other owners who had the look of
surprise that a newlywed has when she realizes that the honeymoon is over.
“We’ll get
it done,” soothed Richard as Dando, Ron, and Rigida all nodded in assent.
“We’ve been
getting it done for twenty years, and we haven’t died yet, right Dando?” asked
Jude. “And we’ve always gotten along once we realized how things are done
around here.”
“This has
been a problem for a long time now,” said Starfire, breaking the momentum to
just drop the whole thing. “We’ve had a two tier system that shows we just
haven’t worked through all of our issues around domination. People still act
like they are the parents of The Ranch and attack any opposing points of view.”
“There you
go again,” said Aurora and Rigida almost simultaneously. “You’re impossible to
work with and disrupt any attempts we make to manage this place harmoniously.”
“Rigida,
you are so oppressed. Don’t you see how
Richard has you talking his line rather than recognizing the truth?”
“Oh don’t
go and psychologize me. I can’t stand it when you do that,” cried Rigida, tears
welling. She stood quickly, turned and
strode to the door before opening it and leaving.
The air was
charged. “Well, I think we should table this discussion,” offered the
facilitator.
“Second,”
boomed Richard.
All
but Starfire agreed. Ray and Jana were
not yet eligible to vote.
As the meeting broke up, Richard again pulled
Ray aside. “See what I mean? She’s the
fly in the ointment around here and we will have to do something about
her.” He waited for Ray to nod or to
assent somehow. The moment passed.
“Well, it’s a problem,” said Richard, collecting himself. “How is Jana doing with her preganancy?”
“ She’s
handling it. Morning sickness has been
pretty bad, but is getting better,” answered Ray.
“Good. We all look forward to having you become
owners. Remember that it only takes one owner to prevent that from happening,”
he said. He winked and left Ray standing
alone in the Comm-Unity Room.
No comments:
Post a Comment