CHAPTER FIVE
FALLING IN LOVE
My brother Johannes was living in an intentional community in Northern Ireland that was part of a Biodynamic farm and I decided to join him there. The transition from four years of isolated farms and agricultural school to a very intense community of two hundred people was difficult for me. Glencraig, as the community is called, is part of the world wide Camphill Movement that works with people with developmental disabilities. It is a magical property with a small herd of dairy cows and extensive gardens and sits right on the Belfast Loch. The work on the farm was tailored to the needs of the developmentally disabled and we tried to keep the work place simple and people friendly. At that time, we milked six to eight cows by hand and there was always lots of shovel and wheelbarrow work for those who could do it. On the other hand, we did have tractors and equipment to do the heavy work such as hay-making.
Glencraig also had a school for children with developmental disabilities and a three-year training course for the coworkers. The way that Camphill works is that everybody is a volunteer with no pay, and we all shared our lives with the disabled. All our financial needs were taken care of, including vacations, and I felt good about this arrangement
It was at Glencraig that I experienced that the care of the land is a community activity and not something that was the sole responsibility of the farmer. Every Sunday morning we had a land group meeting which many of the community members attended. The farmers would give a report of the week’s activity and future projects. As the community tried to be self-sufficient in food, the house mothers were always interested in the vegetables and other produce such as the number of gallons of milk they would receive that week sometimes the farmers would have complaints. One time the cows got out because somebody left a gate open, and consequently the veggies got trampled. Long range needs were also discussed and how these fitted into the resources of the community. Questions always arose such as whether it was really necessary to get a new tractor and, if yes, how the community could pay for it.
What spoke to me most strongly at Glencraig was the spiritual foundation of the community. Every morning after breakfast, each household would gather and read a passage from the bible. Then, on Saturday evening, the houses would hold a bible evening that was based on the last supper. We would sit in silence for twenty minutes and then a candle would be lit and we would move to the dining table and share a simple meal of bread and salt and a glass of grape juice. While eating, the conversation would revolve around special experiences that people had during the week and steer away from day-to-day troubles. Then the table would be cleared and the bible read. The person reading would lead the conversation but everybody could join in. Reading the bible every morning and then joining in communion with the other members once a week was central to the community and gave it cohesion.
The festivals were also celebrated, with artistic activities such as drama productions based on the spiritual aspect of the festival. There were also opportunities to be part of a study group, when one of Rudolf Steiner’s books would be read and often on a Sunday evening there would be a lecture by one of the community leaders. I loved the spiritual aspect of the community, but after six months of this intense living I was burned out. I was still struggling with feeling comfortable with people. I must have been shy because people would make jokes like, “Walter said three words today!” As far as I was concerned I was lying low, seeing how everything worked after having been alone on farms for so long. For one thing, there were more young women than men and I was definitely being checked out. The previous three years had been very lonely and I was a little over-whelmed by all the people and community activities. In the evenings, the young co workers were expected to lead activities with the handicapped adults and I found myself supervising sessions at the heated swimming pool with one of the women coworkers. Joan had a cute bikini and shinning dark eyes and I fell for her. She lived two houses down the drive and I noticed that every Sunday at about two she posted her letters back home. I would give her a few minutes head start and then saunter out and accidently bump into her. She was much more astute then me. Years later she told me that she knew that we would get married the first time she saw me.
Part of my troubles at Glencraig stemmed from the fact that I was exhausted. Being young and in love, Joan and I would chat and make out till twelve or one in the morning and then go to sleep. It was summer time and Northern Ireland, being so far north starts to get light soon after three. I would wake up and wait for six to roll around, so I could go milk the cows. Paul the other farmer had a wife with a baby that cried all night so he didn’t bother coming to milking on a regular basis. Milking eight cows by hand by myself before breakfast with too little sleep didn’t start the day right. After six months, I needed a change and I applied to Emerson College an Anthroposophical school, in Sussex, England where I was accepted.
Being a student was wonderful as I had little responsibility. After Glencraig, where everything was so intense, it was necessary for me to stand back and take in everything I had experienced. I missed Joan terribly but she was upset with me for leaving Glencraig and doing my own thing. She decided to go back to the States and get her Masters degree in Waldorf Education.
At Emerson, I could be as engaged with the other students as much or as little as I wanted. The school is based on the work of Rudolf Steiner and offered a foundation year of Anthroposophical studies which could lead into a second year of specialization. No credits or grades were offered so it was totally a self-enrichment program. The mornings were more intellectual, with lectures and study groups and the rest of the day would involve activities like arts and crafts and wood work. If life got too intense, I had my favorite spot in the library where I could read or I would play hooky and go for three-hour walks in the Ashdown Forest.
Meanwhile, back in the States, Joan decided that she would take a teaching position in South East Pennsylvania at Kimberton Waldorf School. This was tough for me as I didn’t have any interest in moving to the States. However, Joan’s parents offered me a job painting their house so I spent the summer on Long Island, painting. By the end of the summer we decided we would get married and we moved down to Pennsylvania. The Waldorf School had a five- hundred-acre farm attached to it but it was still being farmed conventionally with the old farm manager. However, across the river, a new Camphill community with three hundred and fifty acres of land had just been started. This land was going to be farmed Biodynamically and I moved there to help in the farming operation. All this land had been the estate of Mr. Maryn, the founder of Sunoco Oil. Mr. Maryn was a follower of Rudolf Steiner and helped found Kimberton Waldorf School and after his death the rest of the estate was gifted to Camphill.
I was twenty four when we married. The wedding service was in the old ballroom of the mansion. As the priest walked into the room I experienced a moment of confusion and the veils’ to the spiritual world fell away. The room was crowded with our friends and community members, but all around and filling the space above and around us there were spiritual beings looking on, and celebrating our sacrament of marriage. I felt that our vows were witnessed by both our friends and spiritual beings. It was a reminder that our world is not so separate from the spiritual world and that what we do is important on many levels.
Joan and I spent our next four years in Camphill, Kimberton. She taught at the Kimberton Waldorf School and commuted back and forth. She really was an excellent teacher; she put her heart and soul into it and was loved by her students. Being part of two intense communities was not easy and we realized that eventually we would leave. A Waldorf school asks for a time commitment from the teacher as she moves with her class through the grades. When fourth grade finished we started looking for our own farm. Meanwhile I had a wonderful opportunity to take over the management of the farm and start the conversion to Biodynamic farm practices. I not only learned about running a farm but also about living in an intentional community. We milked about forty cows and farmed three hundred acres. By the end, there were four coworkers and three mentally handicapped people on the farm. There were too many people for me, but that was part of the work of Camphill and community living. In addition I really wanted to find out if I could farm on my own without the support of a community.
When the school year finished, we packed up and started looking for our farm. We were both twenty-eight and ready to find out what we could do on our own.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
CHAPTER FOUR
The Flight of a Hawk….and Biodynamics
My life seems to go in cycles and every seventh year, things change for me. When I was seven, I choose to go to boarding school and then again at fourteen, I made a major change. I was very close to Liesbet and at this time she married a sheep farmer. Her husband to be, Rod had a beautiful hill farm with seven thousand sheep and four hundred beef cattle, all on sixteen hundred acres. The farm looked like a park and was located at the end of a seven-mile gravel road. The land was divided into many paddocks and the greenness stretched from one hill to the next. In the hollows there were lakes and ponds and patches of native bush. Here and there would be flocks of sheep and cattle and there was a quietness pervading the whole. During my vacations, I would stay on the farm and help with the work. All the stock work was done on horseback and at lambing time we would spend six to eight hours riding around helping any ewes that were having problems and saving lost lambs. It would be springtime and on a beautiful day with a blue sky, the hawks wheeling overhead, the lambs playing and the gentle calling of the mothers, I felt that life was good. There were other days when the rain would be driving across the saddle and by lunch my hands would be so stiff and cold that I could barely undo the girth straps and take off the bridle. This too brings back memories of animals saved and good work done.
In contrast to this, school was not so fulfilling. Looking back, I realize that high school could not give me what I needed. I wanted to be part of the world and to succeed. I worked hard to be successful in school academics and sports. I had friends but by sixteen I felt disappointed in humanity and was pinning for the solitude of the farm. While I didn’t realize it at the time, school had no room for my search for spirit and I learned to hide my true being. I liked farming where I could get away from people and I really enjoyed the work and being in nature. Nature can seem hard and indifferent but it accepted the way I was. I decided that my vocation would be farming.
I graduated from High School in 1966 when the hippie movement was in full swing and we thought we could change the world. Rachael Carson’s book Silent Spring confirmed my suspicion that we were fighting nature, traveling down a destructive road. The photographs of our planet from outer space were particularly moving to me, letting me experience how beautiful but fragile our earth is.
After high school, I worked on farms for two years and then went to agricultural school for two six-month periods, with a six-month farm stint between them. During those first two years on farms, I was doing correspondence courses and after all this I got my agriculture diploma. This sequence gave me a good grounding in conventional farming while searching for a way that would acknowledge the spirituality of the earth and allow me to work with these forces.
I was lucky in that my parents were sympathetic to my interests and introduced me to Biodynamic farming. Here I found a belief that the physical world is a reflection of the spiritual world, and that we could work directly with these spiritual forces. At this time I was working on a beautiful farm that was on a plateau wedged between the ocean and mountains. I spent many hours sitting on a tractor doing field work. By modern standards, these were smaller tractors with no cabs, air-conditioning or radios. You are not so cut off from nature as you are now on the modern tractors. Ploughing was especially fun. There is a real skill in keeping the rows straight and even, and as the front wheel of the tractor moves slowly down the furrow, you can look behind and watch the earth roll over in long ridges. The gulls would follow all day long, looking for grubs and worms, and it was very peaceful. I would be by myself all day and had no access to the media such as newspapers or television. I had become interested in Anthroposophy and would study in the evenings. One night I was lying in bed, meditating when I experienced myself floating in the corner of the room looking down at my body. This really freaked me out as I didn’t know how to get back in. The shock drew me back into my body but as I had nobody to talk to about this experience, I decided to stop that particular meditation. Now of course I would love to repeat the experience but my mind is too full of distraction.
While working on this farm, I had an accident and cut my wrist with a chainsaw. I cut two tendons and the hospital had to put my arm in a cast. I could not work for two months and took this opportunity to visit some Biodynamic farms. I was especially taken by one of the farmers and how he stopped our talking to look up into the sky to follow the beautiful flight of a hawk. He was getting close to retirement and I sensed that he had a deep wisdom and gratitude towards nature. If this was what Biodynamic farming did for a person, then I would follow in his footsteps. Soon after, I left New Zealand to learn about Biodynamic farming in England.
The Flight of a Hawk….and Biodynamics
My life seems to go in cycles and every seventh year, things change for me. When I was seven, I choose to go to boarding school and then again at fourteen, I made a major change. I was very close to Liesbet and at this time she married a sheep farmer. Her husband to be, Rod had a beautiful hill farm with seven thousand sheep and four hundred beef cattle, all on sixteen hundred acres. The farm looked like a park and was located at the end of a seven-mile gravel road. The land was divided into many paddocks and the greenness stretched from one hill to the next. In the hollows there were lakes and ponds and patches of native bush. Here and there would be flocks of sheep and cattle and there was a quietness pervading the whole. During my vacations, I would stay on the farm and help with the work. All the stock work was done on horseback and at lambing time we would spend six to eight hours riding around helping any ewes that were having problems and saving lost lambs. It would be springtime and on a beautiful day with a blue sky, the hawks wheeling overhead, the lambs playing and the gentle calling of the mothers, I felt that life was good. There were other days when the rain would be driving across the saddle and by lunch my hands would be so stiff and cold that I could barely undo the girth straps and take off the bridle. This too brings back memories of animals saved and good work done.
In contrast to this, school was not so fulfilling. Looking back, I realize that high school could not give me what I needed. I wanted to be part of the world and to succeed. I worked hard to be successful in school academics and sports. I had friends but by sixteen I felt disappointed in humanity and was pinning for the solitude of the farm. While I didn’t realize it at the time, school had no room for my search for spirit and I learned to hide my true being. I liked farming where I could get away from people and I really enjoyed the work and being in nature. Nature can seem hard and indifferent but it accepted the way I was. I decided that my vocation would be farming.
I graduated from High School in 1966 when the hippie movement was in full swing and we thought we could change the world. Rachael Carson’s book Silent Spring confirmed my suspicion that we were fighting nature, traveling down a destructive road. The photographs of our planet from outer space were particularly moving to me, letting me experience how beautiful but fragile our earth is.
After high school, I worked on farms for two years and then went to agricultural school for two six-month periods, with a six-month farm stint between them. During those first two years on farms, I was doing correspondence courses and after all this I got my agriculture diploma. This sequence gave me a good grounding in conventional farming while searching for a way that would acknowledge the spirituality of the earth and allow me to work with these forces.
I was lucky in that my parents were sympathetic to my interests and introduced me to Biodynamic farming. Here I found a belief that the physical world is a reflection of the spiritual world, and that we could work directly with these spiritual forces. At this time I was working on a beautiful farm that was on a plateau wedged between the ocean and mountains. I spent many hours sitting on a tractor doing field work. By modern standards, these were smaller tractors with no cabs, air-conditioning or radios. You are not so cut off from nature as you are now on the modern tractors. Ploughing was especially fun. There is a real skill in keeping the rows straight and even, and as the front wheel of the tractor moves slowly down the furrow, you can look behind and watch the earth roll over in long ridges. The gulls would follow all day long, looking for grubs and worms, and it was very peaceful. I would be by myself all day and had no access to the media such as newspapers or television. I had become interested in Anthroposophy and would study in the evenings. One night I was lying in bed, meditating when I experienced myself floating in the corner of the room looking down at my body. This really freaked me out as I didn’t know how to get back in. The shock drew me back into my body but as I had nobody to talk to about this experience, I decided to stop that particular meditation. Now of course I would love to repeat the experience but my mind is too full of distraction.
While working on this farm, I had an accident and cut my wrist with a chainsaw. I cut two tendons and the hospital had to put my arm in a cast. I could not work for two months and took this opportunity to visit some Biodynamic farms. I was especially taken by one of the farmers and how he stopped our talking to look up into the sky to follow the beautiful flight of a hawk. He was getting close to retirement and I sensed that he had a deep wisdom and gratitude towards nature. If this was what Biodynamic farming did for a person, then I would follow in his footsteps. Soon after, I left New Zealand to learn about Biodynamic farming in England.
CHAPTER THREE
A BIRTH AND ALMOST DEATH
When I was a young boy, my family moved a lot. My father was raised in Indonesia, a tropical haven, part of the Netherlands East Indian empire. My grandfather, being Dutch and therefore a traveler, ran the post office in Surabiu, one of the big cities, and they enjoyed the comforts of colonial life When he retired, in the 1930s my father was fourteen and so they all moved back home to Holland. I think my father always longed to return to his boyhood home but the Second World War interfered and then Indonesia demanded its independence.
It was during the war when Germany was occupying Holland that my parents met and despite the risks, married and started a family. My sister Liesbet was born in 1944, while Europe lay in ruins, and two years later my brother Johannes arrived. My father was eager to get away from the devastation of the war and back to his boyhood roots. He joined a company that was opening a lumber camp in the jungles of Borneo. This was in 1948, when Indonesia was recovering from the Japanese occupation and had just declared independence from Holland. To get to the village, you had to take a boat trip. I have no memories of this time, but think it took about five days once leaving Jakarta, Indonesia. Now the jungle where I was born is a city of half a million people, but at that time it was a native settlement with two or three other Dutch couples to start the lumbering. My father’s job was to put the infrastructure like the roads and electricity in place. Out of the swamps and jungle, my father laid out and started a new city. I have never revisited the city but once I saw it on the news, as they were having riots there.
After arriving, my mother became pregnant with me. I don’t think I was part of the plan as my mother was trying to find her place in a small jungle settlement next to her husband and two children. It was much too risky to have a baby in the jungle with inadequate medical facilities, so my mother had to take the boat back to Jakarta where she and I could be properly cared for. Unfortunately, she felt lonely in a strange city and nothing in her upbringing had prepared her for this. Being strong-willed, she promptly sailed back to be with her husband despite the risks. I was born with the help of the two Dutch ladies who were also living there. Apparently there was a local doctor but he was sent away as more nuisance then help. However he was able to save my life a few hours later because I caught a tropical disease. I developed a high fever and there was nothing to do about it because I was going to die. I was in luck though, as the doctor finally confided to my father that he had a new wonder drug called penicillin. He only knew the dose for adults and he hoped that he and my father could think up a good quantity to give a twelve-hour-old baby. So I survived being somewhat unwanted and born into a hot humid world with inadequate sanitation and a shot of penicillin. For a long time I have had a feeling that my birth was not a happy time for me and recently I visited Jay, a hypnotherapist who helped me to reexperience my birth. As I entered the birth canal, I again felt the pain and anger of not being wanted. It was my right to have a loving mother to help me on my journey from spirit into the physical world and I did not want to be born without that. It was my sister Liesbet who made me feel welcome in her love and enthusiasm for her new baby brother. Later my mother was able to accept me and to shower me with her love and warmth and I became part of the family constellation. My birth taught me to be independent and sensitive about not being wanted. It was hard then to be trustful of people. Looking back at my life, it has been interesting to see how I have often set myself up to confirm this belief that I am not wanted.
A BIRTH AND ALMOST DEATH
When I was a young boy, my family moved a lot. My father was raised in Indonesia, a tropical haven, part of the Netherlands East Indian empire. My grandfather, being Dutch and therefore a traveler, ran the post office in Surabiu, one of the big cities, and they enjoyed the comforts of colonial life When he retired, in the 1930s my father was fourteen and so they all moved back home to Holland. I think my father always longed to return to his boyhood home but the Second World War interfered and then Indonesia demanded its independence.
It was during the war when Germany was occupying Holland that my parents met and despite the risks, married and started a family. My sister Liesbet was born in 1944, while Europe lay in ruins, and two years later my brother Johannes arrived. My father was eager to get away from the devastation of the war and back to his boyhood roots. He joined a company that was opening a lumber camp in the jungles of Borneo. This was in 1948, when Indonesia was recovering from the Japanese occupation and had just declared independence from Holland. To get to the village, you had to take a boat trip. I have no memories of this time, but think it took about five days once leaving Jakarta, Indonesia. Now the jungle where I was born is a city of half a million people, but at that time it was a native settlement with two or three other Dutch couples to start the lumbering. My father’s job was to put the infrastructure like the roads and electricity in place. Out of the swamps and jungle, my father laid out and started a new city. I have never revisited the city but once I saw it on the news, as they were having riots there.
After arriving, my mother became pregnant with me. I don’t think I was part of the plan as my mother was trying to find her place in a small jungle settlement next to her husband and two children. It was much too risky to have a baby in the jungle with inadequate medical facilities, so my mother had to take the boat back to Jakarta where she and I could be properly cared for. Unfortunately, she felt lonely in a strange city and nothing in her upbringing had prepared her for this. Being strong-willed, she promptly sailed back to be with her husband despite the risks. I was born with the help of the two Dutch ladies who were also living there. Apparently there was a local doctor but he was sent away as more nuisance then help. However he was able to save my life a few hours later because I caught a tropical disease. I developed a high fever and there was nothing to do about it because I was going to die. I was in luck though, as the doctor finally confided to my father that he had a new wonder drug called penicillin. He only knew the dose for adults and he hoped that he and my father could think up a good quantity to give a twelve-hour-old baby. So I survived being somewhat unwanted and born into a hot humid world with inadequate sanitation and a shot of penicillin. For a long time I have had a feeling that my birth was not a happy time for me and recently I visited Jay, a hypnotherapist who helped me to reexperience my birth. As I entered the birth canal, I again felt the pain and anger of not being wanted. It was my right to have a loving mother to help me on my journey from spirit into the physical world and I did not want to be born without that. It was my sister Liesbet who made me feel welcome in her love and enthusiasm for her new baby brother. Later my mother was able to accept me and to shower me with her love and warmth and I became part of the family constellation. My birth taught me to be independent and sensitive about not being wanted. It was hard then to be trustful of people. Looking back at my life, it has been interesting to see how I have often set myself up to confirm this belief that I am not wanted.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
CHAPTER TWO
CAST OUT OF NATURE
After my heroic first day, I believe life settled down but I have no way of knowing for sure, as my family history has pretty well disappeared. My parents both passed away some twenty years ago and Liesbet, who was five years older than me and who remembered more of our youth, died of a brain tumor more than two years ago. I do know that when I was about two, we had to flee Borneo. At that time, Kelantan or the bottom Dutch part of Borneo became part of Indonesia and the liberation troops came through firing guns. As they marched past, my parents made us lie on the floor with all the furniture and mattresses surrounding us, before taking the first boat out and landing in Malaysia. Malaysia was ruled by the British and for the colonists, life was comfortable. We had a nice house with four servants, and the swimming club was five minutes down the road. Our mother would take us to the pool every afternoon, where we could play with our friends, staying cool in the water, while the ladies could sit and chatter or play Mahjong. Actually, my mother got bored with this frivolous life style and, as she was a trained kindergarten teacher, she started her own school. Young children loved her and she had no problem handling twenty-five children with the help of the maid. For me, it was not always so great. I did not appreciate sharing my mother with so many children. One day I got so upset that I threw a temper tantrum and my mother called the maid over and told her to take me to my bedroom until I behaved myself. This was a horrible experience for me and I still remember the feeling of not being wanted and being banished for saying what I needed. I know that my mother had a job to do, but she could have handled it differently. I wished she had held me and let me know that I was the most important person in her life at that moment. That little episode certainly reinforced my feelings of not being able to trust the world and that it was best not to show my feelings. On the whole, though, I know I had a very loving home life.
Part of the tropical lifestyle was traveling back to the home country. Every three years, we would get a six-month paid vacation. As commercial air travel did not yet exist, we would take a three-week cruise from Singapore past India up through the Suez Canal and on to England via the Mediterranean Sea. This was a wonderful exciting trip, and then we would rent a cottage in Holland, and use it as a base, to travel around Europe and visit family. On one of these trips, when I was seven, my parents had to decide what boarding school my older brother and sister should attend. In British colonial days, it was the custom to send children to boarding school when they turned nine in order to get a proper education and be indoctrinated into the system. They chose Michael Hall School, about thirty miles south of London. This was a co-ed boarding school based on Rudolf Steiner’s Waldorf Education and would allow the three of us to be at the same school. At the end of the vacation, my siblings had to start school so my mother and I stayed on in England for an extra six months. I was allowed to join Class One where I made many friends and loved my teacher. It was a wrench for me to go back to Malaysia and go into the local army school. I still remember the day I decided that I had had enough. I was a very dreamy boy and had no idea what the teacher was talking about, which didn’t bother me. Anyway, he called me up to the front of the class and realized I was eating candy, which I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed. He promptly made me spit it out in front of everyone and stand in the corner. When I got home that day, I informed my parents that I wasn’t going back and that I wanted to go to school in England. I made such a fuss each day that they finally relented and put me on a flight to England with some friends. I arrived back at boarding school at Easter time at the grand age of seven but was lucky in that the three of us were all in the same hostel with about twenty other children. Liesbet would come and read me a story before bed every night and tuck me in. I loved school and still have some of the letters that my teacher sent to my parents. This one was written just after my return.
Dear Mrs. Moora,
Walter seemed to settle in at once and seems very happy except that he thinks he is too clever for Class One and tells everyone so. I don’t quite know why he thinks this except he writes easily and well. However he works hard in spite of this and enjoys the lessons. He is a strong character and good boy, who will lead the other children in the right way. I can imagine how you must miss the children, I think it was very brave of you to let Wally come, but I am sure he will be much better off away from that school.
With best wishes,
Joyce Russell.
Another letter that was part of my first class report went as follows. “Wally works well on the whole, though he is fond of play time too. He doesn’t say that he is too clever for the class anymore, as he realizes now that some of the others know more than he does. He is just about right for his age as he knows the letters and will be ready to start reading next term. His writing is very good and his number work about average. His chief friend is David Newbatt as they are together in the hostel and both are choleric and can stand up to each other. They are very good for each other. Wally is friends with all the children, he has been asked out many times. He is so good-natured and such fun that they all love him. Yours sincerely, Joyce Russell.
I have very fond memories of that time but I always felt a little different, as I had a stranger’s accent wherever I went. Even after living in the States for more than thirty years, people still ask me where I come from. With her three children in England, my mother was torn between being with her husband in Malaysia and with us, so when I was nine we all moved to New Zealand so that we could be together as a family. Our first house was in the country, surrounded by fields and bush. As children, we were able to roam the countryside and explore nature. I remember one afternoon in particular, as I was passing through a patch of bush, that somehow the birds sounded different. New Zealand is famous for its many native birds, that are well known for their beautiful song and I had always felt at one with them. But now the birds felt outside of me, as if I wasn’t part of nature anymore. I was a spectator and felt horrible. It was a fleeting moment but I have always remembered having this experience of being cast out of paradise. I have spent much of my life trying to regain oneness with nature and the spiritual world.
CAST OUT OF NATURE
After my heroic first day, I believe life settled down but I have no way of knowing for sure, as my family history has pretty well disappeared. My parents both passed away some twenty years ago and Liesbet, who was five years older than me and who remembered more of our youth, died of a brain tumor more than two years ago. I do know that when I was about two, we had to flee Borneo. At that time, Kelantan or the bottom Dutch part of Borneo became part of Indonesia and the liberation troops came through firing guns. As they marched past, my parents made us lie on the floor with all the furniture and mattresses surrounding us, before taking the first boat out and landing in Malaysia. Malaysia was ruled by the British and for the colonists, life was comfortable. We had a nice house with four servants, and the swimming club was five minutes down the road. Our mother would take us to the pool every afternoon, where we could play with our friends, staying cool in the water, while the ladies could sit and chatter or play Mahjong. Actually, my mother got bored with this frivolous life style and, as she was a trained kindergarten teacher, she started her own school. Young children loved her and she had no problem handling twenty-five children with the help of the maid. For me, it was not always so great. I did not appreciate sharing my mother with so many children. One day I got so upset that I threw a temper tantrum and my mother called the maid over and told her to take me to my bedroom until I behaved myself. This was a horrible experience for me and I still remember the feeling of not being wanted and being banished for saying what I needed. I know that my mother had a job to do, but she could have handled it differently. I wished she had held me and let me know that I was the most important person in her life at that moment. That little episode certainly reinforced my feelings of not being able to trust the world and that it was best not to show my feelings. On the whole, though, I know I had a very loving home life.
Part of the tropical lifestyle was traveling back to the home country. Every three years, we would get a six-month paid vacation. As commercial air travel did not yet exist, we would take a three-week cruise from Singapore past India up through the Suez Canal and on to England via the Mediterranean Sea. This was a wonderful exciting trip, and then we would rent a cottage in Holland, and use it as a base, to travel around Europe and visit family. On one of these trips, when I was seven, my parents had to decide what boarding school my older brother and sister should attend. In British colonial days, it was the custom to send children to boarding school when they turned nine in order to get a proper education and be indoctrinated into the system. They chose Michael Hall School, about thirty miles south of London. This was a co-ed boarding school based on Rudolf Steiner’s Waldorf Education and would allow the three of us to be at the same school. At the end of the vacation, my siblings had to start school so my mother and I stayed on in England for an extra six months. I was allowed to join Class One where I made many friends and loved my teacher. It was a wrench for me to go back to Malaysia and go into the local army school. I still remember the day I decided that I had had enough. I was a very dreamy boy and had no idea what the teacher was talking about, which didn’t bother me. Anyway, he called me up to the front of the class and realized I was eating candy, which I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed. He promptly made me spit it out in front of everyone and stand in the corner. When I got home that day, I informed my parents that I wasn’t going back and that I wanted to go to school in England. I made such a fuss each day that they finally relented and put me on a flight to England with some friends. I arrived back at boarding school at Easter time at the grand age of seven but was lucky in that the three of us were all in the same hostel with about twenty other children. Liesbet would come and read me a story before bed every night and tuck me in. I loved school and still have some of the letters that my teacher sent to my parents. This one was written just after my return.
Dear Mrs. Moora,
Walter seemed to settle in at once and seems very happy except that he thinks he is too clever for Class One and tells everyone so. I don’t quite know why he thinks this except he writes easily and well. However he works hard in spite of this and enjoys the lessons. He is a strong character and good boy, who will lead the other children in the right way. I can imagine how you must miss the children, I think it was very brave of you to let Wally come, but I am sure he will be much better off away from that school.
With best wishes,
Joyce Russell.
Another letter that was part of my first class report went as follows. “Wally works well on the whole, though he is fond of play time too. He doesn’t say that he is too clever for the class anymore, as he realizes now that some of the others know more than he does. He is just about right for his age as he knows the letters and will be ready to start reading next term. His writing is very good and his number work about average. His chief friend is David Newbatt as they are together in the hostel and both are choleric and can stand up to each other. They are very good for each other. Wally is friends with all the children, he has been asked out many times. He is so good-natured and such fun that they all love him. Yours sincerely, Joyce Russell.
I have very fond memories of that time but I always felt a little different, as I had a stranger’s accent wherever I went. Even after living in the States for more than thirty years, people still ask me where I come from. With her three children in England, my mother was torn between being with her husband in Malaysia and with us, so when I was nine we all moved to New Zealand so that we could be together as a family. Our first house was in the country, surrounded by fields and bush. As children, we were able to roam the countryside and explore nature. I remember one afternoon in particular, as I was passing through a patch of bush, that somehow the birds sounded different. New Zealand is famous for its many native birds, that are well known for their beautiful song and I had always felt at one with them. But now the birds felt outside of me, as if I wasn’t part of nature anymore. I was a spectator and felt horrible. It was a fleeting moment but I have always remembered having this experience of being cast out of paradise. I have spent much of my life trying to regain oneness with nature and the spiritual world.
CHAPTER ONE
LETTING GO
By the time I turned seventeen, I knew I wanted to farm and most of my life I have followed my dream. There were times when I had to do other things, but during those times I was never happy. Then, in December of 2006, when I turned fifty-seven, I decided it was time to stop. This decision was not easy because I was ready to keep farming until the bank closed me down. I had been on my Wisconsin farm for nine years and it was my last chance to make a go of it. I really needed to make this farm work because my whole identity was tied up with having a model Biodynamic farm. It was more than just the money. It was part of my being, to show that Biodynamic farming really worked and to demonstrate the richness of the soil farmed this way. My poor wife, Susan was watching me go down; she even put in a large chunk of her retirement money to support me and the farm. I was still enjoying the work well enough, but not the way I used to. Getting up at 4.30 a.m. on a crystal-clear January morning in Wisconsin with the stars wheeling overhead is reward on its own. But the challenge was gone. Sitting on a tractor for eight hours straight, trying to get the corn in before the rain, now seemed more appropriate work for a younger man. I was still too stubborn to quit and so my body decided to just make the point. Every few months my back would go out. I mean really out. It was so painful that I would lie down, and not be able to move. Just peeing into a bottle took ten minutes, ten minutes of excruciating pain. After taking muscle relaxants and pain killers for two days, I would be able to hobble into the Osteopath’s office. Meanwhile my herdsman would get exhausted doing all the milking and other chores. I would have to start working before being properly healed and still in pain, and that is scary. My body was telling me it was time to quit but my mind was not yet willing.
Susan has a good friend who is also psychic and she helped me see the day light so that I could move on with my life She intuited that I had a sense that I would die if I failed at farming. Before moving to Wisconsin in 1998, I had a small farm in upstate New York where we grew vegetables and baked bread. To keep me busy in the winters, I built a wood-fired brick oven that could bake up to three hundred loaves in a day. I specialized in European sour dough breads that were the best in town and I did very well. However, I felt that I should be farming and that I had missed my vocation. Although I was doing well financially and had a wonderful wife and two great teenage kids, I secretly wished I would die. I thought that, in my next incarnation, maybe I could do better and get on with whatever I was meant to do. Martine had picked up this death wish and suggested I reprogram it into the positive. So we came up with three sentences that I had to repeat to myself on a daily basis. “I will be fine if I am not farming. My life’s work will not be wasted if I don’t farm, and I can still live in the country and be associated with farming.” The last sentence made it possible for me to transition into the future. Six months later, I decided to sell my cows and machinery and give up my farm lease.
Susan was ready for a change because we had both been working exhaustively hard all our lives. We started talking about a sabbatical to restore and redirect ourselves. We went into the unknowing and serendipity played with us. We now live in our own house in the Highlands of Ecuador, with the most beautiful view one can imagine. We hope to bridge the chasm between North and South for the good of both…and ourselves. We live just above Vilcabamba, in Southern Ecuador, at about six thousand feet. It was only in the 60s that a road was finally punched through the mountain pass and the valley became accessible to vehicles. Now there are thirty small hostels and hotels but it has retained its charm, with a small square surrounded by local shops, restaurants and the church.
I feel at home here. I can hardly believe it but I often spend hours on the patio, immersed in nature.. For close to forty years, I have been mostly farming and now I want to experience “being ”instead of “doing.” I have set myself an agenda that each morning before breakfast I meditate, then spend time studying Spanish and then turn to writing this book. If there is time left over I hike or spend more time on the patio. As I write, I am realizing that I may reach more people to explore the wonder of Biodynamics with this book than I ever could with a model Biodynamic farm and that is giving me great joy.
A friend suggested that I am comfortable here because I was born on the Equator in Borneo and now I am back, only on the other side of the world at 6,000 feet and with a new language to learn. I think there are additional reasons. We belonged to a Quaker meeting for many years and part of our spiritual practice was to tread lightly on the earth and to live at peace with the rest of the world. Back in the States, it’s hard not to be dragged into consumerism whereas here living without much is a way of life. We recently went back to Wisconsin for a couple of weeks and I went through some of the old catalogues. I wanted to pull out my credit card and order some really nice shirts for $55 that I didn’t need, because I had already bought some really nice $5 shirts back in Ecuador. And then there is The Homeland Security thing….it always sounds as if there is an Agent Orange Alert going on in the States. It’s hard being part of the fear mentality and knowing that many things we do in the States contribute to fear.
As we go through life, we have three congruent paths. Our life’s work or vocation, the group of people we live with or have karma with and our own personal development. These aspects come to the forefront at different times of our lives. Now I feel blessed that I can take time out and work on my own development for a while, before life catches up with me again.
I have had two main themes in my life, both revolving around the care of the earth. One has been healing the earth and producing good food through Biodynamic farming and the other has been to bring non-farmers onto the land. I want to teach you all how you can care for the earth in a spiritual fashion. I want to talk about the spirituality of the earth from a farmer’s perspective. I need some time to sink deeply into the beauty of the earth and rejuvenate myself. With no conscious planning, life brought us here to one of the most beautiful spots on the earth and we feel blessed. Maybe country-wise I am rootless, having farmed on four continents, but I feel grounded in the earth of the world.
LETTING GO
By the time I turned seventeen, I knew I wanted to farm and most of my life I have followed my dream. There were times when I had to do other things, but during those times I was never happy. Then, in December of 2006, when I turned fifty-seven, I decided it was time to stop. This decision was not easy because I was ready to keep farming until the bank closed me down. I had been on my Wisconsin farm for nine years and it was my last chance to make a go of it. I really needed to make this farm work because my whole identity was tied up with having a model Biodynamic farm. It was more than just the money. It was part of my being, to show that Biodynamic farming really worked and to demonstrate the richness of the soil farmed this way. My poor wife, Susan was watching me go down; she even put in a large chunk of her retirement money to support me and the farm. I was still enjoying the work well enough, but not the way I used to. Getting up at 4.30 a.m. on a crystal-clear January morning in Wisconsin with the stars wheeling overhead is reward on its own. But the challenge was gone. Sitting on a tractor for eight hours straight, trying to get the corn in before the rain, now seemed more appropriate work for a younger man. I was still too stubborn to quit and so my body decided to just make the point. Every few months my back would go out. I mean really out. It was so painful that I would lie down, and not be able to move. Just peeing into a bottle took ten minutes, ten minutes of excruciating pain. After taking muscle relaxants and pain killers for two days, I would be able to hobble into the Osteopath’s office. Meanwhile my herdsman would get exhausted doing all the milking and other chores. I would have to start working before being properly healed and still in pain, and that is scary. My body was telling me it was time to quit but my mind was not yet willing.
Susan has a good friend who is also psychic and she helped me see the day light so that I could move on with my life She intuited that I had a sense that I would die if I failed at farming. Before moving to Wisconsin in 1998, I had a small farm in upstate New York where we grew vegetables and baked bread. To keep me busy in the winters, I built a wood-fired brick oven that could bake up to three hundred loaves in a day. I specialized in European sour dough breads that were the best in town and I did very well. However, I felt that I should be farming and that I had missed my vocation. Although I was doing well financially and had a wonderful wife and two great teenage kids, I secretly wished I would die. I thought that, in my next incarnation, maybe I could do better and get on with whatever I was meant to do. Martine had picked up this death wish and suggested I reprogram it into the positive. So we came up with three sentences that I had to repeat to myself on a daily basis. “I will be fine if I am not farming. My life’s work will not be wasted if I don’t farm, and I can still live in the country and be associated with farming.” The last sentence made it possible for me to transition into the future. Six months later, I decided to sell my cows and machinery and give up my farm lease.
Susan was ready for a change because we had both been working exhaustively hard all our lives. We started talking about a sabbatical to restore and redirect ourselves. We went into the unknowing and serendipity played with us. We now live in our own house in the Highlands of Ecuador, with the most beautiful view one can imagine. We hope to bridge the chasm between North and South for the good of both…and ourselves. We live just above Vilcabamba, in Southern Ecuador, at about six thousand feet. It was only in the 60s that a road was finally punched through the mountain pass and the valley became accessible to vehicles. Now there are thirty small hostels and hotels but it has retained its charm, with a small square surrounded by local shops, restaurants and the church.
I feel at home here. I can hardly believe it but I often spend hours on the patio, immersed in nature.. For close to forty years, I have been mostly farming and now I want to experience “being ”instead of “doing.” I have set myself an agenda that each morning before breakfast I meditate, then spend time studying Spanish and then turn to writing this book. If there is time left over I hike or spend more time on the patio. As I write, I am realizing that I may reach more people to explore the wonder of Biodynamics with this book than I ever could with a model Biodynamic farm and that is giving me great joy.
A friend suggested that I am comfortable here because I was born on the Equator in Borneo and now I am back, only on the other side of the world at 6,000 feet and with a new language to learn. I think there are additional reasons. We belonged to a Quaker meeting for many years and part of our spiritual practice was to tread lightly on the earth and to live at peace with the rest of the world. Back in the States, it’s hard not to be dragged into consumerism whereas here living without much is a way of life. We recently went back to Wisconsin for a couple of weeks and I went through some of the old catalogues. I wanted to pull out my credit card and order some really nice shirts for $55 that I didn’t need, because I had already bought some really nice $5 shirts back in Ecuador. And then there is The Homeland Security thing….it always sounds as if there is an Agent Orange Alert going on in the States. It’s hard being part of the fear mentality and knowing that many things we do in the States contribute to fear.
As we go through life, we have three congruent paths. Our life’s work or vocation, the group of people we live with or have karma with and our own personal development. These aspects come to the forefront at different times of our lives. Now I feel blessed that I can take time out and work on my own development for a while, before life catches up with me again.
I have had two main themes in my life, both revolving around the care of the earth. One has been healing the earth and producing good food through Biodynamic farming and the other has been to bring non-farmers onto the land. I want to teach you all how you can care for the earth in a spiritual fashion. I want to talk about the spirituality of the earth from a farmer’s perspective. I need some time to sink deeply into the beauty of the earth and rejuvenate myself. With no conscious planning, life brought us here to one of the most beautiful spots on the earth and we feel blessed. Maybe country-wise I am rootless, having farmed on four continents, but I feel grounded in the earth of the world.
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