The Contentment of Angels

Think OutWord Session, February 6-8, 2009

By Mikel Berrier

Writing about the Think OutWord gathering that took place in Hawthorne Valley, NY, from February 6th through 9th, is not an easy thing. I could, of course, simply tell you the information that I acquired there: very interesting facts about the history of the Hawthorne Valley community, a very engaging account of the organization and inspiration behind Camphill communities in North America, the ins and outs of the local art scene, and helpful definitions of angels and archangels…but that would be missing the point. As Laura Summer (our master of ceremonies in social sculpture) pointed out after we had painted 4 huge panels and half-completed a collective art project that unfolded over two days - “this is not it.” The art is not the art, rather, it is the experience that matters. Being there, meeting people, sensing an atmosphere of openness and kindness.

Still, what did we do? Here is a random list (arranged alphabetically): Be inspired, Chat, Dialogue, Eat, Have small revelations, Hear what is not being said, Hold hands, Improvise collectively, Listen to interventions, Listen to poetry, Listen to what others have to say, Meet people, Occupy and organize the space, Reflect, Say grace, Sing, Mile, Speak up, Think outward, Wash dishes and clean up.

There were 43 participants. Each one of us came with questions, fears, our own “bags” (both real and metaphorical) that we had carried along, that we unpacked and eventually had to pack anew, with all that this entailed of shifting, adding, making room, forgetting, etc.

For myself, there are some very personal things that came out of the weekend which are not meant to be shared with the public. Luke Fischer, a philosopher and poet and fellow participant, said it thus:

The bud endures the winter

and only in its enclosure

do petals delicately

form…

There are two aspects, however, which I would like to share. These two aspects are like encounters.

Let us picture a question as a spiritual being, an angel, if you will (doesn’t a question mark look very much like an angel in profile?) That question-angel hovers in the background hoping to find an answer. When it finds an answer, it’s as if this spiritual being, who was full of yearning and desire, finally found contentment in the presence of another spiritual being that chanced to be there (or more realistically, struggled through endless events and world happenings to make it there and be present for that encounter). So let me share two question-angels with you that found their contentment during the weekend.

Question-angel 1

The first thing I did when I came back home was to write to my former physics teacher: “Yes, there is,” I wrote, “I’ve just come back from a weekend where it was living.” When I left France to come to this country two years ago, my former physics teacher, Mr. Micol, asked me if I knew of any anthroposophical circles where youth gathered and where there was fresh, new blood. I told him I knew of none. Indeed, in all the anthoposophical circles that I knew at the time, I was among the youngest participant (I am now 37!)

Question-angel 2

When I came to this country two years ago, I was expecting to find a version of anthroposophy that was infused with a new spirit. This world is the new world, I thought, there is bound to be more dynamism to anthroposophy here. In fact, during my readings of Whitman, Emerson, even Wallace Stevens, I had often thought that something in the American spirit would and could very well marry and intermingle with old world anthrophosophy as I knew it. I must say, however, that I was somewhat disappointed by my first encounter with American anthroposophists. They seemed to be repeating “Steiner hat gesagt” more often than their French counterparts.

These two angels found appeasement in Hawthorne Valley this past weekend. Sitting right across me in the circle was a young man talking, inspired by anthroposophy, and quoting directly from Emerson’s “Nature”! Indeed, everything about this weekend was young and new, yet totally true to anthroposophy.

What could I say to conclude? First, the obvious. That this conclusion needs to be porous, or, if you prefer, open. I would like to thank all the events and people that led me to that place. Thanks to that experience, new awakenings have budded in my soul, which I believe can bring renewal to myself and to those around me. Let us hope, then, that they will find water.