Stargazing

Well here we are again; hello and welcome! I think I'm beginning to get a feel for how long we're going to be here at Mandala. It's felt like months already, and we've only made it through ten days of classes. It's been barely two weeks! I'm only just realizing how much time we have, with hundreds of free evenings and countless classroom hours ahead of us. I still can't help rushing, trying to use every minute, but my aching muscles and drooping eyelids are signals I can no longer ignore. That being said, I've never felt more productive. Let me tell you what we've been doing!

Last you heard, Ian had just broken his feet, and we were launching into our second week of classes, preparing for the eminent Fourth of July celebration. It was a Monday. That evening Ian had a craving for Mexican food, so a group of us piled into two cars and sped into West End-- the town at the center of the seven lakes. When we got to the restaurant we found its lot empty and its windows darkened, so, after a short discussion with a loopy Ian, we decided to go to the Asian buffet. The whole town was sleepy, and the tiny restaurant was peacefully vacant when we strolled through its doors and shattered the silence. The room rang with the scraping of tables as we rearranged the seating, and the laughter that comes with sharing a meal with good friends. By the time we were finished, night had fallen completely. We wished the smiling owners a good night and left for home.

Most of us were excited the next morning as we prepared if not gleefully then at least joyfully for our day of music. One of my villa-mates, however, didn't wake up until minutes before we had to leave. He didn't get a ride. The day went by quickly, as our discussion of music philosophy bled into the time allotted for music history. It was interesting to see how the class reacted to the ongoing conversation. While many of the fellows deeply enjoyed the rapid-fire debate over the definition of music, others started getting annoyed, seeing the class going in circles, everyone's judgement clouded by his or her own presuppositions and definitions. After a few hours of instruction, debate, and confusion, Sensei Skogen revealed his secret: that had been his intention all along. In trying to discuss what we meant by music, we had glimpsed how tricky a subject it is to explore, and we realized how important it is to recognize our own biases.

We spent the rest of the morning absorbing music theory, and when we broke for lunch, we did so reluctantly. We all wanted food, but we were were eating up every word he had to tell us. After lunch, we practiced playing our group project in unison, and then went to work. Before we left, Caleb informed us that we would vote for the members of the music counsel the next day. The fellows spent the evening productively, primarily in our musical groups, putting the final touches on our performances.

We picked up our discussion of music the next morning, and again we ran out of time, some frustrated, some elated, but all of us excited to perform. We ate lunch and then performed, a few of us stumbling, but everyone doing well, especially for a first performance. I'm excited to see the knowledge spread as the well-trained and long-practiced fellows show the less-fortunate ones how to play. There are a few wonderfully skilled guitarists here, each with very different styles, all of which are a joy to hear. So Wednesday's classes came to an end, and we all let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the prospect of the holiday weekend. We went to work and met one last time at the Mandala House for astronomy class. After it was over, I was about to head home, when I heard a rumor about an adventure taking place that night. I traced it to its source and discovered that some of the guys had planned a hike to a "haunted" stretch of woods. Half an hour later, our two largest cars were cruising down the road, every seat-belt occupied, on our way to kick off the weekend.  I won't go into detail about the rest of the night, but by the time we got home at half-past one in the morning, we'd bonded over mutual fright, downed a collective few pounds of fast-food, and hung out with some off-duty firemen. It was a good night.

Most of us slept in on the Fourth, drifting over to the Mandala house when we were ready to socialize, except for a few who had to be at the house early to help with the party. When we arrived, we found a grand party and a large feast, with dozens of new faces, most of whom wanted to hear all about Mandala. I ran into an experienced swing dancer and we talked excitedly about dance for a few minutes before making our introductions. We were surprised and delighted to realize that we had already met online through our Lost Tools of Writing class. Needless to say, the evening turned into a swing dance as the two of us, Zack, Anna, and a succession of other dancers, both in the fellowship and out, shook the house with our stomping feet. We swam, danced, and partied ourselves to exhaustion, then left for bed.

Friday was much the same, but with a very relaxed feel as people lazily drifted in and out of the house all day. The afternoon found a bunch of fellows lying on the floor in the cool school room, listening to music, eating old fruit salad, and talking about who knows what. As evening approached, someone told Anna and me (Emily, my swinging friend, had left, and Zack was nowhere to be found) that there was swing music at the marina. Sure enough, we could hear the sound of a live band drifting over the water. We didn't lose any time in getting over there. A few fellows followed the music as well, and discovered us in a crowd of dancers, cutting a rug to the sound of old rock and roll.

By nightfall, the rest of the fellowship was there, hanging out on the floating dock. Some kid on shore started throwing rocks at us, so we returned to the house where we stayed up for a few more hours playing games. One by one, cars full of sleepy fellows drove slowly away. As the last few of us drifted home, we found a small group of our friends laying in the driveway, watching the stars. Realizing that we were not going to bed any time soon, we moved the party to the golf course, lying on the short grass and watching the stars as they slowly, ever so slowly, meandered their way around Polaris, that constant watcher.

Thus Friday came and went, and Saturday saw the Mandala house mostly empty of guests. We slept in again, and most of us tended to our houses that morning before heading to the lake. We spent a lazy few hours playing instruments, sunning, and chatting-- one group actually sailing-- before we left in a convoy to Southern Pines and the local Chick-fil-a. Next stop: Walmart, where we split into two groups: those who needed food, and those who were about to finance the next two months worth of movie nights from the bargain bin. A few of my fellows are on a quest to expose me, as an ignorant northerner and somewhat sheltered country boy, to things I've never done before. To that end, we stopped for frozen yogurt. It was there, thinking about everything I've done in the past few weeks, that I realized I am entirely satisfied with the south, and if I can just convince my family and friends, I'll never have to go north again.

When we got back to the house we went out on the boat, where Alec and I watched a beautifully serene sunset from the back of a treacherous water-tube pulled by a murderous William. Having received enough of a beating, we climbed back on-board and watched the others go. We finished the night with a movie and more stargazing, then climbed into bed, ready for church the next day.

Sunday morning found us all at the Skogens' church. After the service, we caravanned to Tobin Duby's house for a potluck and fellowship. We had a great time with him and his wife, taking turns reading from an O'Henry story, and chatting about life at Mandala. We spent the evening in our homes, relaxing and getting ready to do it all again.

Monday morning saw us in the classroom again, doing more SAT tests and learning from Mrs. Bortins. Brooke, one of our brilliant fellows, led the group in an experimental math game. After work, we met for our science projects in small groups across the villas. Ian wants to repay the girls for all of their hospitality, so he spent the early evening practicing at their house, preparing to make them dinner later in the week. We had stayed in on Sunday night, but when darkness fell on Monday, we hit the green again, this time much earlier in the evening, at ten o'clock. Most of the fellows were out there, spread out on a raft of blankets staring down into the ocean of stars, talking about the day and softly playing music, mindful of any neighbors who we might disrupt.  We were all in bed a few hours later.

So that leaves us here, on Tuesday. We discussed music all morning and spent this afternoon working on a new performance. The builders finished the floor in the new porch over the weekend, so the whole house is open for the first time. Some of the novelty is wearing off, and we're left with long school days and even longer days at work. The fellowship we have makes up for the stress of the day, and our evenings are delightful because of it. Tonight, however, is still a long way away, and we all have a lot to do before we can claim the embrace of the sky, so I'll bid you farewell and let you get back to your business as I get to mine.

Au revoir,
Barnabas