A gathering

My niece died recently - unexpectedly but of natural causes. She had lived in a commune in the Black Mountains in France, and though she had moved out to take a job in Toulouse, she went back most weekends.

It was on one of these weekend visits that she died. Her two sons, now 17 and 20 had been in part raised in the commune, and the older still lives there. The community and the boys organised the funeral.

I don't really want to write about the funeral. Like most it had both tragic and uplifting elements. But I would like to write a bit about the community, which I found very interesting.

I knew that Jane lived in some sort of community, but that's about it. In the absence of other information, I assumed a gathering of hippie dropouts. I'm afraid I haven't seen her for years, which is a point of sadness, and so had no detailed knowledge of her circumstances.

In the event I have come away deeply impressed by a very nice group of people, and reminded that simple things can be very satisfying.

Turns out that the original group all met through Shintaido, "an avant-guarde martial art with the emphasis of self-development and life expression". One of them found the property - an abandoned school with with lots of land and surrounding woods - and they moved in. It's quite a big group now; I was told there are 40 children, most of them educated there. Though it's a closely knit community, it's not communal living. They have houses or apartments created out of the school buildings.

The exception to this was the older boys (up to about 20 years or so). They had a kind of lodge in part of the old farm house. In this they had bedrooms, a communal kitchen with a long wooden table, and even a little movie theatre complete with video projector. They had done most of the construction work themselves with adult supervision and expertise as needed. The passing on of artisan skills seems to be an explicit part of the lifestyle.

I noted bucket and mop and also a vacuum cleaner, and the place was spotless. The lads were charming and polite. In case you think I stumbled into some sort of alternative universe there was much evidence of computer games with large screens everywhere.

I travelled down with my sister (Jane's mother), and my two daughters. The community said they could put us up, but I had no clear idea about the arrangements. In the event we were accommodated in the old school building in basic, but perfectly adequate rooms. The toilet was one of those old French ones, where you have a well-founded fear of putting a foot wrong. And not the kind of place you would want to read the Sunday papers in.

We arrived fairly late, and while we had a bit of food for the journey, we did not have enough for self-catering. No problem. Some boxes of pasta were produced, and this, when cooked, sprinkled with olive oil and some grated Parmesan cheese, with a bit of lettuce and pate on the side, made for a simple, but delicious meal. And, I should add, washed down with my own rough, but very ready wine.

Later we repaired to an inglenook fireplace, where we sat and chatted, drinking ash tea (more on this later) and the local firewater. I was told what this was made from, but the memory is a shade hazy.

The next day I met a few more of the people and tried to find out what people in the community did. It seems a few commute to outside day jobs, but many seem to earn their living applying artisan skills. They like traditional ways of doing things - I really have the impression that this is a bit of a national characteristic - and what I saw was impressive.


Here, for example are two end pieces, to hold up a very thick and heavy table.


Plus some other pieces - not sure what to make of the fire-breathing angel! (Well worth a click for a larger view).

They build with wood too, and use one of those sawing pits to slice along logs. You may know the kind of thing. Someone stands on top holding one end of a long saw, the other is in the pit holding the other end. They push and pull between them. Hard work, but a good alternative to a saw mill.

Jane shared the responsibilities of a small flock of sheep with two other 'shepherdesses who live at the commune; it was clear that she was well known and liked there. Her ashes were scattered in the woods on their property, just a short walk away. All the adults attended, and her friends left touching mementos at the base of a tree, flowers mostly, but a shepherd's staff, some bread in the shape of a heart, and a soft toy. I really can't imagin anything nicer or more appropriate.

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I mentioned ash tea, made from the leaves of the Ash tree. Identify it here. I haven't had this before, but we all found it delicious and refreshing. Very simple. Just gather some sprigs or small branches with ash leaves, hang with the leaves pointing downward until they are dry, then crush and use as you would tea. Probably best drunk without milk or sugar. I was told it help me live a long time. Recommended anyway.

We were also served a fermented drink made from ash leaves. Very nice indeed. I was going to post the recipe, but I find that my daughter has dissappeared to Paris with it, so that will have to wait.