RECIPE OF LIFE

seaweeding in Seldovia, Alaska

I am writing in the lack of words even to begin to describe Alaska. I am leaving again. This time it is IONIA where I have stayed for the last month.

More than twenty five years ago a group of young people united by a common philosophy of Macrobiotics and of a healthy life travelled across country to find their Place. Their Religion was Food - slow food, simple food, without animal products or sugar. The founder of the macrobiotic diet and philosophy was a Japanese man George Ohsawa. The Place came to be in Alaska, and the village was named Ionia. Here are no locks on the doors, the children do not go to school, no-one goes to work for money. Here everything belongs to everyone, thus here are no thieves. Here is no need for daycare or babysitters, the children are looked after by every member. There is freedom of activity, of being what you want to be, doing what you feel like doing. It is a different world, separate from the rest of the society and it seems to function by other rules - by another recipe of life.

from a letter to my Brother:
Back in Estonia I heard a voice in my mind. It said: Stay. I will give you everyThing. You don't know what is out there. look at the newspapers, the television, it is dangerous - no security, no one you know, nowhere to go...
Then there was another very little voice in my heart. it said: Go and do not worry. I listened to that voice and left.

Aron asked me today: So where do you go from here?
I said: I do not know. I am here, I am in Alaska - this is where I was going. This was my Big Impossible dream. And now I am here living it, happy to be here.

I am sleeping in Flori's tipi. She is a great girl. I have a friend.
I relate to the nature here - it is just like in Estonia. And the sea is in the same distance as it is from our country house. When the volcanoes and the mountain chain is behind the clouds, the horison looks the same too. I walk barefoot, I pick mushrooms and plants, I experiment with macrobiotic cooking, I am reading up on Marx and Engels, I am sewing my own shirt, I play the piano, I sometimes help to build the barn floor and paint the logs...I am growing. I belong. I feel I do. It would be a great place to spend the winter! And everyone is welcoming saying: "You can stay as long as you want!"
But then again I hear the voice in my heart. It says: Go.

Florence gave me a cupboard to put in my little corner. I stopped living out of the backpack. And I thought, maybe this is a sign - an invitation. But again the voice in my heart said: Go.

So here is the Road. I do not know what it shall bring. A very natural state of being.