Welcome to the Oppositifolius Radical Antiestablishmentarianist Eco-Feminist Hippie Commune

I have already sent this message telepathically to those invited, but as not everybody is familiar with that method of communication, they will get a faint inkling they should click here and read through. We are looking for new members. Don’t worry about how you present yourself; I have already checked the astrological calculations and know exactly who to accept and who not. It’s just a matter of getting your attention first.

We are a community based in Snakesgarden, a small town in Western New England home to numerous rattlesnakes and sasquatches. We are enthusiastic about permaculture and have approximately three thousand acres, thirty of which are in cultivation, and have built thirty-two hugelkulturs, have three willow feeders, and date back from the early seventies.

Our main crops include hay, comfrey, nettle, Japanese knotweed, Dioscorea oppositifolia (hence the name), kudzu, sourgrass, and parsnip, but we also have an extensive vegetable patch including squash, parsnip, kudzu, sourgrass, Japanese knotweed, yam, nettle, Clintonia borealis, hairy wood mint, Hablitzia, Dahlia, Allegheny-vine, Twisted-stalk, Muhlenbergia, and comfrey. Our food forest also includes plums, apples, currants, hawthorn, bramble berries, and kiwis, along with chestnuts, hickories, oaks, butternut, and salsify. Mostly we eat acorns and hickory nuts though. We also have a hundred head of sheep and thirty cows. The cows are all white and the sheep are all black.

We are entirely self sufficient in food, and especially in parsnips, acorns, and Bolboschoenus tubers—we need more people to come to our feasts! We are also self sufficient in our clothes, which are made from nettles and wool and milkweed, and in building materials, baskets, knapped stone implements, and the other necessities of life.

Our ponds were all dug by hand, which may be surprising when you look at the satellite view of our commune. They are full of wild rice, sweet-rooted Bolboschoenus, rushes and bulrushes, and a plethora of diverse, abundant, delicious and beautiful wetland flora and wild ducks and geese. We also have rewilded bison and heath hen in the lowland forests and meadows.

Our housing is a thatched longhouse whose interior is covered in weaving and tapestries, floored with rush mats. We sleep on the ground with skins and cook over an open hearth normally, though we do have a small rocket mass heater toward one end. We encourage people to meditate or work at night if they are not asleep, for the same reason we have shunned televisions and internet. We have a large collection of unique hymns that we sing for different tasks, seasons, and hours of the day, however.

We also strictly forbid photography as it scares away the fairies, moose, pumas, sasquatches and spirit beings.

We speak a dialect of Quenya on a daily basis for communication so you should have a basic knowledge of the language before coming.

Our neighbors, who live in the thatched longhouse across the way, are the Traditionalist Circle of the Supreme Knowledge of the Immeasurable Splendor of Heaven and Earth. We get along and agree on most things, but some things get to be grating. They, for instance, have the men all speak Sanskrit and the women speak Latin, even when they’re talking to each other. It leads to a lot of confusion and miscommunication. Furthermore, many years ago one of their children was non-binary and as a result they started speaking in a language no one could understand! And as they were facing such a difficult language barrier, they were forced to relent and let the poor child come over to our side to stay while they decided how to proceed. Eventually it was decided by their Circle of Elders that they could speak Latin to the men and Sanskrit to the women, or the other way around if they chose, but they chose instead to stay with us and are now a valued member of the community with a seat in the longhouse.

Our attire is as follows. We all wear white robes with berets and clogs, and our hairstyle is a bob with burdock burrs around the edges. When it gets cold we wear turtlenecks and black woolen blankets, and wrap our heads in sheepskin hats. We wear extremely large slippers for their insulative value.

Before joining our community there are some tasks you must accomplish.

Whoever wishes to join our commune must go into the hills wearing a large quantity of flowers, and with no tools of any sort. You must remain there until you have come back having captured a rattlesnake with your bare hands for us to see. The flowers must not be wilted. You can only make three attempts; if on the third time you fail, then you will be forever banished.

Then you must be baptized with Under-the-Willows-River-water, which is from a holy river which washes away all impurities of the mind.

After that you must go alone to the Threefold Mountain and stay in seclusion there for forty days and forty nights. You must drink the dew of the sedges and nibble on berries and fruits, unseen by human eyes for the time, and whatever the mountain-god speaks to you, you must tell it only to me, and no one else. I will check my astrological calculations and if everything lines up then you will be given your white robes and a seat in the longhouse.

However if you are over seventy or have a disability we will find alternatives.

Maieshe Ljin wrote:for the same reason we have shunned televisions and internet.  

Since the commune does not have internet and I assume non feminists are shot on site, your secret is safe with me.

Josh Hoffman wrote:

Maieshe Ljin wrote:for the same reason we have shunned televisions and internet.  

Since the commune does not have internet and I assume non feminists are shot on site, your secret is safe with me.

We don’t allow steel implements at all as they scare off the gandharvas and mysterious nameless beings. The trolls also go crazy around them. I think for them it’s like porcupines and plywood, or something. They would tear up the house and barn if we kept any steel; that’s what we happened when we first started and why we haven’t kept any steel on site since.

We keep bronze arrows, swords and spears in case they are needed but they’re more expensive, so we don’t use them often. We also don’t harass visitors unless they bring steel onto the site, act in an uncouth manner, or try to start a debate. Usually though, the rattlesnakes deal with any malevolent intruders. In the evenings we have confessions around dinner; if anyone swats a fly out of anger they have to confess. That is the sort of policy we have around everyday violence so it sets the tone for the rest of our interactions.

Anyway it is only on site that these things are forbidden. Anyone can go to the library and access the internet.

When is the next feast!?

Greg Martin wrote:When is the next feast!?

You can come any time and we will prepare one. You can also look for our cheese in local shops; it is very recognizable as it is sealed with genuine beeswax and imprinted with Dioscorea leaf.

That makes me remember—we keep bees too. So many things to keep track of—sasquatches, trolls, bees, porcupines.

Maieshe Ljin wrote:or try to start a debate.

That is good that your belief system is settled and the rattlesnakes co-participate to ward off any challenges. We just adopted 2 dogs from the local animal shelter but poisonous snakes would have been better guardians. We have a decent amount of copperheads here but I have never felt comfortable around them so we give each other space.

Should one have to confess to a communal sin, what type of penance would doled out?  Asking for a friend.

Robert Ray wrote:Should one have to confess to a communal sin, what type of penance would doled out?  Asking for a friend.

We have no official penance. Our confessions exist not for the purpose of punishing but forgiving and creating a safe environment for our humanity. We recognize that things get out of balance in us and out of us, and it is not our faults when they do. However, there are some who have practiced self flagellation in the past. We cannot recommend this practice, but we acknowledge that it has occurred among the more zealously minded.

Josh Hoffman wrote:
That is good that your belief system is settled and the rattlesnakes co-participate to ward off any challenges.

Actually, we think very little about social issues now that we are well established as a commune. Patriarchy, capitalism and all forms of oppression actually, don’t much bother us. We have guessed that we may be on a “don’t bother” list because when someone from the state tried to tell us that we were long overdue for property taxes and needed to answer to a court summons—firstly they couldn’t find the road that leads to the house, they stumbled through brambles half the way and then heard someone singing in the distance. Going to the noise they stumbled upon a tumble of boulders, upon whom were sitting a trio of Sasquatches and a troll, singing Bach. Trying to speak up to ask the whereabouts of our commune, the three Sasquatches and the troll stared at them, still singing Bach. Next time, it was a troupe of gandharvas singing Fair Nottamun Town. They vanished into thin air having smelt steel, leaving the word “Horse” to echo in the air, but the person thought it uncanny enough to turn back and not come in any further.

The third taxman actually stumbled his way all the way to the pasturelands where he was met with the unwavering gaze and cold “Baa” of the sheep. Stepping through the pasture towards the longhouse, he was astonished by the beautiful scenery, the view of the mountains all around, and decided to sit down and take in the view a while and nibble some berries.

Awestruck, he exclaimed the following verses:

What beauteous ponds, and what splendid a vale!
I never would think that they had such a thing
That they made and they shaped come out looking so wild!
The beavers are swimming in sedgelands of gold;
The waters of silver are rushing and splashing,
Bright fountains do grace every mead and bright vale
To silver stone ‘midst lovely rill do joyous they turn
Those waters so dear, so wondrous to behold
Which are sweet to the tongue, sweet fountains do spring
From those falls, well-shaped by the silt-flows of old
That did scrape and did scratch and did etch thy pure splendor
Into serpents of white that midst green-woods still glitter
And through pastures that peter and soft-edged do shimmer
With the flowers of spring-time, sweet gift-fruits of fall
As the black mountain-earth groweth deep and soft
And these acorns, who drop down to holiest ground
From the straight oaks which do stand in Thy beauteous hall
And do shine and do glitter with the bright dew of morning
In these verdant mountain-lands, beloved to all.

Upon good earth, upon these splendid mountain-earths,
Deep black mountain earth, beloved abundant valley earth.

At which point he decided to come down and become part of our community.  

Something more or less like the troll-and-Sasquatch-choir happened the next time, and the time after that, by the stories our non-communal neighbor tells us. But no more since.

So as a result it’s sort of like asking if you’re a supporter of the British rule of the colonies. Patriarchy and all kinds of oppression, whether social or economic, have not bothered us in a long time. Occasionally the outside world peeks in and tries to shake our peace but we know it will pass and we can go back to living life as we always do, focusing on the tasks of sustaining life. Our beliefs don’t really cross our minds on a day to day basis and so we can forget “being angry at the bad guys” quite thoroughly.

Your communes penance is much more relaxed than the last one I looked at. After a transgression one entered a long narrow hallway lined on both side with the matriarchy of grandmothers and mothers. They were armed with wooden spoons, sandals and switches. Once you confessed your transgression you would run down the hallway and were met with whatever corporal punishment  was deemed appropriate by the group. I will share your relaxed forgiveness with my friend

Robert Ray wrote:Your communes penance is much more relaxed than the last one I looked at. After a transgression one entered a long narrow hallway lined on both side with the matriarchy of grandmothers and mothers. They were armed with wooden spoons, sandals and switches. Once you confessed your transgression you would run down the hallway and were met with whatever corporal punishment  was deemed appropriate by the group. I will share your relaxed forgiveness with my friend

Oh, no frying pans though? What about urtication or purgatives?

I read once about giving gentian to children who wouldn’t behave but we don’t do that here.

We have no matriarchs, or patriarchs because we are a leaderless people. The Traditionalist Circle of the Supreme Knowledge of the Immeasurable Splendor of Heaven and Earth has both matriarchs and patriarchs in their Circle of Elders, though. They do give people burdock leaf decoction when they break the rules. We are more sophisticated with our use of herbs than that.

And the Oromandi or Qu-ese who live to the south, who live in the Dark Mountain Lands, are mysterious but we know they have diplomats assigned. We don’t know how much internal influence they have, but they are a very timid and gentle sort. They wear grass skirts, ponchos and tricorn hats.

Oy purgative? Definitely not....my understanding is that urticacion was used but that the ones giving out the penance occasionally became struck by the vigorous application of their fellow matriarchs and that particular method was stopped. Frying pans weren't allowed due the close quarters. It was and odd group and crossed off his list.

We saw a strange procession move across the land this morning. A host of dryads and naiads were seen leading it, followed by a host of earth-fairies, a troll, and three nephilim. They were thronged by an even greater number of mysterious nameless beings. Drawn by groundhogs, fairy chariots held their respective banners and lovely flags, and the music of the lute, the drum, the lyre, and the panpipe were heard everywhere. The three Nephilim were splendidly arrayed in purple and gold, with crowns of bindweed-blooms upon their heads. The troll came bearing upon their head a number of stones, which they presented to us as a gift.

The mysterious nameless beings followed no particular mode of organization; however their singing was quite lovely and enchanting as a whole.

Together they were singing such verses as follows:

Fire burns and north wind blows!
Potatoes unearthed by deer-bone hoes!
See as the light unfurls in the vale
See as the dark uncurls its grasp.
See as the burdock leaf in the mead
Doth bring peace ‘midst all the death
Of all we loved, for our great works
Were laid to ash by a thousand hands.

See as the mist doth take its place
And as it feedeth all who live;
Just as such your fields be graced
By our strange hands upon your heads
For we have seen, and we shall know
The way ahead, which ye have shown
To be alive, within our home
Which resoundeth through the river-bend.

At sunrise the mysterious nameless beings disappeared and the rest of the crowd dispersed and returned to their respective homes for the day.

I hope that the following story will give more insight into the spirit of our community.

Yesterday, while we were digging some early potatoes, some strangers walked down to our commune from the forest, covered in leaves and cleaver-burrs and brambles, obviously having failed to find the road. As they approached with a stern look, we looked at each other. They introduced themselves in stern voices as Nimrod, Nehemiah, Josiah, Ebenezer and Benjamin. Two of us walked away to gather some flowers and present them as a bouquet.

We heard a little of the conversation which followed. The unwelcome visitors immediately began to explain how they had come to an infallible conclusion regarding our rituals and their immorality. As we were feminists, and we had a yearly ceremony of offering fat to the holy mother and holy father spirits who live in the mountain, AND we had been reported (by someone who said that he knew someone else who visited the commune) to be engaged in “witchcraft”, we must be old style witches who held witches’ sabbaths and rendered baby fat to use in rituals. And where did we get the baby fat? Not from organ donors, they assured us.

It is well known that the trolls, sasquatches, rattlesnakes, lions, et cetera, only let in visitors if they have some good reason to be here. Why were these troublemakers here, I wondered?

Our fellow community members were listening as calmly as possible. Finally one of the older members of the commune said: “I hope that it comforts you to know that this you have described is not the way we do things here. We use a sacred ointment made from ground sunflower seeds mixed with gold dust, and we don’t use animal fat of any sort, let alone from human beings.”

The two of us arranged our flowers into a bouquet, tied it with some milkweed bark, and handed it in to one of the fiery visitors,  that being Nehemiah, who asked, “What is this?”
“Flowers”, we said.
“What for?”
We didn’t answer.
“Would you like to sit down and eat with us?” we asked.  
“No, you’re probably serving baby fat fried potatoes!”
“I will boil them, there’s no question”, I said. I went inside, got some bindweed greens and boiled them with potatoes, sunflower seeds, nettles, and a bolete into a simple soup, adding miso at the end, and a sprinkling of raw chopped bindweed root, with a smaller sprinkling of tansy for flavor, and we served the visitors this simple farm soup. They did not eat it, so we showed them by eating it ourselves that it was safe. They refused to eat it unless we brought hyssop for them to eat it which, so we did. Then, they had a little bit, and found that it was too delicious not to continue eating, until they were scraping at their wooden bowls with their wooden spoons and finally slurping down the last of the broth. They thanked us for the food.

We asked, “Would you like to go up to the shrine and make an offering, see how it’s done?” They consulted among themselves and said that they would come and watch us doing it, but they wouldn’t do it themselves. We explained that we never made offerings for show, they must be genuine. They didn’t see how things were here. Nothing here is ever on display, everything we do is purposeful and genuine.

Nehemiah said, “Why don’t we bring some of the ointment home and feed it to our god?”
We nodded, impressed with the idea.
But Benjamin was not: “That’s ridiculous.”

They all stared at each other a while, unsure what to do. Finally I asked, “Do you want some sunflower seed ointment to eat for yourselves?”

That seemed like it produced agreement so we showed them the grinding of the sunflower seeds and the addition of gold dust. But none of them could bring themselves to eat it. “I have no appetite”, said Benjamin. “And it’s too…too…”

“Gaudy?” suggested Nehemiah.
“No…”
They could not decide what they thought of the sacred ointment.

“Let’s go home”, Josiah suggested.
Nimrod said, “No, let’s lie over there in the grass a while, it’s so lovely… and I’m tired.”
So they did, but Ebenazer kept watch because of suspicion. Then he came over and asked for water because the day was hot and he was thirsty, so we gave him some.

Later that day they left without even a word to say, but this time they found the road back. I’d be surprised if they could find it again from the outside, though. We were relieved by this.

I just wanted to pop in and say I'm thoroughly enjoying this and look forward to each new post💜