Kundalini and the Art of Being ... 19pretty nice.
“So, what’s the name of this other community around here, then?”
the man asked, as he finished tying on the raft.
“Uhhh...the Methow Valley Collective,” I said.
He looked at another guy standing next to him, and they both
laughed.
“Why, is it some weird cult, or something?” I asked, confused by
their response.
“No, it’s not a cult—that’s us! We’re also known as the Methow
Valley Collective. This is the Methow Valley we’re in—Okanogan
is the name of our organic farm, where most of the people live, but
not everyone. You must have talked to Hanson. He actually lives in
town.”
I was dumbfounded. “You know Hanson? You guys are part of the
Methow Valley Collective? I can’t believe this!”
“What’s your name, fellah?”
“I’m Gabriel. Man, this is amazing!” I stuck out my hand. “What
a crazy coincidence, that you guys would be right here where I was
dropped off, when you were who I was looking for.”
“Yeah, no kidding...I’m Rob. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, shak-
ing my hand with a firm grip. “And this is Richard.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Richard. “Go ahead and climb in the back
with the raft, and we’ll give you a lift up to the farm.”
“Great—thanks a lot, you guys!” I said, feeling both overjoyed and
overwhelmed.
“Hey, no problem,” said Rob, smiling as he climbed into the cab
of the truck.
I sat in the back of their pickup as we drove slowly into the small
mountain town of Twisp, then turned west and continued up a long,
winding road that curved up into the hills.
I could hardly believe what was taking place. The timing was so
perfect—it was as if they had been waiting there for me to show
up. Of all the mysterious synchronicities that had occurred over the
summer and past few years, this one was really blowing me away.