Loki “sitting in her new world of possibilities circa 1975”

We’ve had a farm in Clarksville, Maryland for the past 34 years. Originally, we called the place “Live Oak Farm.” This was erroneous since the tree we named the farm for was not even a Live Oak rather a Box Elder Maple. There was no way in hell that we were changing the name to that. So we stayed Live Oak Farm for all those years.  Since the summer of 2008, we became “Sanctuary.”

To get a feel for the place let’s start at our beginning. We moved into the farm in 1975. We were married for one year and were lucky enough to be called when the original owner, Nellie Grooms died and left a codicil to her will stating that we had first option to buy. We had in fact bought the placed two years earlier but due to many unusual circumstances, mainly money, we never completed the deal. However, in this process I became friends with Nellie and helped her until very late in her life. When the attorney called us, we were shocked. We had 29 days in which to secure financing and get moved into the farm.

After being turned down by several finance companies, we found out that the place had been condemned on several counts. We told the sellers of this knowledge and quickly were allowed to buy it “as is”. Little did we know what that really meant? First off, the house was condemned before we moved in. Apparently, our lovely new next-door neighbors had reported us to the Howard County Sanitary Department because we were “dumping raw sewage” into the Little Patuxent River. How preposterous, I was one of the original founders and supporters of Earth Day at the University of Maryland! We would never knowingly do such a thing. As it turned out, sure enough, there was the toilet paper right where this pipe ran into the creek on our land. We were shocked and really condemned. This was a real blessing it turned out. I ran crying to Boarman’s Market and used the only phone in the area. The owner, Florentine Boarman, overheard my conversation and actually offered to lend me the money to put in a real septic system. Seems everyone on Route 108 knew we had no real septic but kept quiet.

That was the start of my “connection” with my new community of friends in Clarksville, Maryland. I became known as the “real Susie”. Mr. Boarman called everyone “Susie”. It turned out that was my real name. I’ve been Loki and the community went along with the name change and many of the other antics I did during my 35 years of living on the land. I don’t recall ever being challenged by the community on anything and we did indeed have some wild times along the way.

Our intention in choosing to live in an 1860 home on 5.5 acres on a major highway was unique. We were told and believe that this was a stagecoach depot many years ago. The spirit of the house is so friendly. Everyone, no matter their personal background, always comments that the place feels so safe and often reminds them of their grandmothers old home. We have done little to the structure of the homestead; we have used what we have.

The heart of the farm has always been the tree. Even though it wasn’t the beautiful Live Oak we thought it was; the tree is truly the heart of the magic of the land. Originally, it held a nice swing and all my kids and neighbor kids climbed it, built forts in it and latterly I put a seat in the base so I could tell stories at Halloween to my grandchildren. Then it happened, I had spread the ashes of my teacher and friend, Dawson Hayward and the tree imploded. The weekend before this happened; the tree was honored by Howard County Parks and Rec as being the largest and oldest Box Elder Maple in the county. We went to an official ceremony and had my picture taken for a magazine and possibly the phone book for Clarksville. That night when retiring, we heard a loud explosion or what seemed like a car crash. I waited, when you live on the road, you know those ominous sounds. No crash, so we went to sleep. The next morning my dear husband and soul mate came back into the farm and showed me what had really happened. The tree had literally blown itself apart. Parts of the branches were on the road, on the pigpen and across the garden area. It was a total loss. I called Parks and Rec for help but they could do nothing. The tree was so dangerous the way Mother Nature had left her that we were forced to cut it down. That tree was over 250 years old! This was not fair. It was not in the plan. However, again I was blessed. I found a new, young, group of men who would do the work for half of what the local tree removal company would charge. When getting the estimate, the young black man took off his cap and bowed his head while studying the loss and all the work that it would require. He felt the pain from both the tree and my heart. I hired him.

Instead of cutting the tree down to the ground, they left the main heart and some of the branches which lasted for several years. Then little by little the tree began to shrink. The faces in the open bark changed too. Folks came and drew the faces, photographed them and actually prayed to them while working. It was amazing to see that what looked like an old dead tree still got so much respect and honor.

Then things really started to happen. We had been doing Reiki on the land for about 10 years and having Native American Ceremony on the land at the change of seasons. After a ritual, a Shaman named JoJoPah came and walked the land for two days. She said we needed to have a ceremony for the tree to continue to honor its power and presence and to increase abundance and prosperity for the land. In the last 35 years, our little sleepy town of Clarksville had become the wealthiest, highest per capita income city in the United States! This was not us but rather how things had grown and changed in the community.

JoJoPah was persistent. We planned a ceremony called the Tingon Tree Ceremony, it is an African tree ceremony that she learned from Malidome Somme and she was coming to Clarksville to help us all. In all the years of doing ceremony on the land we had never charged for an event. This time we did charge and JoJoPah got the proceeds. We managed somehow to get 20 kindred spirits to participate. No one knew what they were doing nor why. They trusted and believed in us and the land. It was a big success. As always, the neighborhood stood by in amazement. The paddock filled with cars, folks were seen scurrying around the land gather twigs, flowers and entering sanctuary spots that we had prepared for the event. We always called these sacred places by names like the “The Lagoon”, “The Enchanted Forrest”, “The Creek”, etc. Most laugh when they actually see what it is I’m talking about but then gradually they too call them by the correct names. Then everyone is happy.

During the Tingon Ceremony many new kinds of friendship blossomed. Some of our old long time friends were truly supportive. Others laughed and said “no thank you” but you all enjoy. One of my new friends, Lynda Walton who happens to be a Master Gardner volunteered to spruce up the tree for the event. She started digging and pulling weeds and stuff that had never been attended to in all the years past. See, we always had lot of dogs and they would dig up or pee on flowers and bushes. Thus, I never bothered with that for the tree. Now that it was naked and sparse it really did need some TLC. And boy did it get it. Lynda came daily with little pots and shovels and dirt. And sweat and sore muscles and in a little while the tree was indeed happy again. I think it realized how special we thought it was again and got a new shot of energy for the event that was quickly approaching. Boy was I nervous about this whole ordeal. I cleaned parts of the field, the stream, the creek, the pond and anything else that got my attention. I did not however, bother with the house itself. IT was summer and we spend most of our time outside and only frequent the house for necessities. Just before JoJOPah was to arrive and we had put new prayer flags on the tipi, it got a hole in it! Yikes, this was not in the plan. Money is always an issue for me these days. I have not had gainful employment for almost 15 years. I save up and spend kind of foolishly some say. Well, ole Bear and I decided we could not afford to have a broken tipi for this major event. We ordered a new skin and bit the bullet of the cost. Well, the skin arrived but we were out of time and energy, so during the big event the empty poles just stood there waiting. We had hoped that someone would volunteer to help but we were all too busy with our personal projects to consider yet another task. It worked out fine. JoJoPah did not concentrate on the tipi or the Medicine Wheel. She focused on the spirituality of the land and all it has to offer and the group embraced her spirit and followed her lead. More on that later.

We have always opened our home to the public in a most generous manner. We never think that something may happen as a result of sharing what we have. Thus, nothing really seriously bad has happened to the farm or us. That is lesson of the land. Use what you have and better yet share it with like-minded souls.
This is where I want the story of Sanctuary to actually begin. The past is so important for me to recall but not really necessary for the average reader of this saga

Attractions of the Land:

The Tingon Tree: A sacred tree that has been dedicated to healing and peace and lots of abundance for all who visit and support its energy. This is an African name for the tree. Spell check does not recognize the spelling. I’m assuming it is correct because JoJoPah did it this way.

At the time of the ceremony, all participants were instructed to bring yellow cloth, pieces of yellow and orange fruits and vegetables, coins, nuts and good wishes.

Everyone did as instructed. IT was so hot that day, almost 92 degrees. We of course have no air-conditioning at the farm house. We brought bagged lunches that required no refrigeration and made ourselves at home on the land. We have a large patch of bamboo next to the newly created and renovated naturally spring feed pond. In our cleanup efforts my friend wanted to create a secret garden room but I declared we had enough rooms to take care of already and no more were necessary. The morning of the event JoJoPah naturally knew exactly where to gather the group for the morning discussion of the ritual and to answer questions and steer the direction for the group. I had not slept a wink the night before the event. I was a nervous wreck. I had been warned that the Elders would “kick my ass” during the event. They worked ahead of time and I needed peace and an acupuncture emergency treatment to get started. I looked like death warmed over as my friends arrived eager to start the adventure. Photos of the day proved this point exactly. It did get better and I found my focus and settled into my seat next to the Elder leader and guide, my dear friend JoJoPah.

So back to where I wanted to go with this part of the sage. The new space is now called “JoJoPah’s” area. It was indeed a secret room that attendees sat on the slope of a little hill, the bamboo provided shade and a gentle breeze cooled the audience. No one seems uncomfortable at all. It was a miracle, the first of many that day. So now, we have yet another place to visit on the land, The Secret Garden.

During the course of the day many miracles occurred as would be expected by the power of the ritual. We had an African ‘jembe’ that my sister, Lightwoman had loaned me for the day. We do a lot of drumming on the land. We have a drum circle that has been in existence for 104 months consecutive running. We are called the Heartbeat drummers. We have a CD called the Heartbeat Drummers. We have lots of fun and originally came together for the purpose of having music for the Medicine Wheel Ceremonies. Over time we realized that most of the drummers did not actually attend the seasonal ceremonies thus we changed our purpose. Now we drum for fun and fellowship. We do a lot of laughing and our spirits are lifted considerably at the end of the evening. The group has dwindled in size recently. We are still going forward and hope that new folks will appear according to Spirit’s perfect plan. I’m always aware of what my dear friend Dawson Hayward told me: The right people show up… it’s not about the numbers.

Sometimes I forget this and get caught up in the numbers and lose sight of the real purpose of our gatherings. Somehow, someone helps me remember what we are all about. I feel blessed to be able to do all that we do for ourselves and others. We try hard to be good role models for the community of people who come and share with us. It seems to have made us better people. We feel blessed and eager to continue sharing.

So, if you are still interested please look at some of the Places of Interest on the land known as “Sanctuary.”