* * *
After a celebration dinner, Goji invites me to his tiny shack for a man-to-man talk. “Come for tea after the sun sets,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
As soon as the last pot is rinsed and hung up on a hook to dry, I bolt from the community dining area and sit on a big rock near the garden. I’ve never been inside Goji’s house. It’s off limits to the Youngers and rare that even one of the Olders is invited inside. I wait for the exact moment the sun disappears behind the surrounding mountains to walk toward Goji’s private home and knock on the wood frame.
His voice answers from inside. “A door is only closed to those who see it that way.”
I push aside the wool blanket hanging over the opening and stand just inside the doorway of his one-room house. It’s even smaller than it looks from the outside. A small fire flickers in a little woodstove at the center of the room with a pipe leading through the roof. Stacks of books line the wall next to a messy table covered with papers and notebooks. Goji’s cat, Ziggy, purrs at the foot of a mattress piled with blankets.
“Come here, little brother,” Goji says. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed, naked as usual, same as me. His black hair, just a few inches longer than his beard, is pulled into a ponytail that falls down his thin back. A white headband covers his forehead.
I creep closer, not sure where to stand. I’m not afraid of him. Goji has never been anything but kind to me. But there’s something about him that makes you feel reverent, like I imagine people who were around those guys Gandhi and Jesus we’ve studied about. He’s fed me, taught me The Peaceful Way, clothed me—when we wear clothes—and created this amazing place. I know he loves me.
Goji motions toward a pillow across from him, eyes still closed. “Sit.”
I sit.
He extends both his hands in front of him, palms facing me. I press my hands against his. He smiles and opens his eyes. “Welcome.”
“Thank you.”
He drops his hands into his lap and I do the same.
“I understand why you asked about your birth today.”
I feel my face grow warm.
“It’s okay, Clover Blue. I’ve been expecting this day.”
“I . . . I just wondered . . .” I stammer before starting again. “I’m curious. . . .”
“Go ahead.”
I stare at the yin-yang pendant hanging from a thin leather strap around his tanned neck “Who are my parents?”
Goji retrieves a small book from the rickety table next to him and opens it to a bookmarked page. On the cover, a drawing of a turbaned head floats below the words The Prophet. Goji clears his throat and begins to read. “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you they belong not to you.”
Goji closes the book and sets it on the floor. He reaches for my hands again and this time holds them tightly in his. “We are all family here. The sister-mothers are your mothers. Whether or not you came from them, you come through them. All of them.”
“Are you saying none of them are my real mother?”
“I’m saying they are all your mothers.”
Goji’s taught me that we’re all pulled to our destiny and mine was to be part of the Saffron Freedom Community. But I want to know specifically which of the mothers I came out of. I press him for more.
“Yes, but which one actually gave birth to me?”
Goji’s face looks pained and a little twisted, like when the sun gets in your eyes on a bright day. “You are the son of life’s longing. You understand this, Clover Blue?”
“I know how lucky I am to be part of this family. I just want more details about . . .”
Goji takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Your birth family failed to watch over you but it wasn’t their fault. You were seeking something beyond them. Had it not happened that day it would have happened on another day. The soul cannot be stopped from searching for what it desires.”
“Failed to watch over me? What do you mean? Where? What happened?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter where you came from, Clover Blue. What matters is only here and now. God—the god in you—was seeking home and it is right here. Surely by now you understand that Love is the greatest attraction.”
“But it matters to me. Why can’t you—?”
“Society has their own set of rules, ones that aren’t necessarily in alignment with the rules of nature. We took you in because it was destiny, ours and yours.”
“So you adopted me?”
Goji sighs again, this time not as slowly. “It wasn’t a legal adoption. It was a love adoption.” He leans in, his dark eyes staring into mine. “If anyone outside of the family finds out, we’ll all be separated. You and the other three children would be taken from us, probably put in foster care. Your older brothers and sisters could go to jail.”
“And you . . . ?”
“Yes. And me.”
My thoughts immediately go to Harmony. The thought of never seeing her again turns my stomach inside out. I suddenly feel cold. My body begins to shiver. Goji pulls a blanket from the chair behind him and drapes it over my shoulders.
“Clover Blue, you were drawn to this family by our loving energy, as we were to you.” He moves his hands to my face and holds it tenderly. Tears spill out of his dark eyes. “Your sister and brother were meant to be there at that moment, just as you are meant to be right here, right now, in this moment with me.”
“Which sister? Which brother?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Will I ever get to know where I came from?”
He moves his hands to my shoulders. “When you’re a little older we’ll talk more about this.”
“How much older?”
“When you’re twelve. We’ll talk more about it then.”
That’s almost two whole years away. I open my mouth to protest but he puts a finger to my lips.
“When you’re twelve.”
* * *
Everyone else is asleep. I lie awake in my bed thinking about what Goji said. His answers are like riddles. Maybe my real parents were drug addicts. Maybe they were mean people who hit their children. I should be thankful for my loving family here. Goji teaches us that gratitude is at the center of every experience, good and bad. He’s right. He’s always right.
2
August 12, 1976
Nobody knows my real birthday. Little by little I’ve learned bits and pieces about the day I arrived. I don’t remember anything because, one, I was asleep and because, two, who remembers anything from their third year of life? All I know is that when Goji asked how old I was that first day I’d shyly held up three fingers. He declared August twelfth as my re-birth date.
Normally birthdays are like any other day because we’re supposed to celebrate each day as a new birth. But because I’m turning twelve on the twelfth of the month, we’re having a party. Of course this is also the day Goji has promised to tell me more about my past. He hasn’t mentioned it since the night Aura was born, but he’s taught us that our word is a measure of how evolved we are, so I’m pretty sure he’ll keep his. We’ll probably chat after the party.
Some of the Olders have decorated the army-green shade that hangs over our dining area with wildflowers and vines. When I walk up to the long wooden table, Willow kisses me and plants a wreath on my head made of clover blossoms. Her wet eyes have tiny lines just starting to grow out of the corners. “This is your day, Clover Blue. I’m so happy for you. For all of us.”
Sirona made lasagna with tomato sauce and home-made goat cheese, my favorite meal. She sets the steaming dish in the middle of the table using fuzzy winter mittens for pot holders. Sirona usually wears her long red hair loose but she’s braided it along the sides and together in the back, all fancy like a druid queen or something. Goji strides up wearing gauzy pants with a wide sash, but n
o shirt. He invites me to take his chair at the head of the table and he sits in my usual place. It feels weird, sitting where I face everyone.
Harmony is the last to arrive for my party. Her hair is a mess, like she just crawled out of bed, same as it looked during this morning’s meditation. When she sees me she does a fake bow before pulling out a chair next to Goji. “Namaste, Master Blue,” she says, giggling.
Doobie sits to my right. He jabs me in the shoulder and grins. “Here, little brother. I rolled you your first joint.”
I glance at Goji, who nods his okay, holding up a single finger. “One puff.”
I run the joint under my nose and sniff, like I’ve seen the Olders do, then tuck it behind my ear. “Thanks, Doob. I think I’ll save it for later.”
He pats me on the back. “That’s cool, buddy.”
We all gorge ourselves on pasta before moving to sit on the wooden stumps placed haphazardly around the bonfire pit in the center of the compound. It’s the middle of the day in August and nearly 100 degrees, and the pit hasn’t been in use for a while. Wave picks up his beat-up guitar and starts fiddling with a few chords. He reminds me a little of the cover on our John Denver eight-track, with his curved blond bangs and wire-rimmed glasses.
Wave tunes a few strings, then winks. “I learned to play one of your favorite songs.” He says it in a weird gravelly voice that makes everyone laugh. He closes his eyes and strums crazy hard, doing his best imitation of Richie Havens. “Freedom-uh, freedom-uh . . .” over and over, louder and louder. The louder Wave sings, the higher his voice goes until he’s practically shrieking.
Coyote claps his hands over his ears and turns his back to the music. “No, no, no, man, please stop.” Everyone starts laughing.
Wave grins and goes off on an instrumental bit. Some of the others start humming and dancing playfully around me. I like the attention but it also makes me feel shy. Harmony keeps trying to get me to dance. I’m surprised but relieved when Wave suddenly quits playing. He points with the neck of his guitar to where a blue Volkswagen bug parks just inside the fence at the end of our long drive. “Are we expecting company?”
We all watch as the driver’s door pops open and a barefoot woman in cutoffs climbs out. Apparently only one door works because the other person has to slide over and get out on the same side. From where I’m sitting I can see the passenger’s blond hair, red blouse, and white pedal-pushers. Definitely not one of us. For one, she’s fully dressed, and for two, she looks clean as a whistle in the middle of a dirt oasis.
Doobie stands and shields his eyes with one hand. A smile stretches across his face. He lets out a whoop and races toward the women. When he reaches the car, he hugs the driver so hard her feet lift off the ground. He twirls her around, then sets her down and yells toward us. “Hey, everybody, look who’s here!”
My face breaks into a grin when I recognize Harmony’s mom walking toward us. I turn to see Harmony’s eyes go from wider than I’ve ever seen to narrowed, furious slits. Gaia and Harmony moved here when I was five. At first Gaia seemed to really dig all of us, but then she started going to Grateful Dead concerts, leaving Harmony behind for weeks at a time while she followed the band wherever they played. Three years ago Gaia left for Seattle to see a concert. Months passed before we eventually realized she probably wasn’t coming back. We haven’t seen her since.
Everyone waits for Goji’s reaction as Gaia and her passenger approach with Doobie in tow. Willow and Wave lean into each other, whispering quietly. Coyote nervously bounces two-year-old Aura on his knee. Jade moves to stand next to Sirona, locking arms as if getting ready to play a game of red rover.
Before anyone has a chance to say anything, Gaia takes the blond girl’s hand and pulls her close. “Hey, sisters and brothers. I know it’s been a long time and you’re all probably ticked about that. But I brought a friend who needs a safe pad while she gets her shit together.”
Nobody moves. The girl drops her chin to her chest and stares at the ground.
Gaia drapes an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Her stepfather beats her.”
The girl’s eyes fly open. She looks at Gaia the same way I look at Harmony when she blurts out something that was supposed to be a secret.
Gaia scans the fire-pit circle like she suddenly remembered something. She catches sight of the tail end of Harmony, who’s now booking it in the opposite direction. I know I should chase after my sister, but I’m too excited about seeing Gaia.
Gaia hands off the confused-looking blond girl to Doobie. “Dammit!” Gaia says, and chases after Harmony, who’s already reached the tree line. We all know she’ll never catch Harmony if she doesn’t want to be caught.
Doobie stands with his empty arm still outstretched, glancing back and forth between us and the blond girl. She jerks her arm away from Doobie, looking like she’s about to cry. She turns in the direction where Gaia was headed, but Gaia has disappeared into the woods. Her chin starts to quiver.
Goji watches, expressionless, as a tear runs down the girl’s flushed cheek. “How old are you, little sister?”
She swallows before answering. “Eighteen?”
Goji nods at Jade and Sirona, who walk the girl away from the main group. The three of them stand together for a few minutes, my sister-mothers patting the newcomer’s back as they gently question her. Gaia’s friend starts full-out bawling. Jade runs back to Goji and whispers something in his ear. He stands and smiles at me.
“Happy birthday, Clover Blue.” He hands me a gift wrapped in plain paper and tied with string. I can tell from the feel it’s a book. He lays a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for shining your beautiful light on our path. I love you, little brother. I’m sorry to leave the party early but I need to deal with this.”
Goji’s always talking about not getting attached to expectations. I do my best to hide my disappointment. “It’s okay, Goji. I’ll save you some cake.”
He smiles and bows before joining Sirona and the other girl in the distance.
“Maybe we can talk later?” I call after him.
He doesn’t answer. The three of them slowly walk toward Goji’s shack at the edge of the community. When they reach his front door, Sirona peels off to rejoin the rest of us.
Doobie glances toward the tree line. He and Gaia used to be together before she split a few years ago. “Uh, I think I’ll go make sure Gaia and Harmony are cool.” He trots off to where Gaia followed Harmony into the woods.
Everyone is suddenly quiet. Willow gently nudges Wave. “Why don’t you play your song again?”
Coyote winces. “Please don’t.” He glances at Wave. “No offense, brother.”
Wave grins. “None taken.”
Jade squats down and grabs Moon’s and Aura’s hands. “Who’s ready for ice cream?”
The children jump up and down, nearly pulling Jade over. “Me! Me!”
Coyote drapes his big arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “C’mon, birthday boy. Let’s go have some dessert.”
Our lively gathering has turned quiet. People seem more nervous than excited. I keep glancing toward Goji’s shack. I wonder if the crying girl will be allowed to stay. We haven’t added any new members since Coyote, Sirona and Gaia showed up over the summer of 1969. But then Gaia took off again four years later, leaving Harmony behind.
The homemade ice cream melts almost faster than we can get it to our mouths. We clean the dishes over two metal tubs of water, one for washing and one for rinsing. I should be happy, but I’m a little bummed. Although I’m glad Gaia is back, she kind of ruined the party. To top it off, the one person I most want to celebrate with has run away. Harmony and I have been like brother and sister since the day she and Gaia arrived. And ever since Gaia left, we’ve grown even closer.
If Goji does let the girl stay, he’ll tell us the new name he’s given her. That’ll mean he’s opened a door for her to join Saffron Freedom Community. Goji is the one who gave each of the Youngers our new names. The Olders
aren’t supposed to talk about the day I arrived at SFC, but Doobie let it slip that I was sound asleep, clutching a tiny white flower when Goji took me into his arms. “He quietly chanted until you woke up. As soon as he saw the color of your eyes he said, ‘Hey, Blue. Hey, Clover Blue,’ and it stuck. He told us all that you chose us and it was meant to be.” When I pressed Doobie for more details he clammed up.
* * *
Goji returns to the dining area with the new girl just as we finish drying the dishes. We all wait for him to speak. He lays a hand on the young girl’s head and looks at us. “Everyone, this is Rain.”
The girl stares at her tennis shoes. Other than a smeared dirt handprint on the front of her white pants, she looks like a townie; clean like she just climbed out of a bathtub. She’s so beautiful I can’t stop staring.
Goji puts a finger under the girl’s chin and lifts her face. With his other hand he sweeps the curtain of white-blond hair out of the way and looks directly into her bright eyes. I can tell by the blotches on her light skin that she’s been crying. I can also see that she’s already under Goji’s spell. That’s just the way it is with him.
“Welcome,” he says to her.
We all chime in, “Welcome, Rain!”
She’s surprised by our communal greeting and starts crying again. Everyone lines up to give her a hug. Even though I just went through a growth spurt, Rain has to bend down a little when it’s my turn. Her cheeks are stained with tears. She smells like soap and something else familiar that I can’t put my finger on, but I’ve smelled it before, I’m sure of that. Maybe at the library or the food co-op.
“Hi. I’m Clover Blue.”
Her mouth turns into a pout. “I’m sorry I interrupted your party.”
“It’s okay.”
She gives me a gentle squeeze before moving on to the other Youngers. When she gets to little Aura, she bursts into tears again.
For the rest of the day, the sister-mothers fawn over Rain. They try to distract her by showing her around the land, the lean-to kitchen area and the outdoor shower. They take her to see our goats, Inga and Greta; the chickens; and our huge vegetable garden. The brothers keep their distance but they’re all watching, including Goji. Especially Goji.
Clover Blue Page 2
