I went to Bedlam Farm this afternoon, and it always touches my heart to see this place that was so important to me. Bedlam Farm is for sale, and Maria and I have reason to go there pretty often. Today we picked up some bags of books, met some very good people who were looking at the farm, checked on the barns and property. It is always a little jarring to go back, I have so many powerful memories there, they all come out in a jumble – sitting in the porch, bringing Maria popcorn in her Studio Barn, my first photographs, walking in the woods and going to pieces, lambing in the back field, plowing up the hill with Rose in storms, walking on our path in the woods. I lived a lot of life there.
For me, Bedlam Farm is a magical place, and some people see the magic and some people don't. I hope the people who buy the place will see the magic in it along with the septic and taxes. Joseph Campbell says we are either mythically driven or security conscious and I have always been mythically driven. Security conscious people don't buy farms in the country, no matter how great the view. You either hear the angels sing or you don't, and if you do, they make a lot of noise at Bedlam Farm, where I wrote seven books and took many thousands of photographs. I also fell in love there and began a meaningful life there. And ended a long marriage as well. From my first day on the farm, I knew I could never go back to my other life, never. The farm is a siren song, a whirlpool pulling you in. Whoever goes there is not going back to their former life. The farm is Mother and Father, it is an idea and an inspiration.
It will speak to you or it won't.
The world is opening up changing, and I feel the farm is reaching out for its owner, for someone who will love it and take a leap of faith with it. I hear the fences signing, and the barns groaning with joy and meaning.