Finding Heartland

by Asad Mustafa Kahlon (Pakistan)

A leap into the unknown USA

Standing at Nevada station, expecting the unexpected, I knew I was at the mercy of my host. What if I am dumped at the eleventh hour, owing to corona virus frenzy, after traveling all the way from Pakistan to volunteer at a farm in California that I have never seen before — was my soliloquy. Amidst all the misgivings, I recieve a text from my host, Anders, to wait at the location before being picked up by one of his representatives. I waited with baited breath for three long hours at the station. But it was worth the wait, as I was received by two beaming faces from two different backgrounds — a Jersey girl, Courteny and a Costa Rican volunteer, Carolina. The moment I hopped in the car, there was a hush silence inside. suddenly, an audio started playing from Don Miguel’s book “the four agreements” — considered the bible at that place. Since it was my baptism, so all I did was listened. Upon reaching the property, as the wooden fence gate of the property slowly opened and I turned my gaze to the picturesque landscape, I realized how aptly the place, nestled in the heart of Northern California, was named “Heartland” by Anna (the septuagenerian philanthropist) and her son Anders (a Swedish-American Eco-Entrepreneur). Three things that pushed me to volunteer at this pristine fairyland, where cows grazed the field and geese frolicked around the nearby Lake were — off grid living, the Fikka culture (a hallmark of Swedish lifestyle) and launch of an environmental incubator. Interestingly, all three of which, I had no experience or expertise in, hence there was this childish curiosity to delve deep and explore. The place made me feel grounded from the get go. Where back home I had servants at my disposal to cook food or do laundry — not anymore. No family members either to look after me. And on the very first day I was asked to cook a meal for everyone. Thanks to a couple of volunteers who lent a helping hand and saved the day for me. Each morning would begin under the dome with the vow to do good in the world and a briefing from Anders for all tasks to be completed. I did various chores from decorating the outpost to weed wacking, plantation, building , staining and other tasks that I would have never imagined doing before. It was not only the values but the nomenclature at the place that was fascinating for me. Terms like the Zim Zam (weekly trash cleaning), Nest (the work space), Kiva (the bonfire circle), Valkariye (the recycling shed), permaculture or the Fikka nights that were completely novel to me. Doing therapeutic exercises like the Naam Yoga and the Wim Hoff breathing sessions by lake Camp West in chilly evenings of February were also lifetime experiences to savour. Then there was this unique style of saying grace while holding hands before every meal that built a sense of community and camaraderie. Not to forget the food itself and the wholesome vegan diet that helped tame the carnivorous mamal breeding inside me for years. The place not only had a heart but a soul to it as well, in the form of its volunteers. And like every volunteer, I did my fair share of Seva to uphold the true essence of this hidden jewel to what it is known for — as the Heartland. The diverse group of people I met there from across the globe , not only became lifelong friends but also my mentors. In a span of one month, this small microcosm of its own had embraced me snug tight in its arms that detaching myself from it was now getting difficult. Saying good bye is always the hardest part; but every good thing comes to an end, so it was time to leave. As i bid farewell, I felt light — having let go of some baggage and felt exalted — having developed new wings to fly. I had let go of prejudice, greed, envy & self indulgence and had imbibed in me Don Miguel’s four guiding precepts — to be impeccable with your word, not to take anything personally or make assumptions and to always do your best.