Lightweaver stays active around the property, greeting guests and making himself available to talk orbs, if they’re interested. He dresses in loose, simple clothing and walks in bare feet as he tends the grounds, on which he’s created various shared spaces of ambiguous spiritual significance. In fact, Lightweaver welcomes guests to bring their own interpretations to his creations: for example, a stone circle in the center of the property could be a Native American medicine wheel or a Celtic stone circle. Nearby is a garden of wildflowers with 12 benches that surround a crystal obelisk. Some use it as a place to meditate; some use it as a place of ritual. I use it as a place to try to count an uncountable number of butterflies.
Lightweaver’s home serves as the Lodge, where guests have access to two indoor bathrooms (although men are encouraged to pee outside and women are reminded, “If it’s yellow, let it mellow”). The kitchen has a shared fridge, stove, and pantry. Wraparound porches provide more hammocks, tables, and outdoor sofas than there are guests to fill them. In the evening, it’s easy to feel alone or in good company, depending upon where you sit. But don’t be mistaken, this isn’t a hostel, and people aren’t here to party. The sanctuary forbids alcohol and drugs in the shelters and requests quiet after sundown. Overheard at Mountain Light: “Is that lute music too loud for you?”