Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness: words that promise the
potential of personal agency and bliss. It’s human nature to search for the
fulfillment of such a promise, yet individuals chase after it in a multitude of
ways. Author Margaret Grundstein visits us today to talk about her own search
for happiness, chronicled in recently-released Naked in the Woods.
Grundstein’s memoir follows her journey from college student to
utopian resident and beyond, capturing the reader’s heart along the way with
the raw emotion and frank contemplation so characteristic of her writing. So,
did Grundstein ever find that contentment? Are happy endings possible in the
chaos that is life? I think we’ll let her post speak for her …
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“Who comes with me wherever I
go?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on the floor, my right hand tucked in my lap,
my left discreetly tapping two little boots that I have cut from black
construction paper to the inside of my wrist. It is raining outside. In front
of me, ten toddlers sit nestled against the comforting chests of their
parents. I wait a beat. After all,
this is Los Angeles and timing is everything. They know what’s coming. We do this every week.
“Mr. Hand!” they shout.
I pause, and up he pops, my
thumb and fingers poised at the end of my arm.
“Those are beautiful new boots,
Mr. Hand,” I say.
He lowers his head at my wrist, striking a modest angle.
“Are you
feeling shy?”
“Yes,” he
says, nodding slowly.
I take in the trusting faces
that are my audience, each one a delicious dumpling. Their lips are parted as they watch with clear eyes, not
caring if my voice and Mr. Hand’s mouth are out of synch.
Gradually Mr. Hand lifts his
head, feeling safe among familiar faces, and with my help shares his excitement
over his new rainwear. Then he
moves on to his real job, picking the child whose name will open our ritual
welcoming song.
This is my utopia. Walk through the gate to the preschool I founded in Venice,
California, and the world drops away. Friendly is the operative word and love
is my currency. I need this.
Forty years ago I sought another
kind of utopia. Back in 1969, I was part of a group of radicals at Yale trying
to create a world where we could live in innocence. It had seemed possible. San Francisco celebrated the summer of love, Martin Luther
King taught us the power of nonviolence, and Woodstock was iconic before Max
Yeager’s fields had even dried. Then armored tanks rolled across the campus.
We had hoped for peace, ignoring the consequences
of our growing militancy as students occupied campus buildings and organized
strikes, demanding an end to the war in Vietnam and racism at home. Nationally,
the civil rights movement shifted with the arrival of thirty Black Panthers in
paramilitary berets and leather jackets at the California State Assembly,
flaunting rifles and shotguns to protest arms-control
legislation. The country, watching
on television, shuddered and looked to the locks on their doors and
windows. Cities burned,
assassins murdered Malcolm X and MLK, and the National Guard, dressed like
invading aliens in gas masks and goggles, killed four students at Kent State
and injured nine. This was revolution.
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Swaying together, singing “we shall overcome” was
no longer enough. The tanks lumbering through my neighborhood, clanking down my
street, brought home the futility of confrontational tactics. We needed a new plan, one that was
plausible and released us from the politics of mutual hate. If we couldn’t change the world
we would change ourselves, building communities, where, as the Beatles told us,
“all we need is love.” In Vermont,
New Mexico, Virginia, and Oregon--any place where land was available and people
sparse--students dropped out, looking for a more peaceful solution. The back-to-the-land movement showed us
a way we could love ourselves, each other, and the dirt that fed us.
We wanted to be stardust. We wanted to be golden. Naked in the Woods is the story of that quest, told
through my experience. But like
any utopia, even the one I presently enjoy, we cannot, as Joni Mitchell sang in
her iconic song Woodstock, escape the devil's bargain. Returning back to the garden may be impossible;
trying is not, because, as she reminds us … life is for learning.
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Margaret Grundstein,
in addition to directing the preschool in Venice, California, practices
photography and owns a private practice of psychotherapy. She has a B.A. from
Goddard College, a Masters in Urban Planning from Yale University, and a
Masters in Family Therapy from Loyola Marymount. Naked in the Woods is her first book.
Included photos
courtesy of Margaret Grundstein.