April was all about the garden.
During a week-long community effort, we transformed the space—digging, weeding, raking, mulching, planting, watering, and simply admiring—from morning till evening. Each day, someone else took charge of preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was beautiful teamwork, woven through with meaningful conversations.
There was also a roof replacement project, during which I showed the neighbor's kids how to burn wood and lacquer it properly, so it would endure time.
With my little friend, Csillag, we created a rock garden—adorned with stunning succulents and perennial herbs.
The first two weeks of May were spent at the builder’s camp for the Gyüttment Festival—a truly brilliant experience.
To live and work with about 25 people, all blessed with similar values and visions, was both uplifting and deeply hopeful. We built roofs, shower elements, staircases, and even created a sign in land art style—but the highlight was undoubtedly the construction of the clay oven.
For four days, I was covered in clay from head to toe. My shoulders could barely move, yet I crafted and decorated such a beautiful oven that—oh, joy!
The rhythm, the spirit of shared work, the conversations—it all mirrored the possibility of a more idyllic world. No one rushed or stressed, because everyone approached their task with joy and sincerity.
Evenings around the campfire brought profound connections—shaping us, rooting us. We were a tribe.
We crowned the month with a three-day retreat.
We went in search of our inner and outer voices—and found ourselves. We meditated and dove into different layers of our being, if only we could look beyond the tempting broadcasts of the mind.
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