Calliope Center

On Wednesday, November 16th, at 11pm, Rick LaMartina left his body for good. You'll see his photo on the "Staff" page of this website, as we had begun a partnership facilitating the Wheel of Initiation and had several other joint projects in the works. Rick's career was photography, and if you peruse his work here (or simply look at the photos on this site), you'll see that he had a real talent for seeing the essence of the natural world.

Over the past few years, perhaps guided by a subconscious understanding that his time was limited, Rick turned his skilled eye on the people in his community, not with his camera; with his heart. His long walks in the woods, kneeling to take in the curious shape of a clump of mushrooms, or stroking the bark of the old elm on the hill didn't stop, but more and more, he added time into his day for the human side of nature. A member of an intentional community for fifteen years, he began attending the meetings of a new community's formation group, offering (only when asked) his insights on what makes communities succeed. He began reserving time each afternoon to visit someone he'd like to get to know better, offering reflections to them about their best qualities. He stopped by his wife's workplace to say hello more often. And he even invited people on his nature walks. Sometimes.

These seem like small gestures. And that's the point. Rick changed things. Those walks in the woods spawned a series of philosophical musings, shared with dozens of acquaintances, which in turn spawned movements in the region toward conservation efforts. Sitting with the forming community helped them understand that the search for the ideal property is far less important to a group's success than heart connections and time spent having fun together. The spontaneous visits to his wife sparked her already generous heart, and all who saw her benefited from her radiant smile, her supportive gestures, her confidence in love.

And dozens of people who might otherwise have continued languishing in the "I'm not good enough" space, the "people don't understand me" space, the "why me" space, or the "whatever" space were told gently but firmly that they must take their place in the world. And they are doing it, because they know he spoke the truth when he said, "You are important. You are unique. You have a responsibility to share your gifts. The world needs you."

One of his skills was asking questions. From Parker Palmer, he learned to ask questions that lead a person to find the desires of the soul. He'd have no agenda other than to help the friend discover his own answers, her own soul needs. No leading questions, no assuming he knew the "right" answer, no assumptions. But also no dodging the bullet, no stone left unturned.

Another skill was humor. His teasing is famous around here, and meeting his brothers and sisters who came to usher him out of this world, I see that the LaMartinas are all blessed with this gift. His teasing exposed us without hurting us. He reminded us that we can't take things too seriously, because it's fun, joy, and laughter that makes life worth living, even if it's serious business.

It didn't take moving mountains to make a monumental difference in the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. It took decisions, moment by moment. He made the choice to train his mind through meditation, so he could use it for his soul's purposes, rather than his ego's. He made the choice to take that daily walk, in the rain or snow or sunshine, because being in the natural world grounded him and connected his mind with his soul. He chose to make his relationships his priority, scheduling time into his day for face-to-face communication.

Mostly, he chose to challenge his own assumptions.

"I'm not a dancing kind of person."

"Ritual makes me uncomfortable."

"I need a lot of alone time."

"I need to know more before I share any wisdom with others."

He came to a different persective on each of these beliefs over the last few years. He danced into people's hearts, found meaning in ritual, became an extraverted introvert, and offered people the wisdom of their own hearts.

This is something we can all do. It takes some effort. It takes attention to the question, "Am I living my purpose right now?" It takes a willingness to feel hurt and embarrassment. It takes a sense of humor about the whole constucted universe. But these are within our reach.

Rick's vision wasn't clouded by the fog of the ego. He was clear. He was "on purpose." And he took the chance to find the authentic heart of whomever was willing to meet him in that space. I can think of no better legacy.

Rick's vision will continue, here at the Calliope Center, where people are invited to lovingly seek wholeness. While he won't be here in body, his spirit is in the space -- in the palo santo wood we use for ritual; in the music we dance to; in the photos of the region that line the walls (and the visions we see through the windows); and on the meditation cushions. The spirit of seeing in a new way is what we offer here. Rick has graduated.