Visiting The Farm in Summertown Tennessee
Originally published on Medium.
When I began my birth doula training, one of the very first books that I was required to read was Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. I really loved Ina May’s philosophies regarding birth, so after I wrote my book review I decided to read more books written by her, including Birth Matters: A Midwife’s Manifesta, Ina May’s Guide To Breastfeeding, and one of my all-time favorite books, Spiritual Midwifery. This book sent me down somewhat of a rabbit hole as I learned more about The Farm Commune, a place in Summertown, Tennessee where a bunch of hippies settled down and accomplished a mindblowing amount of things together. One of the huge accomplishments achieved by members of the Farm were their impact on the practice of midwifery and the culture surrounding birth. The women of the Farm were birthing their babies instinctively with only the support of their partners and the Farm midwives. Not only were they capable of doing so, but the rate of c-sections and medical interventions were significantly lower than what we typically see in hospital settings. The mothers at the Farm most often felt positive about their birth experiences, sharing them with each other to boost morale and encourage expecting mothers to join them in what can be considered a spiritual rite of passage. Spiritual Midwifery features a collection of birth stories from Farm residents. They share the good, the bad, the ugly, the hilarious, and everything in between. These stories do not shy away from the idea of pleasure in birth. They are raw, real, and inspiring stories, which is why the book has sold over 540,000 copies and has been translated to other languages.
When I first met my significant other, I had talked to him about my interest in the Farm because he had mentioned an interest in communal living. We daydreamed about being able to live on The Farm, and for over a year vaguely discussed going in the future. We never really made any solid plans to do so until this fall. We were both dying for some time out of the day-to-day routine, and so we began taking the plan more seriously and decided to go for a weekend at the end of October, just before my birthday. I was excited to find a cabin in the woods that could be rented for only $60 per night. The cabin belongs to a Farm resident named Marilyn, who graciously hosted us and made us feel so welcomed. Her birth story was featured in Spiritual Midwifery. When I told her that I loved the book, she smiled at me and asked if I remembered a photo of a woman breastfeeding in front of a tipi. That woman was Marilyn. Looking at her, I was so in awe of how much beauty and wisdom such a small woman could hold. I knew that if I had longer than one night to visit with her, I could listen to her tell stories about the life she’s lived for hours. However, we had started the 9 hour drive Friday evening. It was a little after 1am when we arrived at the Farm gate, practically collapsing on the bed the moment we got to the cabin. We would have to start the drive again Sunday morning, but for now, we had finally made it, and after we rested we would have a day to experience the dream we had talked so much about.
the moon on the night we arrived at the Farm
When we woke up on Saturday morning, Marilyn had brought over a bowl of oranges and fresh cinnamon bread from the Farm Store. It was beautiful and warm fall weather, and one of her cats was comfortably hanging out on top of her roof. Before we even began the day, I had the feeling that I wanted to live there permanently. After taking some time to soak our surroundings in and enjoy our breakfast, we walked over to Marilyn’s house to get our day started.
We sat down with her at her kitchen table and took a few moments to get to know each other before taking off on a tour of the Farm, driving Marilyn’s trusty golf cart lovingly named “Hill Da.” We rode through the community taking in the scenic late-October beauty of the farm, realizing that we couldn’t have chosen a more perfect time to visit. As we passed by horse riding lessons, everyone stopped to wave and smile. It was like a movie the way that we were instantly welcomed by everyone, despite it being abundantly obvious that we were not residents. I can’t tell what gave us away: the ginormous camera strapped to my neck, clicking away every 2–3 minutes, or The Farm T shirt that I purchased and immediately put on once I realized that the weather was at least 20 degrees warmer than I had planned for.
As we made our way through the community, we made several stops to learn more about the history of The Farm Commune, which developed from The Caravan: a bunch of hippies traveling the world in buses. Although they initially frightened some people as they made their journey to The Farm, with panicked people comparing them to the Manson Family, the noble and hardworking nature of the members of the Caravan instantly earned them the trust and respect of their fellow Tennessee residents. Securing their place in Summertown, they continued to build their community to make it the best that it could be.
As we rode around on Hill Da, we read signs in front of cabins and mobile homes that made it really clear how functional this community had worked so hard to become. The Farm truly had everything that they needed, from a law office to a graveyard. Nothing went to waste. Even an abandoned fire truck was transformed into a beautiful piece of artwork and displayed near other historical hippie buses that may never see the road again, but still stand as a reminder of what it looks like when a group of people come together to materialize their dreams.
People from all over the world had come to this same place to learn about sustainability in their eco-village training center, to birth their babies, and to do exactly what my partner and I came to do: to visualize what the reality of intentional communal living could be like, and that it can be done! Even in such a small time frame, my passion behind the dream felt rejuvenated. While I curate my perfect Pinterest board here in Indiana, piecing together my dream life on my screen, this intentional community in the middle of the woods in Tennessee thrives.
As the daytime slowly transitioned into evening, we took some time to adventure on our own. We walked to the swimming hole, and although it was empty for the fall season, I could imagine my children running around with their peers, safe to explore the world around them and get dirty. We hiked to the birthing cabin, only briefly passing by so as not to disturb the family that was inside. As new life was brought into the world, we continued down the path and made our way to the graveyard. As we saw a group gathered around a newer gravesite, I instantly felt insecure about the camera around my neck. It felt intrusive to be present at that moment as a “tourist,” so we decided to visit again in the morning.
We made our way back to the cabin and took some time to rest. Marilyn had invited us over to dinner at her place that evening, where we would meet a resident named Dell who was closer to our age, as many Farm residents are the elders who worked so hard to create this serene and spiritual safe haven. Dell lives in a tiny house on Marilyn’s property, helping her with things like lawn care. I felt very inspired by Dell, as she served as an example of the things that are possible.
At dinner, my partner and I awkwardly sat next to each other. We had messed up the symmetry of the dining table, which made the both of us laugh as we realized that our typical “finding a YouTube video to watch while eating” routine left us a little clueless when it came to table etiquette. For the first time in probably a long time, we sat down at the table and were intentional about eating the meal rather than distracted by screens or eating on the go. It did feel a little awkward because it felt new, but taking that time to really enjoy the conversation and the company reminded me that mealtimes are sacred in their own way. You express love to your family when you cook for them, eat with them, and take those moments to really enjoy the time that you have with one another.
While I was nervous about having to say “no thank you” to any specific foods, horrified by the idea of sounding rude or disrespectful to our host who had taken the time to prepare us dinner, I ended up being able to enjoy the food as well as no meat was served. Instead, Marilyn served “soysage,” a plant based sausage sold at the Farm Store. It was incredible, as was the sliced BBQ seitan that I had purchased earlier in the day.
When we toured the Farm, we had stopped at the community center. Inside, people were setting up for a Halloween party that would be taking place that night. Members of the community had donated baked goods, and everything was being sold for $2 to fundraise for the Farm School. Marilyn had invited us to go with her to the party that night, so after dinner, we took off on Hill Da and made it just in time to watch the costume contest. A child dressed up as a mushroom ran past me giggling. It was everything that I had dreamed living at The Farm would be like.
The following day, we woke up early and prepared to make the long drive back to Indiana. We stopped to say goodbye to Marilyn and thank her, catching her just before she left for Sunday morning meditation. We went back to the graveyard and looked at all of the headstones: some old and some more recent, people who lived long lives and people who died young, and then, the biggest headstone of them all, which belonged to Stephen Gaskin. He once served as the commune’s “spiritual leader” before the time period that residents refer to as The Changeover. Stephen gained fame as a counterculture icon for his role in creating and developing the Farm. He spent his life married to Ina May Gaskin, who was famous in her own right, known globally for her impact on midwifery. After all, Ina May’s outlook on birth is what led me to discovering the Farm. I thought of Stephen and Ina May and how proud they must be that their dream was realized, and how big of an impact it had on the world. Stephen’s headstone sums it up best: “what a long strange trip it’s been.”
As we drove through the Farm gates one more time, I felt a small amount of sadness, but I felt in my heart that I would be back, even if for only a longer visit.
One thing that I noticed during my stay is that the elders are very hopeful for younger generations to live at the Farm and continue to care for the land, allowing it to live on well past their human existences. They worked so hard to realize this dream, and it was and is such a good thing that it would be a shame for it not to flourish. Something else that I notice back here in Indiana is this: the general consensus is that our way of living sucks. We are disconnected, we are unfulfilled, we are distracted. I see my peers lightheartedly joking about starting a commune, but it is such an overwhelming task that it ends up just being fantasy. At the Farm, that road map has already been paved. It has been established, and although it is no longer considered a “commune,” their way of living aligns with what many of us crave the most: connection.
In just one day of staying at the Farm, I felt spiritually revitalized. You can say what you want about hippies, but they had the right idea. If you are considering visiting, go. Don’t talk about it, don’t dream about it, just make it happen — even if for only a day.
