The nature of the Open Houses have changed each year, they are a mirror of our lives, and of some of = the many lives that revolve around books, animals, creativity and connection. At first, there was the sense that my readers came to the Open Houses to meet me, and then Maria.

But things have changed since then, now the visitors come for many reasons, I am just one of them, and only sometimes.

They come to see Maria, they come to see Red, they come to see Simon.

They come to see one another.

For me, the Open Houses are an affair of the heart, the threads of connections that deepen ever year in many ways. This weekend was the first major test of my refurbished pre-owned heart, I was warned by many people to be wary, be careful, drink water, rest often. I hardly ever stopped, I was on my feet for the better part of three days, more than 1,000 people came through the farm, I did a dozen herding demos with Red, as many donkey tours, signed at least 100 books, shook too many hands to count, was hugged nearly as much as Simon. At the end, I was exhausted, my legs and feet ached, but I got through it, my heart throbbed to the end but was strong. I did not feel sick or get sick.

This time, about 30 members of the Creative Group At Bedlam Farm came, and they were a triumph of the heart for me. For nearly 30 years, since writing for Wired Magazine, I have been enthralled at the idea of the digital village, a new kind of community that brings people from distant places together in new and powerful ways. The idea has eluded me and so many others, it has been consistently undone by unchecked and unfiltered hostility, the Internet invasion of corporate and retail marketers and banks,  the evolution of Facebook pages into grieving and soothing machines, by the enraged polarization of American life into the warring camps of the left and the right.

A couple of years ago, I began a creative sharing group. It was called the Open Group At Bedlam Farm.The idea was to maintain a few simple guidelines that banned hostility, created a safe place for creatives to go and share their writing, photography, painting, weaving, sketching, pottery. We even called the group the “Ministry Of Encouragement.”

I will be honest and say the creation of the group was difficult, there were many times I felt it to be a mistake, a hopeless and naive idea. People in any numbers fight, get political, find things to seethe and resent. And I messed up again and again. I accepted more than 700 people, confusing numbers with success. Few of them understand the point of the group or cared to learn much about it. Many people were outraged at the very idea that there would be any rules at all.  There were angry cliques, middle-school style politicking. I was angry and frustrated.

One women said she would never take orders or accept guidelines from a man. Others wanted to turn the site into a cute animal forum, or an animal grieving community. Some were jealous of others. Some were looking for sympathy and soothing, a staple of Facebook and other social media sites. Some insisted on being hostile, another great and open vein in the social media world. There were scores of lurkers, people who never contributed but loved to argue about the rules. People announced it when they were depressed, lost their cat, or when Uncle Harry was going into the hospital for a hernia.

In the hostility-free zone, there were many battles, much anger, some directed at me, some coming from me. I knew it would be hard, but not this hard. In the mist of the confusion, there was great work consistently emerging – strong writing, wonderful photography, paintings, sketches, knitting and fiberworks, new and exciting blogs full of ideas and energy. Patience is not my strong suit, but I thought the idea was worth waiting for, and I did. And it is.

One by one, the angry and aggrieved went away, one way or another, storming out or chased. I was determined to root out anger and hostility – the enemy of free speech online – whenever it popped up, and it often popped up. There are still differences, but they are few,  we talk them out, work them out. The lurkers offered their good works or left. The site grew stronger – and smaller. We changed the name to the Creative Group At Bedlam Farm. We opened the creative works to public view.  People began to understand the idea, to work for it.  People began to make connections with one another, the outlines of a true community began to emerge.

At the Open Houses this year, members of the group came from all over the country to meet one another, to laugh with each other, to test the new boundaries of the digital village. So many poignant things to see and feel. Online friendships morphed into real ones, physical and material ones, right before our eyes. The digital village reached out again and again to one another in the most creative and powerful ways.  There was much hugging, love, connection and laughter. People shared life and death, triumph and disappointment with one another.

The idea of the digital community, buried under corporate greed and human cruelty, lived and was real, it is alive, born out of the need for creative people to do their work in safety and to find community and connection in a fragmented world. The site has become strong and settled – and sometimes brilliantly creative – there is much magic,  little anger, a great and continuous outpouring of creativity in an environment that is both safe and encouraging. I love seeing them all gather at Bedlam Farm, it is the perfect place for them to meet.

The members of the group are a small fraction of the people coming to Bedlam Farm – 30 out of 1,000 plus – but somehow they were the soul of the place this weekend, they speak to the heart of the enterprise, my lifelong passion – and Maria’s – for the encouragement of creativity in a safe and supportive place. This is a dream come true. On the group I see creativity blossom and encouragement thrive.  Every day there is amazing and beautiful work. Every day, the creative spark burns brightly.

It was what I always wanted but never had, so it is what I am selfishly determined to try to encourage in others. I cannot tell you how many times this dream has failed for me, broken my heart,  how often I have witnessed the failure of others. It is not failing now. I guess it happens when the universe is ready.

In this long quest, I have a partner, I been joined by Maria, who has wanted and dreamed much the same dreams, who cares about the same things. A soul mate. It seems together we are strong, we work, we revel in seeing the dream of the safe and creative community come to life.

Our dream for the Internet is real, it still lives.  Day by day, the people in the Creative Group – they are scattered all over the country –  come to know one another, care for one another, root for one another, laugh together, inspire one another,  help each another. In our angry, disconnected and fragmented world, nothing less than a miracle.

I felt this great shift in the group and at the Open House this weekend. At first, people came to see me, my farm, the animals in my books. Now, people come to see other things as well – most especially one another. In so many ways, I am apart from that, outside of it, I am looking in from the outside of a world I helped create. There was so much happening beyond me.

And that is the most beautiful thing about creation, just as it is the most important thing about raising a child – the point is not how it all functions with you, but how it functions without you. The best leaders are those who make themselves irrelevant,  and as soon as  possible. The ones who know when to back up and watch. That is when creativity thrives. This is why the group will live far beyond me, because it has created so many connections of the heart. They are the ones that last.

Wherever they exist, people thrive.

The Open House this weekend was all about heart, mine for sure, and everybody else’s. How could my own heart be anything but healthy in the face of such a  thing.