I woke up slightly earlier than I'd have liked so I'm sitting outside at my business partner Ben's parents' place in Albany having a cup of coffee and a bagel. While I hate to waste yet another gorgeous day by not riding, I'm slightly achy all over, feel the early warning signs of a saddle sore coming on, and generally feel like I could use a day off. But I have to say I am amazed at my own body. I have definitely pushed my muscles and cardiovascular system beyind their customary limits, and they've responded with a cheerful, "Oh, we're biking 216 hilly miles this week? All righty! We're on it!" So, I'll be giving them a much deserved break at the Di Maggios' today.

And this is a great place to rest. Ben is like family to me at this point, so his family feels like mine by extension. His mom called to check in with me from the road since she would not be around when I arrived, and informed me that she'd left a pot of chili in the slow-cooker for dinner. So I felt very well taken care of even before I arrived, and even more so after a hot shower, a huge helping of the aforementioned chili, a couple beers with Ben's brother Dan, and a good night's sleep.

My general daily pattern seems to entail lollygagging, dillydallying, and possibly even some shillyshallying most of the day, then hauling ass to get wherever I'm supposed to be before dark. Yesterday was no exception. I spent a leisurely morning at Janet and Steve's updating my photo gallery and then, at Janet's suggestion, visited the Hancock Shaker Village a few miles down Route 20. Steve had worked there for 15 years and had actually lived on the premises, which according to Janet was fun but a bit restrictive: you can't lug groceries home in the middle of the day, your TV can't be visible from the window, and your kids can only have friends over at certain permissibe times.

Still, once I saw the village for myself I thought it must have been interesting to live there, whether as museum staff or as part of the actual Shaker community. I was very impressed with the level of detail they had achieved in preserving the buildings, artifacts, gardens, and culture, and with the museum staff's in-depth knowledge. The presentation I attended about Shaker music and dancing offerred some interesting insights into culture at large. The authentically-dressed performer not only sang a few of the over 10,000 songs written by the Shakers, but also explained the common themes and patterns, the significance of the songs in the Shakers' worship rituals, and the evolution of their music from simple a capella songs to more elaborate harmony and instrumentation.

She also got us all on our feet to learn a song with correponding shaking, stomping, twirling dance moves: "I welcome the Shaker life, I welcome life eternal. I shake, shake, shake, shake out of me all things that are carnal." Apparently, they would repeat such songs at ever increasing tempos until eventually people were keeling over. I can see this practice being helpful for them in sticking to their tenet of celibacy—gotta burn off all that sexual energy somehow.

My big question was how the Shakers survived at all without reproducing. In short, they built their numbers by promising safety and community in a time and place where there were no social services. If you were a farmer and you had a bad year, your family starved. If you were an orphan you fended for yourself. Apparently some Shakers gave a speech about the merits of their community at a local church, and by the end, the entire congregation, including the minister, had joined them. The Shakers accepted EVERYBODY: all ethnicities, all ages, all religious backgrounds. As a result, their lifestyle seems to espouse two seemingly conflicting values: orderliness and flexibility. The willow tree, rather than the strong and rigid oak, is celebrated in many of their songs as a symbol of the flexibility needed to live in harmony with a truly random hodgepodge of people.

And the Shakers' love of structure and orderliness is apparent everywhere: in the separate men's and women's workshops, in the careful cultivation of the gardens, in the construction of the round stone barn, and (my favorite) in a children's poem about table manners. Here's an excerpt I found particularly entertaining:

Don't pick your teeth, or ears, or nose,
Nor scratch your head, nor tonk your toes;
Nor belch nor sniff, nor jest nor pun,
Nor have the least of play or fun,
If you're obliged to cough or sneeze,
Your handkerchief you'll quickly seize,
And timely shun the foul disgrace
Of splattering either food or face.
Drink neither water, cider, beer,
With greasy lip or mucus tear;
Nor fill your mouth with food, and then
Drink, lets you blow it out again.

I wish some of the men I've gone on dates with had learned this poem.

The Shakers and my stay at Stone Soup Farm the other day have got me thinking a lot about community. I am by nature very independent and very introverted—in other words, a loner. It has historically been very difficult for me to trust others with things that I care about, to depend on others, and to ask for help. But as I get older (and maybe even wiser) I like this tendency less and less. Introducing other people into whatever you're trying to achieve automatically gets messier and more complicated, but if you can achieve a foundation of loyalty and camraderie around a common goal, then the work really pays off.

A big part of this trip is reflecting on my work life over the past 3 years since I "officially" started Digital Loom. Of all the things I've accomplished, the one I'm most proud of is bringing together a small group of radically different people that I can now truly call my family.