Our Weekend in Eumundi

Overnight pajama parties are a source of deep exchange of ideas, a hoot, and the dreaming keeps evolving...
We worked Saturday at The Spirit House, a place of meditation, connection and food. It took a while to find the place, and we had a few hilarious wrong turns, finally ending up in the right place at the right time...kitchen talk: watching Ben cut with lightning fingers, seeing the largest vat of stock I have ever seen, the dance of the kitchen, where many people worked in the smallest of spaces. The sweet cook was 'banished' to the back room, where he made the desserts free from garlic and coriander. We sat on small benches and were fed several taste plates: I remember the multiple flavours exploding...glorious..."And what wine would you drink with this"... Reisling! Voila!
We wandered the gardens, bamboo thick, small lake with ducks, all the seating is outdoors, with tin roof, no walls...very Balinese. Peaceful.
We talked for a long time with the manager of the house.  His parents began the project in the early 90's. We learned the history of the place, how it has developed and what were the dreams...if only they could.
So are dreams possible? Apparently not now, due to council regulations. Is this a little like theatre these days, with workplace health and safety?
As we watched this family create an astonishing environment, with a restaurant and a cooking school, i think about how we create theatre companies.  Because theatre is not usually a money spinner, any investment is for love, and we do not have luscious environments within which to create our work but more often little black boxes and over used studios.  We love them just the same. I sometimes feel more at home standing in a black box than at home standing in the garden.  It brings back the years of work before I moved to Brisbane, where not a week went by that I was not standing in some black box somewhere in the world.
Is our black box possibility? A way of dreaming with open eyes? Is our black box freedom from the everyday relentless rhythm of what we have created? 
Perhaps.