excerpt from a May, 1998 online review article by Marc Carnegie of Peter Coyote's: Sleeping Where I Fall.
... Sleeping Where I Fall is weighed down by that humorless mixture of New Age earnestness and Aquarian screwed-upness that has come to signify a generation:
While Jessie [his live-in girlfriend] summered in Martha's Vineyard with her family, she took LSD for the first time. Her guide for this trip was Mel Lyman, a harmonica-playing astrologer and guru to a community of souls centered in and referred to by the name of their locale at Fort Hill, near Boston. They were a high-powered, energetic group, continually building and rebuilding their communal houses to last for eternity. The community published a locally famous counterculture newspaper, The Avatar, and generated wildly bipolar feelings in outsiders. Bruce Chatwin gives a bleak and unflattering portrait of them in his book What Am I Doing Here, but other than losing my lover to them and their playing a few mind games when I visited years later, no members ever harmed me. Furthermore, over the years they have maintained their communal family integrity and are now respected as master builders and artisans. They have constructed homes for such luminaries as David Geffen and Steven Spielberg, and their cohesiveness and fidelity to their original intention are, in my opinion, to be regarded as a triumph.

Jessie had a bad trip. Mel spent the night cleaning up her vomit and witnessing her fear and confusion, and she fell in love with him. She called me not long afterward and told me that she'd found "God" and was moving in with him. She asked me to send her stuff....

"Are you sad?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Four hundred pages of this is pretty much to take...

Mel Lyman