Mas Méjean 18th century Poetic home in St Remy de Provence

I have never felt at home with the word sustainable. It asks how long we can keep taking before the land runs out. I prefer another question: what do we give back? Grandmother Láné Saán Moonwalker, the elder who came to teach at the Mas this year, speaks of Hom’ Eh, the Mother we all share. In her understanding, the land is not a resource we manage. It is a relative we live with, and every relationship asks for reciprocity. We receive shade, water, food and beauty, and we answer with care, attention and gratitude. This is the shift I am living at Le Mas Méjean, from sustainable use to reciprocal use. Reciprocity begins with listening. The Mas has stood for more than two centuries because it was built in dialogue with its place: thick stone walls that keep the rooms cool, shutters closed in the heat of the day, plane trees that shade the terraces. We have chosen to honour this intelligence rather than replace it. What is already in place: - No air conditioning. The stone walls, the shutters and a fan in each room keep the house cool, the way it was designed to. - An unheated pool, inspired by Indian water tanks, warmed only by the sun and open with the seasons, from April to October. - A 4,500 m² garden left alive, with its stream, its old trees and the toads that sing at night. It is a refuge for birds, insects and small wildlife, not a manicured lawn. - A house preserved, not renovated. Antique furniture, objects collected over generations, nothing replaced for the sake of novelty. - A town on foot. Saint Rémy, its market and restaurants are ten minutes away by foot, so guests can leave the car for the length of their stay. - An electric vehicle charger for those who arrive by electric car. - Local hands. The people who care for the house, the garden and the pool live nearby, and I gladly connect guests with local farmers, markets, olive oil and wine producers. Why it matters to me: I believe environment shapes transformation. When people feel held by a place, they begin to care for it, and that care travels home with them. My hope is that guests leave the Mas not only rested, but in a renewed relationship with the living world. This is a path, not a finished state. Each season I ask the land what it needs next.