Patricia Mikkelson lives at the Living Springs Log House and is a dear friend of the owner, Barbara Hulley. This article was written in collaboration with Claude.ai, made by Anthropic.

I’ve been excited about healing centers and retreat spaces for a long time.

I’ve spent many hours reading about them: the different kinds, what makes a retreat feel like a real refuge instead of just a nice place to stay, and how healing communities balance rest with classes and care. At one point I wanted to start something like this myself, but I didn’t have the money to make it happen. What I do have is nine years of living on this land. Now that it’s time for new owners, I keep noticing how much of what I dreamed about is already here.

So this article is me thinking out loud about what this place could become. If someone who comes next feels the same pull toward healing work, I would love to help in any way I can.

There’s one more piece of my dream. I’m vegan, and I’d love for this to be a healing center built around plant-based, whole foods, a place where the food itself is part of the medicine. I’m not picturing anything strict or joyless. I’m picturing a shared kitchen full of real, nourishing food, guests who leave feeling restored, and a way of life where health is woven into everything instead of squeezed into a single class on the schedule.

The Water

The first thing I think of is the water. There’s a natural limestone cave spring here that has filled the cisterns consistently since 2017, right through dry summers. Walking down to that cave, with cool spring water running steadily even in the driest Arkansas summer, is its own kind of medicine. I’ve felt it many times myself.

The area around the spring and cave could easily become a quiet sitting area, with a bench or two where guests can rest by the cool water.

How the House Could Work

When I walk through the house with healing work in mind, I see rooms that could each have a purpose. Some changes would be needed, but many of them are small. Here’s how I picture it.

A master suite with its own private entrance. The larger master bedroom could open to its own private entrance, so a resident healer, a retreat director, or a long-term guest could come and go without walking through anyone else’s space. One of the two windows onto the deck could be turned into a door.

A garage that could become two treatment or practitioner rooms. With insulation, plumbing, and some finish work, the garage could become two small, quiet rooms, ideally with a bathroom added on the ground floor. I picture spaces for bodywork, counseling, or a practitioner’s office, tucked a little apart from the main flow of the house.

A basement suite for a resident healer, a retreat director, or two guests on a longer stay. I lived in this space myself for years, so I know it well. Right now it’s one spacious, sunny room that works as a living and dining area, with kitchenette hookups in place. That room could also be divided into two private rooms, with a shared hallway between them and the full bathroom already there. Because a sleeping room needs a window, people would sleep in the sunny main room rather than the two smaller connected rooms. Those smaller rooms still have uses: one could have a window added someday, and either could be a reading nook, a supply room for herbs, or extra space for a couple.

Upstairs, a private world of its own. The upper story has its own bathroom and two extra-large bedrooms, each with room for two beds and two huge walk-in closets. That’s plenty of room for a guest on a multi-week stay, or a practitioner who wants some separation from daily comings and goings. With a private entrance and a deck added someday, it could be a suite all its own.

Between the master suite and the two upstairs bedrooms, there are three roomy spaces, each big enough for a longer-term guest, a couple, or a resident healer to really settle in.

A Room for Gathering and Group Work

Just off the mudroom and laundry room sits the smaller of the two master bedrooms. It has a tiny closet and not much storage. The funny thing about the ground floor is that the only bathrooms are in the two master bedrooms, so it makes sense for this one to become the bathroom everyone on the main floor can use.

I picture this room as a group or workshop space, big enough for a small group to gather for group counseling, health and cooking classes, a talk on growing and using medicinal herbs, or simply quiet shared work. It’s close to the kitchen, laundry room, pantry, and dining room. Two doors, one from the garage downstairs and one from the back of the house, make it easy for guests to come and go.

Because this room already has a bathroom with a toilet and shower, everyone on the main floor would have a bathroom without climbing stairs, while the upstairs keeps its own. A day guest, or someone camping on the land during a retreat, could use the shower too. (An outhouse could be provided for campers.)

I love it when the “problem room” turns out to be the most useful room in the house.

Together with the kitchen, pantry, laundry room, and living room, this floor could become the shared heart of a healing center, the place where guests eat, gather, and come back to after a session, before going to their own quiet rooms at the end of the day.

The Deck and the Storm Room: Quiet Spaces for Rest

In the living room there’s a door that opens onto nothing yet. It was clearly placed with a deck in mind, at the cool, shady back of the house. The steep, forested hill behind the house works like natural air conditioning, and the back stays cool even in the hottest summers. The concrete slab, which never sees the sun, helps keep it cool too.

Build a deck there, screen it in, and you’d have a three-season space for morning stretching, an evening get-together, or simply sitting with a cup of tea and the sound of the forest.

A shade garden full of medicinal plants and other shade-loving species would grow well here in the rich forest soil, a living apothecary guests could walk through.

Tucked into the lower part of the house next to the garage is a room built to keep people safe in a storm, with thick, solid walls. For most of the year, though, it becomes something else: a winter growing space. I’ve hung grow lights in there myself and filled it with kale, longevity spinach, mint, and young moringa trees reaching for the light. On a gray January day, there’s nothing quite like stepping into that room and being surrounded by green, growing things. For a healing center, it could double as a small apothecary and herb-growing room, so guests could see the medicinal plants they learn about growing right under their own roof.

(Tornadoes, the main natural disaster risk in Arkansas, rarely touch down in hilly areas like this one.)

The Metal Building: A Wellness Hall

The 40’x60′ metal building is where my imagination really takes off.

It’s tall enough that a second story could someday be added for more guest rooms or practitioner quarters. That’s a future possibility, not something built yet.

For now, I picture the ground floor as a wellness hall for the whole property. It already has water and a bathroom (ready for a shower to be added), plus electrical for a stove, so a shared whole-foods kitchen is within reach. (The water isn’t running right now, but that can be fixed.) With a large gathering space, an exercise area, and room for treatment rooms or small healing businesses, it could become the place where people cook and eat together, move together, and receive care.

• A plant-based, whole-foods kitchen for shared healing meals
• An exercise and movement hall, with room for classes, retreats, and workshops
• Treatment or bodywork rooms for resident or visiting practitioners
• Space for small healing-arts businesses: herbalism, a fermentation kitchen (kraut, kimchi, kombucha, vinegar), a workshop, a studio

I like this idea because if the metal building holds the shared life of the place, the kitchen, the hall, the treatment rooms, then each private guest room can stay small, simple, and quiet.

Room for Many Kinds of Healing

Part of what excites me is that this land doesn’t push anyone toward one narrow kind of healing. It could be home base for one practitioner, or a shared place where several kinds of care happen side by side:

• Exercise and movement: the metal building’s open floor has room for real exercise classes, stretching, and strength work
• Lifestyle change and health education: support for lasting changes in eating, sleep, exercise, and daily habits
• Massage, bodywork, and other hands-on care: the garage rooms or the basement suite could offer the quiet this kind of work needs
• Herbalism and medicinal plants: the shade garden and the storm room’s grow lights could become a working herb garden and apothecary
• Whole-foods cooking: teaching guests to cook the plant-based meals they’re eating during their stay
• Nature walks and time outdoors: the wooded hillside and quiet acres need no work at all. Sunshine, fresh air, gardening, and walking barefoot in the grass are some of the simplest healthy habits guests can take home
• Water: the cool cave spring now, and maybe someday a spring-fed natural pool
• Rest: a screened deck and a private upstairs balcony would be lovely for slow, quiet days
• Group counseling, support groups, or workshops: in the ground-floor group room, or the metal building for bigger gatherings

A few healers could each bring their own gift and share the common spaces, or one person could build around a single focus. I can picture either one here.

What I’ve Learned Makes a Healing Center Good

I’ve read a lot on this, and what keeps coming up is that the best healing centers aren’t about any one feature. They’re about how well the whole place cares for the whole person, body, mind, and spirit together. Here’s what I’ve learned, and how I think this land fits.

A peaceful setting. Natural light, real nature, quiet, and a sense of calm when you arrive. This land has that: a cave spring, a forested hillside, and very little road noise.

Many kinds of care. The best centers blend different kinds of care: movement alongside nutrition, quiet rest alongside hands-on bodywork. The different spaces here would make room for that.

Community. Healing rarely happens alone. Shared meals, group sessions, and feeling cared for by more than just staff all matter. A shared kitchen and gathering hall would make room for that kind of connection.

Personal care. No two guests need the same thing, and the different kinds of rooms here, from a private suite to the basement quarters to a simple room, would let a center fit each stay to the person.

Kind, skilled people. No piece of land can provide this. It depends on who runs the place and who they bring in. It’s also the part I’d most love to help with, because I care about this land and about doing this well.

Honesty. The best centers are clear about what they offer, what it costs, and what a guest can expect, with no vague promises.

Affordable. Camping spaces could be offered for people on a low budget. So often these places are pricey, and for someone who is able to camp, this could make a real difference in their lives.

In the end, a good healing center makes people feel safe, heard, and hopeful. I’ve felt this land do that for me, quietly, all on its own.

Room to Grow

From what I’ve read about Madison County zoning, you can build more as long as you meet some basic requirements. Talk to the County Judge for specifics. That would leave room to add guest rooms, staff housing, or a retreat building over time.

Beyond the buildings, there’s room for individual and community garden plots, where guests could do the kind of hands-on, grounding work I’ve found so healing myself. I also dream of a farm animal sanctuary, or another kind of animal sanctuary, alongside a healing center, because being with animals is healing in itself.

And Then, the Pond

Here’s a longer-range dream: where a pond once was, spring water still flows all the way from the spring down to that low point in the land. Over the years the site has filled in with cattails and other wetland plants, so it would need to be fully dug out and reclaimed. But the water is still finding its way there, the way it always has.

Once dug out and reshaped, it could become a natural swimming pool, with cold, clear spring water filtered by plants and gravel instead of chemicals. I can picture guests taking a cool dip or a gentle swim there on a summer afternoon.

The Land Itself

All of this rests on the land. A cave spring that has filled the cisterns since 2017. Organic gardens and hugelkultur beds, chemical-free and producing. Quiet, privacy, and a view of the lake that makes the whole place feel like a retreat.

Why This Is Close to My Heart

I’ve dreamed about a healing place like this for a long time, and I’ve loved living on this land. If whoever comes next wants to do healing work here, I would be glad to share what I know about this place and help however I can.

The Living Springs Log House sits on 14.75 acres near Huntsville, Arkansas, with spring water, quiet, private rooms, and a big building that could become a shared heart for it all. If this article stirred something in you, I’d love to hear from you.

There’s So Much More Here

A healing center is just one of the ways I see this land. I’ve written about it from many angles: as a home for co-living, as a farm animal sanctuary, as an intentional community, and as a home for several generations of a family. Each article looks at the same spring, the same metal building, and the same acres a little differently. If this one got you thinking, I hope you’ll read the others on the blog too.

A Few Insights

• The heart of this land for healing is the water: a cave spring that has filled the cisterns consistently since 2017.
• If the metal building holds the shared life of the place (kitchen, movement hall, treatment rooms), each private guest room can stay simple and quiet.