They survived Hamas’ attack on a trance party. An ad hoc center with art and music helps them heal.

The shooting of hundreds of revelers at Tribe of Nova, a trance party in Re’im, Israel, during the October 7 Hamas-led terrorist attacks has caused an outpouring of grief for those killed or held hostage. But while the more than a thousand attendees who survived may be lucky to be alive, many are still struggling with the aftermath of the horrific experience.

In the weeks since, mental health professionals have scrambled to figure out how to help the party’s survivors, some of whose traumas may have been exacerbated by the effects of psychedelics like LSD, which are common at trance events and which some survivors acknowledged having used. Those who accepted it would have been wide-eyed and exceptionally sensitive when Hamas rockets began appearing in the sky.

In an effort to promote their healing, Dr. Lia Naor, a counselor and therapist who practices nature-based approaches to mental health, gathered together a group of fellow healthcare providers. Within a week, they had settled on Ronit Farm, a luxury location north of Tel Aviv, and transformed it into what they called Merhav Marpe, or Healing Space.

As word of the site spread through WhatsApp groups and other social media, the number of daily visitors rose to 600 or 700, organizers said, before stabilizing at about 350. Hundreds of therapists, counselors and others volunteered to to help, and those who used The service also involved survivors of two smaller gatherings that took place nearby.

The location is a short drive from a highway and feels quiet and secluded. It is far enough away from high-priority Hamas targets, such as major cities, that visitors rarely hear alarms warning of incoming missiles. The two main spaces used by Merhav Marpe are a large inner hall normally used for receptions and a lawn on the edge of a pond.

On a recent visit, the interior space featured tables dedicated to art-making, a bar serving hot drinks and a roped-off area for touch therapies such as reflexology and acupuncture.

One survivor, Li-tal Maya, 27, said her chest “just expanded” for the first time in weeks after her first massage session.

There were many more people outside, where the smell of freshly cut grass mixed with incense and cigarette smoke. A small dog with angel wings trotted around and there were workshops on acroyoga, clay sculpting and sound healing. Psychotherapists conducted one-on-one conversations with survivors under trees or at picnic tables.

Dr. Naor emphasized that the efforts were not intended as a complete course of treatment, but rather to provide an “immediate and integrative response to trauma.” The survivors are called ‘guests’ rather than ‘patients’ and choose their own activities.

“There is a helplessness in trauma,” said Dr. Naor, “and this is a way to restore the sense of agency.”

While many said they had become less raw in the weeks since the venue opened, others said they still felt weighed down and unable to return to their previous routines. “Many of us came back virtually unscathed physically,” says Bar Belfer, 34, “but with enormous mental health problems.”

He said he has not yet felt a significant improvement in his own anxiety, but when he is with Merhav Marpe he feels enormous relief.

“Look at this place: it’s magical,” Mr. Belfer said. “It’s just like Nova, but safe.”

Some survivors have avoided formal therapy, said Gila Tolub, interim director of the site. “For some party survivors, this is the only place where no one looks at them with puppy eyes, so they come here to feel normal,” she said. “For others, it’s the only place they feel safe – they come in and just sleep on a mattress, surrounded by love and a trusted community.”

Over the next week, the team plans to restore the healing space at a new location a few miles south of Ronit Farm, with the goal of being a long-term presence for survivors.

As night fell on the recent visit, a group of young people sat in a circle on the lawn, singing and playing guitar. They went through the last set of songs from The Beatles’ Abbey Road and sang together, “Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight for a long time.”