The Gathering

The Gathering

As a student of Qabala, I avoid putting myself in containers and
boxes of culture, nationalism, religion, politics, ideology, etc.

And yet I am an American. And I am a patriotic American in the spirit
of Woody Guthrie - for this land is my land, this land is your land,
this land was made for you and me.

And therefore I am of the Rainbow Family of Eternal Light.

I did not attend a national - the nation-wide gathering of the family
which peaks on the 4th of July - until 2001. But before that I was
recognized by family as being family that had not yet attended a
national.

I had a wonderful time at my first national in the Boise, Idaho
National Forest. An infinity of possibilies opened to me, are still
opening to me. It is the right place where you meet the right people
in the right circumstances.

And yet I have never deliberately gone to a national. I went to
the one in Idaho because I just happened to be in
Missoula, Montana in the middle of June. I went to last year's
national in West Virginia because it was on the way to where I was
going. I went to this year's national because I have been bound for
Colorado ever since I left the Pirate/Garifuna Coast of Honduras.

And this year I went to the national with the totally right people,
people whom I love, people who are full citizens of the wonderworld,
people who were family who had not yet attended a national.

Bonnie and Dan picked me up at the missile base west of Topeka where
I had entered the joyous song of Ed Peden and 'The Infinite Sauce
Band.'

In Denver we were joined by Bridget and her friends Giusepi
Spadafora, a movie maker and prodigous mandolin player, a rider of
railroad box cars who is totally in the spirit of Woody Guthrie. And
Ricky, an amazing musician, the makings of a legendary fiddler.

In Colorado we began hearing horror stories of police beatings while
most stood by and watched, of police harassment, persecution and
brutality against family while most of the family did nothing, while
most of the family found reasons to pussy out, while the majority of
the so-called elders, the holier than thou old farts who attempt to
be priests in what is suppose to be a leader-less, spontanous event,
denounced those who tried to form a consensus for non-violent
resistance.

We took our time getting to the gathering. Our immediate intents were
to make music and to make a music video of the song of Bridget,
Bonnie and Dan for distribution in Ireland, in the hope that this
would lead to a tour of the Emerald Isle in the fall. Our intent was
not to subject ourselves to the terrorism of the police.

Before we left Dan had consulted the I Ching and had gotten the
hexagram T'un. This was the same one that I had gotten in Honduras
during the retreat, of Denize and me, from the rising darkness of
Semanya Santa. It is the hexagram that calls for a strategic retreat
in the face of a powerful tide of rising darkness, a retreat that
becomes a victory.

As we were coming into Steamboat Springs the police stopped Bonnie
and Dan. It turned out that one of their brake lights had burnt out.

They were run through the homelandt security.

We then took refuge with my friend Sheri and our new friend Judy who
live about 20 miles from Steamboat Springs in Hayden.

We had a prolific two nights and two days of music making. But when
we began filming the music video by the railroad tracks we were soon
joined by two of Hayden's finest in two SUV police vehicles.

They were cool. But now everyone was run through homelandt security.
Guisepi captured it on film.

When we attempted to play music on the streets of Steamboat Springs
we were immediately told that police were giving out at least $200
tickets. So we did not play with a readily recognizable container for
donations.

That night we were given refuge in Steamboat Springs by Carol, a base
guitar player and friend of Bridget.

I had a dark dream. I understood what Dan's consultation with the I
Ching meant.

I was standing on top of a mountain with other people and I watched
as a dark tide, a dark army of Orc-like homelandt security police
marched to the foot of the mountain.

I tried to warn everyone. I pointed to the rising tide of darkness
and tried to make the others see.

But nobody saw.

I knew that on the next day my position was going to be over-run. I
prepared to make my stand.

And then I woke. And I understood that the Orc's march only when we
let them.

The next day was the 4th.

The recording for the music video was completed. We made a mushroom
tea. And arrived at the national just before sunset.

Our entry into the gathering was an open road, unopposed by the
police. We left the parking lot with our instruments and immediately
engaged the place with our music.

We were soon joined by a beautiful woman banjo-ist with her angelic
four-year-old daughter, who both directed us to the Loving Oven
Kitchen, where there were awesome musicians, including a stand-up
base player.

We played before a vastly appreciative audience until at least 2 a.m.
Then we went to the Granola Funk Kitchen where we played music until
4:30 a.m.

We were at the right place, with the right people, making the right
contacts, in the right circumstances.

Then I returned to Carol's place with Bonnie and Dan who had a gig in
Wichita, Kansas - that night.

It was, clearly, the best national I have been to.

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