So long ago Was it in a dream, was it just a dream? I know, yes I know Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me - #9 Dream - John Lennon http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7ThzeFA8lg&feature=related Somewhere Under the Rainbow An admittedly myopic view of the bigger picture By Maren Tarro http://alibi.com/index.php?scn=feature&di=&story=28435 It was sometime after midnight, and a steady, cold rain was falling. Thunder broke above the mountain ridge, seemingly only feet above my tent. Neither the stormy symphony nor the pillow wrapped around my head came close to muffling the combined thumps of more than 100 drums that climbed to a rhythmic cacophony and filled every space in the dark pine forest. Pounding endlessly day and night, hundreds of calloused hands struck the stretched skins, hammering out a sort of heartbeat. It rose and fell, slowed and quickened collectively. At times it was almost gentle and timid; then, without warning, it built to a frantic pace. Regardless of the tempo, the primitive palpitation always sounded as though it was seeking something out. It never ceased. It was my fourth night in the Santa Fe National Forest, and I’d yet to grow accustomed to the constant drumming accompanying the more than 10,000 attendees at this year’s national Rainbow Gathering—a temporary intentional community comprised of hippies, nomads and Earth children seeking to live in harmony with nature. Actually, I hadn’t managed to acclimate to anything at the gathering. Not the sounds, not the smells, not the complete disregard for nearly every societal norm. They call themselves a family, made up of tribes and clans that travel and live together, some year-round, and some only part-time. They shun the world as we know it and seek to create their own using public lands and the First Amendment. They hold smaller gatherings throughout the year then come together at a different national forest each year for a huge family reunion. I had tried being open-minded, empathetic, treating the whole thing as an anthropological study, but I just couldn’t do it. In a desperate attempt to see eye-to-eye with this Rainbow family, I had even broken an eight-year hallucinogen-free run and eaten a mixture of honey and psychedelic mushrooms. But there I was, in the midst of a mellow trip, further from understanding them than I had been when I arrived. Their customs, traditions and endless maze of contradictory beliefs had brought my frustration to a tipping point matched in intensity by their most frenzied drumming. Though I had planned to stay for seven days, I was done. I wanted to go home. Welcome Home Twenty-six miles from Cuba, N.M., deep in the forest, I parked my Jeep precariously close to a steep ravine’s edge. Having somehow managed to follow the vague directions nonchalantly offered by a dreadlocked man wearing a dusty blazer, who steered gatherers into parking configurations cooked up in his blissed-out head, I pulled into a spot some 10 miles from his original suggestion. It was a tight squeeze between a Toyota and a log marking the spot behind me as decidedly “taken.” From there it took three trips, loaded down with newly purchased camping gear and hailed by calls of “Welcome home!” to find and set up camp. My friend Naomi and I were joined by 22-year-old Bonnie and 58- year-old Dave, who we’d arranged to pick up in Albuquerque through a rideshare board. Bonnie was a Rainbow Gathering veteran who’d offered to show us the ropes, and Dave was her roommate along for the experience. Our campsite was a mile up and down hills from the trailhead. The distance mattered little when compared to the view. Perched on a grassy, flower-covered ledge that dropped gently into a tree-filled valley, the hike seemed worth it. A nearby kitchen called Deep Faith only verified our decision. Cavernous pots filled with simmering beans and rice sat atop a fire-baked mud oven and sent steamy aromas through our campsite. I dropped in on the open-air kitchen and asked to snap a few pictures. My request appeared to irritate the kitchen workers; their irritation deepened when I admitted I was from a newspaper. They turned their backs to me, covering their heads with their sweatshirt hoods, as I tried to capture the rustic feel of the handcrafted oven. Exhausted from miles of trekking through the woods and racing to set up camp before ominous clouds released their rain, we stuck close to camp and rested for the night. I became aware of the drums minutes after snuggling into my sleeping bag. With my eyes closed, I imagined I was sleeping in a South American jungle on the verge of discovering a fabled tribe. (Forest rangers surveyed the Gathering from horseback. In the distance, a man could be heard shouting, “Take a picture, it’s a horse with two assholes!”) Peace, Love and Awkwardness The morning brought sunshine and a visit from a neighboring camper, Brent. His ready smile and hint of lingering baby fat epitomized the rainbow spirit I had read about while researching this nomadic tribe known as the Rainbow family. He joined us for tea and admired the valley view for a moment, then pointed out the slit trench at the bottom of the hill. Affectionately called “shitters” by the family, the four-foot-long, narrow holes were as modern as toilets got at the Gathering. It was only minutes before someone came along and unknowingly gave us a graphic demonstration of shitter protocol. What a view, indeed. Brent sent prayers and blessings our way, suggesting I join him the next day for a nature walk hosted by an herbalist, and headed off to meet friends. We set out ourselves to see what we could see. We wandered down the main trail through the trade route, a stretch of well-worn forest path flanked on either side by family hocking their wares: hemp necklaces, cigarettes, ramen, crystals, herbs, candy—you name it. No money is exchanged at the Gathering, only bartering is allowed. Most vendors had wish lists consisting of items they’d be willing to trade for. A typical wish list might read, “Bud, mescaline, shrooms, acid, ride to NYC.” The trail was clogged with people making deals and people just trying to bum anything for free. Fighting my way through the throngs of people —some of whom had been in the woods for weeks readying the campsite—I was occasionally assaulted by body odor so sharp my eyes watered. Surprisingly, the smell didn’t originate from those who would be described as hippies but rather from gutter punks. Dickens would have called them street urchins. They were a rough bunch, sneering and grabbing, their darting eyes observing it all with suspicion. As we reached the end of the crowd, we came upon a man trading intangibles. He was offering unconditional love in exchange for funny dances, cartwheels or silly walks. I managed a vaudevillian trot as I passed by, starting to feel myself getting into the spirit of things. I smiled often, and each time someone addressed me as sister” or “mama,” I responded in kind. I hugged strangers, ignoring the invasion of my personal space even when those embraces lasted for minutes at a time, incorporating an awkward intimacy into what should have been a casual greeting. Babylon—the real world in Rainbow vernacular—began to melt away. I was in the woods with family, and I was going with it. I mean, if the only requirement for membership was having a bellybutton, then I qualified. Right? The Sound of Creation Mealtimes could be quite a production. Signaled by the blowing of a conch, Gatherers materialized in the main meadow, streaming out from the surrounding forest and arranging themselves in concentric circles. Once assembled, all would join hands and a collective “ohm” would reverberate through the lush green clearing. Brent explained the ohm as being the sound of creation. Whatever it was, the collective hum was not only audible but palpable, as well. Its low vibration radiated out from ribcages, traveling down outstretched arms and from hand to hand. Meals were prepared and served by a number of kitchens with colorful names like Musical Veggies, Granola Funk and Turtle Soup. They’d make the rounds, handing out rice balls and ladling vegetable stews followed close behind by an obviously seasoned Gatherer shouting, “Yeast! I got your brewer’s yeast!” Bonnie explained the yeast was used to supplement the vegetarian fare, helping to fill in any nutritional voids. I only partook once. Receiving a generous “sprinkling,” the yeast outweighed my stew, transforming the already bland portion into a thick, chalky, inedible paste. Fortunately, after nightfall, several kitchens upped the culinary ante. Teasing impossibly tasty dishes from roaring fires and letting out their own sounds of creation, cries announcing their efforts rang out from the hills. “Oz has pizza in the woods!” “Sushi at Deep Faith!” “Get your asses over to Shut Up and Eat It for deep-fried zuzus!” Oz’ thin-crust pizza was satisfying on many levels. It was perfectly executed in both crust and sauce, and unlike most of the Gathering’s meals, it proudly displayed meat atop the cheesy slices. More surprising than the pepperoni was the cooking method. The deep-woods chefs had managed to heft an actual oven up a steep hill to their site. Hooked up to propane tanks, the appliance seemed as at home as it would in, well, a home. Deep Faith’s vegetable sushi was packed with fresh and pickled veggies, a welcome break from camping’s nonperishable fare. But Shut Up and Eat It stole the show. Gatherers refer to sweet treats as “zuzus.” Shut Up raised the stakes to state-fair standards by deep- frying battered chunks of caramel apples. The chefs made candy-studded trail mix look like packing peanuts. An Oz chef checked the progress of pizzas baked in the woods while a kitchen volunteer advised those waiting, “Don’t forget to bake your
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Good one Bohdi. (perfect for the archives, many lessons within) Here's an excellent article from .... of all places .... the Voice Of America - that old Cold War propaganda machine. I guess someone on the staff there had their minds blown ... Rainbow Family Gathers for Peace By Erika Celeste Santa Fe National Forest, New Mexico 06 July 2009 http://www.voanews.com/english/AmericanLife/2009-07-06-voa51.cfm While most people express a desire for world peace, few have any idea how to bring it about. Some get involved in politics or community service; others support organizations working for conflict resolution. Many say a prayer for peace in their worship services. For the past 37 years, people from all 50 U.S. states as well as many foreign countries have spent the July Fourth holiday in Santa Fe National Forest near Cuba, New Mexico to pray for world peace. There is a Native American legend which says when the earth is broken and the land is dying, a tribe of many colors and creeds, like the rainbow, will rise up to heal the planet. These special people would be known as the Rainbow Warriors. In 1972, a group of about 2,000 free-spirited individuals decided to hold a gathering for world peace and took the name, the Rainbow Family, in honor of the legendary clan. A man who goes by the name Barry Plunkar helped organize the first gathering, which was to include an hour of silence for participants to meditate for peace. Now there is not any one place on this planet where you could impose any sort of authoritative silence on any of these people, he says. Only half of those present kept quiet. So the organizers made the silence voluntary and suggested that those who would like to participate should gather in a circle. Soon Christians and Krishnas, Buddhists and pagans, Jews and atheists were joining in the quiet celebration, holding hands in a meditation circle of peace. Over the years, the hour of silence has expanded, and now the circle lasts from dawn until noon. So there's no way to impose silence. It has to come from the community, Plunkar says. That's self-discipline on the part of individuals. Hour of silence grows into week of activities The silence isn't the only thing that has grown over the years. The event itself has also grown, from a weekend to a full week of impromptu workshops, discussions and activities, with as many as 20,000 participants. Plunkar says people often begin camping in the forest as much as a month early to prepare for the gathering, while others stay after the event on clean-up duty. We all share one thing: We show respect to one another, with the idea and the vibration that if we truly had any love or respect for one another, we would not lay [power] trips on one other, Plunkar says. We are not above one other; we're not below. We're sort of living a natural equality. Because of this natural equality, Rainbows believe in self- responsibility and govern by consensus instead of through a hierarchy. There are no leaders, because that would be exercising control over another. There are no rules, except to treat each other with respect. Therefore, there are no membership requirements. Anyone who wants to be a Rainbow is a Rainbow. Participants bring their talents Denny, a man with long, blond dreadlocks, says while this may sound like it would inspire chaos, quite the opposite is true. We're known as the world's biggest unorganized organization, so everybody has to take it upon themselves to decide what their duty is. I personally love cooking, so I come with my talent and whatever I can, and a lot of people here have better talents to, say, make a tarp over the kitchen than, say, I do. So everybody comes out and brings whatever talent they can. It's a massive volunteer effort to feed the Rainbows during their gathering. Denny is one of a few dozen people running the kitchens, which serve free food. Like the campsites, the kitchens have catchy names. You can grab a bite to eat at sites like Instant Soup, Jesus Kitchen and Lovin' Oven. And many of the attendees take colorful Rainbow names, as well. Food, music, merriment Musicians playing everything from folk music to rap wander through the forest, engaged in spontaneous jam sessions. Each day, people gather in the meadow in small circles for workshops on everything from herbal healing and tai chi to drumming and juggling. An outdoor market is set up along a path through the forest. Rainbows display bumper stickers, crystals, candy and other wares on blankets. Goods are purchased through barter and trade, not money. A special area called Kid Village is set up for the smallest Rainbows. Medicine Story, a Wampanoag Indian from Massachusetts, uses his talent as a counselor to organize special games and music for kids. It's like a summer school in trying to figure out how to live together in a good way, Story says. To me, the most important part of that is how we are with the kids and, of course, how we are with each other, because that effects the kids, too, and so that's my main focus. Excitement builds as the time for silence draws near. Robby is a Rainbow elder, a respected member who has attended many gatherings. A slight man, he sits in his wheelchair in front of his tepee and recalls his first one. I was sitting together in silence with my daughter, and I was crying. There were tears all over my face for Mother Earth, and a sparrow landed on my foot, a little sparrow. That's the kind of thing that happens in silence. It's kind of an interesting thing to stand in a circle when you can't see the other end, and you know you're all thinking about the same thing that we wish we could stop war and have a peaceful family - it always makes me cry. As the sun rose high in the Santa Fe Forest on Independence Day, the Rainbow's prayer for peace was spreading. Across the Atlantic Ocean, a second Rainbow Gathering was taking place in a forest in Ukraine. At noon, the silence broke and people begin to sing as the youngest Rainbows led a parade across the meadow, signifying the bright promise of tomorrow in a world of peace.