Fall GOTT, Hurricane Ernesto & the Chicken
Current mood: nostalgic
Category: Life
It is both sad and sweet that our traveling show season has come to an end. I will miss camping out back of our shop and chatting with everyone who passes. Being out in the fresh air among the trees and hearing the drumming. Those are the things I love best about what we do. On the other hand, the mosquito battle has become tiresome and there has not been one event without significant rainfall. Oy Vey! So as much as we love the festivals, we welcome the sabbatical. Besides, as the days get shorter and fall approaches, my brain begins to prepare for hibernation. Like the bears, I slow down in the winter.
Of course, every season should end with a bang and this was no exception. While visiting with friends in Virginia, we anxiously watched the weather report as Hurricane Ernesto was due to hit land at about the time we would be camped out at Blackwater Campground for the Fall Gathering of the Tribes. We hesitated for a moment, unsure if braving the elements was such a smart idea. But finally the promise of friends and a festival which is quickly becoming a tradition won out.
Jeff spent most of Wednesday evening and Thursday securing our domain. Spikes and tarps and lots of rope. While I watched the weather report on my new fangled cell phone with internet access. (That was SO cool!). Although I was seriously doubting our sanity and worried about the huge trees surrounding us. In the end, we had a haven to be envied. Thank Goddess. Despite the wind, we never even shook. And we remained relatively dry. Which means we were wet but not flooded. Thanks to the mote and the nifty rain gutter Jeff fashioned in the front of our tent, we did quite well. The storm was downgraded to a tropical depression, but it still got pretty scary and there was a lot of flooding in the areas. Some roads were closed. The campground lost some trees and had road damage. Two windshields were lost from falling limbs. The pictures below are taken of the lake and the dam. If you are familiar with the campground, this is the road we walk across going to the drum circle at the base of vendors row. (If you click on the pictures, it should open to a larger version.)
By Saturday we were drying out and we had a wonderful time. We saw old friends and polished off a bottle of dandelion wine. Then dear friends arrived on Saturday armed with culinary delights (corny, but true). They spent the weekend keeping us company and cooking for us. It was such a treat. And as far as I know, no one was hurt from the storm.
Except there was the chicken..... Four days of hearing the Chicken Dance.... just the thought of it begins the echo once again in my head. Dang it! We love Moonsilvered (http://www.moonsilvered.com/) but that chicken needed to be sacrificed.
Sunday morning a mummer began in the crowd, down vendor's row....In the distance is the roar of a golf cart....The whisper begins.... "Betsy is going to stomp the chicken"..... as it grows louder and the cart races nearer, we gather outside the tent....Betsy zooms up in her cart.....Buys the chicken and sets him to sing in the road. Splat! Crunch! The chicken is gone. Then......wierdest thing. Ever notice how that evil dude in the film is hard to kill? He keeps coming to life? Well, that chicken kept doing the same thing. Betsy would run over it, it would crackle and pop and just keep on singing. The crunch and snap as she ran over it's frame was kind of creepy actually. She finally resolved the problem by stabbing it (which I could not watch actually). Something about how it hung on, I was beginning to feel sorry for the poor bugger.
Oh well. That is it. Nothing special really. Just a pleasant end to a nice summer. Walking through the camp on Monday morning, I said my goodbyes. I love the feel under the trees, I will miss the green. I keep reminding myself that winter must come so spring can begin again. We have some local craft shows we will do, but the camping gear is put away. Until next year when we will begin to long for the life of the gypsy again.
PS - Thank you to Larry and Sue with Moonsilvered for inviting us the first time to Gather and for their part in making the event such a pleasant experience. And to Llama Nation for making us feel so welcome. We will see you in the spring.
Sirius, Starwood and 15 minutes of fame
Category: Life
Life is short. So I have learned to take opportunity when it knocks. That said, we attended two festivals this month in Sherman, NY. We love these festivals. Although they are not the most profitable shows that we attend, we find the energy from the participants a rare treat. They are friendly and accepting. They are fun and loving. It is a time when you can let your hair down and be yourself.
And it is clothing optional.
Egads! Am I insane? Hanging out with naked people? Am I going a bit too far? Stepping off the deep end? Losing the last marble in my bag?
When we first were approached to attend this event, that was our first thought. Our second thought is that all that skin needed to be washed and what better way than with our soap. So we prepared ourselves to be in a strange environment with odd people and tried to have open minds.
Interestingly when people shed their clothes, the barriers that differentiate them seem to vanish. For some reason size, color and age are not as prominent. It is not a sexual thing. It is actually a comfortable family function. With children and parents having fun in the great outdoors. And because it is clothing 'optional', there are plenty of fully dressed people. Some are nude, but most are semi-dressed (sheer/revealing clothing).
Our first visit was an interesting experience and we found that once in the environment, we could not help but bare some skin. Being a plus size mature female, I found it amazing how comfortable it felt. Letting the Goddess in me come out, I felt one with nature and totally free. My body image was completely and forever altered.
Anyway...
A few days into the festival, there was a flyer posted by the body painting booth. '2006 Guinness World Book Record Attempt'. The current record was 254 people it read. To break this record they would need at least one out of every three festival participants.
Interesting, I thought. Should be fun to see.
Only registered photographers would be there to record the event. Photographers? Well, that excluded me. No way was I bearing all to the world. Imagine the pictures that would circle the 'net.
But an entire week of reading those flyers and thinking about my one chance to make a Guinness World Book record was intriguing. Fame. Recognition. Something to tell my grandchildren. My daughter would be thrilled that her mother would be so daring.
On the other hand, My son (how could I have possibly given birth to a conservative?) would be appalled. Not to mention my mother. And Jeff's kids. What would they think of me?
Sigh. You have to take opportunity when it knocks. Someone very close to me often says, "I want to die living."
So yes, my readers. ---- I swapped my clothing for a bucket of paint, signed a model release and sat my paint-coated backside down in the middle of a field while a photographer flew overhead. I stood in the middle of a kiddie pool as skyclad as the Goddess I strive to be and was soaked in cold, sticky goo. I stood as I dried for over an hour waiting for a particular artist to decorate me. (Thanks Ivan). He pasted little sparkly things all over my shoulders and chest. I wore them until I went to sleep because it was so much fun. Maybe the crayons in my box have melted and maybe there is a screw loose in the noggin. But I have made the Guinness World Book of Records! Maybe not my name, but I know I was there because life is short.
We love what we do. We love Brushwood. We love the festivals in New York and Virginia. We love the festivals close to home. We love pitching our tent and selling our wares. We love talking to the people who come to our booth. We love sharing our dandelion wine. We love the hot tub and the drumming. We love the family that we have made with the other vendors. We love the customers who have become very special friends.
To them I say thank you. For being there and sharing with us. To those who have no idea what I am talking about. I say find something that you love. Let your hair down and jump in. That is what it is all about. Isn't it?
I will not live my life waiting to die. I will die living.
This morning as we were packing up from the weekend festival, there were two young girls running among the bales of hay and chasing each other. Long golden hair blowing in the breeze. The older was around 8, the younger about 6.
They ran up to the nearly empty booth as the older of the two pointed to some crystals we kept hanging on display.
"I have 4 dollars", she said. "Can I buy a crystal?"
Jeff and I both looked at each other. Realising that my cost of the smaller version was probably around that price, I nodded for him to cut her down a smaller one. Defying me, he reached over to unleash the largest crystal. I began to protest, thinking he misunderstood me, but realised when he glanced back that he deliberately gave her the larger of the two.
"That is the most expensive one", her teenage sister, who had been watching the encounter remarked. "She only has 4 dollars."
"Tell your mom that she got a good bargain" I said. Sighing because it was not a good weekend at all. It was a small venue and we barely made our cost, but Jeff knew she had been looking at that crystal all weekend.
As they began to walk away, the 6 year old turned to me and asked if she could get something also. I knew she had no money, so my brain raced trying to think what I had that would satisfy a 6 year old without seeming too obvious. Rummaging in the back of the trailer I pulled out a small sachet of lavender I had made and had been carrying around for a while.
"This will help you sleep. It will bring you good luck and keep the nightmares away." I told her grasping to give the small token some meaning. "Put it under your pillow and you will have only good dreams."
Her eyes widened. "Are you lying to me?" She cocked her head to the left, glancing at me through golden lashes, suspicious of information from a stranger.
"I've taught her to not believe everything she hears." The teen chimed in apologetic. A beautiful young lady, she had spent some time with us by the fire last night. Wise beyond her years and so open with her sexuality that I had wondered what demons had shaped her short life. "Some little girls have reasons to have nightmares." She added.
"I am not lying, it is true." I leaned down to smile at the cherub face.
"Really? No nightmares?" The skeptic look was now replaced by hopeful belief.
"Really." I promised, adding a firm motherly tone to my voice. "Keep it under your pillow and you will not have nightmares."
This seemed to convinced her as she glowed the smile of a child who had learned a secret of the universe. She ran following the steps of her older sibling toward the family tent. Prompted by the older child, she yelled a quick thank you.
As she faded from my view, I wondered what caused me to make her that promise and what would happen if it didn't work. Worried about her reaction should she have a bad dream.
Somewhere I felt a small whisper telling me that it doesn't really matter. The magic is in the belief. You only need to believe. That is the magic. What you believe, you can achieve.
Thank you guides for the reminder. The price of the crystal was worth it.
The Village People & Gay Friendly
Current mood: happy
I figure I probably lost some readers with that subject line, but I don't really care, I want to share this. Healing energy, laughter and love sometimes comes from places we don't expect.
Sunday, we were vendors at the Jersey Gay Pride festival in Asbury Park. We LOVE gay pride festivals and vend at as many as possible. Truth be told, we would change anything on our schedule to fit one in. We love the people - what a wonderful, warm, fun group. They are so accepting of everyone. I could go on, but I will save that for another blog.
Although I was looking forward to the festival, when I heard the Village People would be performing, I groaned. Geesh I asked, are they still alive??
"Of course", my daughter laughs. "They are half the reason we are going to the festival."
The Village People? Is she kidding me? It's disco, for heaven sakes!
No. She seems perfectly serious. I shake my head and wonder about kids these days. Don't they realise the Village People are old news?
Late in the afternoon, I watch in amazement at the anticipation of the crowd as the performance nears. Our booth thins out while everyone makes their way to the stage. Jeff grabs his camera and asks if I can handle things while he takes a video. Jeff? The Village People? You aren't serious, are you?
"Heck yea. This is great. I haven't seen them in 30 years." He says as he runs out of the booth.
Over the loudspeaker I hear an enthusiastic voice announce, "Ladies and Gentleman, please give it up for the icons themselves... the reason most of us are here today....the Village People!"
Alone, I stand in awe as the crowd cheers and the music begins. Familiar tunes from my youth fill the air. My foot starts tapping and I find myself bopping to the beat...
A few minutes later lost in the tempo, I wander to the aisle in front of our booth. Looking past the crowd, I am disappointed that I can't see the stage. The energy is infectious ... the tunes so ingrained from my past that it brings me back to a place I had long forgotten. Platform shoes, disco lights, John Travolta and the Hustle flash through my mind.
Macho, macho man......I've got to be, a macho man.....Macho, macho man.....I've got to be, a macho maannnn.
Into the music now, I begin to swing my hips. My 70's moves coming instantly back to me.
Body, its so hot, my body...Body, love to pop my body.
Losing myself in the rhythm, I am now completely engulfed by the electric energy and shaking MY body. A muscular guy in tight leather strolls past. I joke tell him to shake his body. He rolls his eyes and seems to steer consciously out of my path.
Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Macho, macho man ... I've got to be, a macho man.
By the time Jeff gets back to the booth, I am smiling and winded. A friend stops by. We sit and chat about how great the band looks and the video Jeff has taken. Then I realise that if I don't get up to the stage soon, I will miss ever seeing the Village People. Am I nuts? What an opportunity! What an experience!
Running out of the booth, I yell that I will be right back. I make my way through the crowd, closer to the stage. Above me, I see an indian headdress spinning around. A police uniform, a hard hat, a bare chest with leather vest, a cowboy hat.
Just then, I recognize the sounds of a band announcing their last number. For a final time, the music begins and I am estatic.
Young men, there's no need to feel down. I said, Young men pick yourself off the ground
The crowd explodes.....
I am sure you will find.....Many ways to have..a...good...time...(Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump) It's fun to stay at the .....Y...M...C...A
Singing at the top of my lungs and jumping in the air, I spell out the letters along with the crowd. Y...M...C...A.....It's fun to stay at the .....Y...M...C...Aaaa..You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal, You can do whatever you feeeeel.
The music has excited me, I am engulfed in the energy. As I sing and dance, not wanting it to end, I realise that at this moment in time... there is no place I would rather be... nothing I would rather be doing in this world than be surrounded by thousands of gay friends and supporters, singing and dancing my heart out, while the Village People play YMCA live in front of me.
I got to see the Village People. Now, how cool is THAT?!
Every day is a gift, but there are some days where the universe graces you with a bit more.If we arent paying attention at the wonder around us, we will miss these gifts.The Dance was one of those gifts.
For the holiday weekend, we trekked deep out into the woods of Virginia, surround by trees, friends and drumming.A chance to relax, unwind and chat with friends.I cant imagine a better way to spend the weekend.
One of those mornings, after a rain, we discovered a large brown stain on the outside of our vendor tent.We joked that it was from a giant pterodactyl that had raided the dandelion wine. (BTW, which was incredibly delicious and potent.)Momma Sue had a more logical explanation of water and leaves filling up the inside of a squirrel/woodpecker hole and overflowing out of hollow trees.Tree-pee.We liked the vomiting pterodactyl better, but realized Sues explanation was probably more accurate.
This brown spot became a conversation piece.Divination of Tree-pee.Unsuspecting visitors were asked their opinion as I wondered how I would remove the setting stain on our white tent.-But mostly we just forgot about it and went about our business of kicking back and enjoying the time with nature.
Until Sunday, that is.Sitting back and chatting with the most recent visitors, I spent the morning relating stories of how snake revealed himself as my totem.Not by choice mind you, I would much rather have chosen something soft and fluffy, like a bunny.Or perhaps something awesome, like wolf or dolphin.But snake it is and I am glad for it because I have learned not to question spirit.
Shortly a couple of attendees had just visited the booth with their pet boas in tow.The beautiful specimens made me ponder what it would be like if I had a snake of my own.Which is complete lunacy considering my schedule and the demands on my time.But I thought the best way to get over my aversion to snakes is to know one intimately.
What do you think about us getting a snake?I asked Jeff.Sure he answered, making me wonder if he had been listening in the first place.Really? I asked, A pet snake?Yes, he answered, confirming that he had understood what I was talking about.Hmmmm, my brain was churning.
Just then the tree began to pee again.Drip, drip, drip.But it wasnt raining and the stain was spreading fast.So being the protector of home and tent, Jeff went to see where it was coming from.There is something up in the tree, he says.
As we all stepped outside we found that sure enough, about 40 feet above our tent, one of the knots began to move.And twist and twirl.A crowd began to gather.A half dozen naturalists looking up in the air is sure to get some attention.After much suspense, we watched in wonder as a snake appeared.A very LARGE snake.Then, not one but two.Clinging to the girth of the wide towering tree.Slithering and slipping.Slowly together.
My first reactionHoly crap!What if they fall on the tent?!Will they fall?If they fall, I want to know where they go.No sleeping tonight until I know where they land.I had been very happy thinking about my totem until they decided to visit my tent.Are they poisonous?What am I doing out here in the forest anyway???
Breathe.Okay, Donna.Get a grip.They are just snakes.Besides, Protector Jeff is here.He will save me.Honey?Honey?Where are you?My eyes scanned the now excited crowd for the man who would be saving me from the snakes. Where was he anyway?
And then I saw him, my protector, camera in hand.Ready to capture the moment, oblivious to my panic and fear.Dont worry he says, I am watching them until they come down.I dont know why, but it was just assumed they would come down.
At about this time, our dear friends Larry and Sue came over to watch. I have great respect for the both of them.Always calm.Always knowledgeable. Someone, maybe Susan, assured us that they were not poisonous.And that it looked like they were mating.Mating!Really?Wow!How cool!
Something shifted within me.The whole experience suddenly changed from frightening to amazing.I was astounded and intrigued.Like a voyeur, I kept watch.Watching the dance.Two incredible beings slipping slowly along their path.Working their way down the tree.
Intertwined they moved from the original perch to the neighboring tree.We continued to watch, entranced.I heard Susans gentle voice coaxing them along.Thanking them for gracing us.For about four hours we watched this incredible, beautiful dance.Once they were 8 feet from the ground, they separated.The female making her way off into the forest, nature calling her to make her nest.
Papa snake remained, hanging out in the tree.Something about him called to me.I felt his fear of the watchful eyes.We left him be.Allowing him to rest, allowing him to escape.But still he stayed.Feeling for his position and feeling grateful for the dance, I approached him.
It is okay I said.The crowd is gone.You can come down now.I wont let anyone frighten you.As I spoke, he lifted his head.He appeared to be listening.Then slowly he began his descent.Again, Susan coaxed him along, consoling him and thanking him. And somewhere I heard him whisper to me, "Just keep dancing the dance."
A gift.An amazing dance.The dance of the snakes.The dance of life.Thank you spirit for the gift of the snakes.And thank you, sugar for capturing it all on film.As we go through this life, may we continue to dance the dance of the snakes.
nostalgic
happy
thankful
