Nomadic Zen – A Vagabond’s Guide To Happiness

Getting to a gathering is nearly as important as being at the gathering. From the time your foot takes that first step to the time you hear the first shout of welcome home, it is a pilgrimage that is shared all over the world by people from all walks of life. We put our lives on hold and do whatever it takes to get to that meadow for a few days and share in a reunion of friends and family that we never knew we had. When I try to tell someone what a gathering is about, it’s hard to find words that truly describe it without sounding cliche. It’s looking into the eyes of someone you don’t know and feeling love and compassion. It’s dancing under the stars to the beats of a drum. It’s sharing a conversation with someone you never knew existed, but appear a reflection of your own soul. It’s sitting down for a meal and making a new best friend. It’s covering yourself in mud, spinning in circles, and smiling so hard that you’re afraid your face is gonna fall off. It’s awakening with the sun after falling asleep under the stars and sharing every bit of who you are with anyone who wants it. It’s a place where fear melts away, hope bleeds from the folks who are there, and love is radiating from everything you see, feel, hear, and taste. It’s a place that is magical and mystical but more familiar than anything you have ever felt. It’s a place that truly strives to harness the good of the world and share the love with everyone.

I got out of the truck and I was almost there. I was in a-camp which is unique to US based rainbow gatherings and it lies just on the outskirts of the rest of the event. A-camp is alcohol camp and is intended for those that must have alcohol to enjoy themselves. At the rest of the gathering, alcohol is frowned upon, discouraged, and outright banned. This is the area that is dedicated to those that must drink. Rainbow is about acceptance and that includes those distant cousins that like to get drunk and rowdy. They’re invited too, we just have to keep them separate or they scare grandpa. I kicked it with the a-campers for a bit and my experience wasn’t as bad some others I’ve talked to. They fed me, offered me beer, and gave me my first bit of companionship that I’ve had in awhile. I wouldn’t go back at dark though.

Up the hill a bit more is where “welcome home” is. It’s where you first see the boarder between babylon and rainbow land. You feel yourself rejuvinated and awake when you cross it and all at once you feel light and nimble no matter how heavy your pack or how long you’ve been carrying it. Crossing this lines welcomes your heart with smiles, hugs, and love while you instantly forget what anything else feels like. You’re greeted with someone directing cars to traffic, people offering to help one another carry stuff, and everyone greeting you with a smile.

As I walked this last stretch I could see cars coming through and a row of them already parked. Some for so long that they’re covered in a thin layer of dirt that was kicked up from the previous cars driving through. I could see where everyone came from and watch people as they unloaded. Each car baring a license plate that would trigger thoughts from those states. I’d see that green tree and smile about portland. The mountains on the plate of Colorado do the state no justice. Or sometimes I’d find one that made me tilt my head a little and say something like, “so that’s what Arkansas looks like.”

As you carelessly followed the crowds of people through the paths you would stop along the way and set your pack down with another group of people. With a “Hey, how are you?” our entire lives would unfold with each sylabel uttered. Sometimes the distraction so great you forgot what you were doing and only be pushed to see what was around that next corner but really not want to move.

When I first got there I didn’t feel much pull to set up my camp. I wasn’t meeting anyone and I wanted to get the lay of the land first. I wanted to know where shitters, kitchens, and water were, and easy access to main meadow. Walking around I found a sign that said all paths lead to main meadow. It was true. It was a such a system that allowed everyone to walk freely, get lost, or just ask someone where whatever kitchen it is you were camped near because that allows you to find your way.

For awhile I just walked the paths and saw where they took me. I would stop along the way and do any number of things. I’d stop and chat for awhile with some folks outside of their tent. I’d hear jokes along the way told by passerbys. I’d walk through trade circle that was dedicated to people bartaring along the loop that came off the path. It was a bohemian bizarre in the middle of the woods where people would trade anything they felt could be traded. Stones, feathers, drugs, playing cards, homemade trinkets, musical instruments, skateboards, condoms, books, and even the occasional candy bar. It was packed like a shopping mall on a saturday afternoon in suburbia.

Sometimes you’d just stop for no reason at all. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in. Open them and stare in wonderment and what was unfolding around you. You would watch people make rock art in the streams that ran through the land or admire the homemade bridges made of mud, stones, and logs that would span larger bodies of water keeping the feet of the family dry. It was as if you walked into the dark ages and we were the forest people that set up an intentional community in the middle of the alegheny for no reason other than to have a place where everyone was welcome.

I’d stop along the way and partake in a side of the event that made me more than just a passerby. There were a few people digging a shitter and I asked if they needed help. For the next several hours I swung an array of garden tools that left my signature carved into the face of mother earth. People would contribute whatever they could to make the place better. They would offer rolls of toilet paper, labor, water, or just a pipe filled to the brim as a thank you for what you’re doing.

For those who don’t know how to dig a good shitter, let me tell you how it’s done. A shitter is essentially a trench that is about 4-5 feet deep, 10 feet long, and one foot wide so you could straddle it while you did your business. You remove the dirt and place it in a pile next to the shitter so you could fill it in after you go and essentially create layers of waste sandwiched between dirt that allowed for it all to compost. A nice shitter will provide toilet paper in a dry container, some ash from the fire to help neautralize things, and a water bottle with a bleach/h2o solution to sanitize when you’re done.

The process would use 3 tools. A trench shovel, and standard spade, and a pickaxe. I made sure I used every tool before I left and did my part to make sure that I would effect the lives of everyone who pooped in there whether they knew it or not! The pickaxe was used to loosen the dirt up. You could either stand in the middle and swing towards the outside to get the “floor” of the shitter or you could stand on the ends at the top and swing below your feet to make the shitter longer. The trench shovel was used as either another way of loosening the dirt on the ground, or windening the walls and making them nice and square. On the ground you would stab the tool into the ground and twist to loosen it up. On the outside you stood with both feet on either side and used it straight down to widen the walls. The spade was just for moving dirt. Scoop it after it’s been broken, and move all of that dirt into a nice neat pile on the outside. Digging a shitter is a noble job.

The shitter had been dug, someone was approaching to cristen it, and I was ready for a break. I headed down to main meadow which is the central area that the gathering is surrounded by. Main meadow is like town square. It’s open and it invites anyone to come out and do whatever it is that makes them feel comfortable. I was kicking it in main meadow and I was finally able to let myself relax. I had been there for hours and on my feet for more. I was sunburned, dehydrated, and for the first time in days my blisters were able to see the light of day. I had an amazing time getting to this point and by now I had felt like I was in retirement. If I laid there that night and not moved for days, nobody would have cared, including myself. I was at peace.

The conch was sounding and that signified it was time for main circle. Main cirlce is the time that everyone gathers in the meadow and everyone is fed. We sll sit in a giant several thousand person sized circle and everyone is taken care of. People will walk around with hot suace, nutritioanl yeast, or a simple cigarette making sure eveyrone is given what they need or what they want. With each blow of the conch people started to emerge from the woods. There were gypsies playing games, fairies dancing, and woman swaying their hips to the beat of men drumming on the dried out and stretched flesh of the animals that god has given us. There were hola hoopers, naked banjo players, and folks so indescribable from that of the previous person that you had to be there to truly understand the dynamics. People emerged from the woods where they would be living for the next few days and for the first time in main circle they ran across their family that they hadn’t seen since the last time they saw them. People would scream and run out and hug their brother or sister. It was beautiful. Chance walked past me and I got to experiece that feeling myself. I met him last year at nationals when he was walking down the road with a sign trying to get west We picked him up and I traveled with him for next week until I was dropped off in Arizona. I too got to run out and embrace my brother that I hadn’t seen in nearly a year. We spent a couple minutes catching up and it would be the last time I’ll see him until the next time. As a parting gift he gave me a drop of liquid THC extract that would have me riding the clouds and hanging out with rainbows for hours.

Dinner comes from the various kitchens throughout the woods. Attached to many of these kitchens is “main supply,” which ensures that essentials are provided to the assortment of kitchens to make sure they were given what they needed in order to fill their pots and pans with their delicious family recipes. If you were apart of main supply, in return you were would make sure that everyone was fed. Kitchens are main gathering points at the rainbow. The kitchens provided food, water, shelter, community, music, fire, and with all of those came the most important; family. People will stick with the same kitchens year after year and that’s when you really see the community develop. One brother told me has been to so many gatherings over the years he has watched children grow up and have children of their own.

Dinner would never contain any meat. At the least it might have some cheese, but for the most part, main circle was entirely vegan so they could serve everyone no matter what their dietary resstrictions were. But also, beyond just being conscious of the needs of others, vegetables last much longer when you’re living without refrigeration. The dishes were always very tasty and incredibly impressive considering where we were. There were curries, pastas, soups, salads, mac and cheeses, and sometimes just spoon fulls of stuff that really didn’t fit into a category but was amazing none the less. Main circle always made sure everyone was full. During the meal messages were relayed to those who were around that ranged from a lawyer offering his services for free to those that were harassed by LEO (law enforcement officers) to a guy that told everyone to cover their shirt in dirt because flies carried bacteria and made people sick.

After dinner many people would just hang out wherever they ate at. Sometimes you’d get into a great conversation about nothing in particular with your new sister you ate next to. Sometimes you end up running into an old friend and having a discussion about metaphyics. Sometimes you’d make friends with another photographer and talk about how you ended up here. Sometimes you napped, sometimes you danced, sometimes you sang, and sometiems you didn’t really do anything at all. But during all of those times you knew you were doing exactly what it was you were meant to do.

When it got dark, the dynamics changed a bit. People would start to split off into different directions. Some returning to the woods and just as many staying right there in the meadow. Some folks would go back to their camps and just spend the night singing around the camp fire with friends. Some would follow the masses to the hot spot for the night. Some would wander around like a nomad and bounce from place to place taking it all in. Some would lay out under the stars and yell at everyone that walked past telling them to do the same. “hey you with the face, you can’t lay down and look at the stars if you’re not laying down and looking at the stars.” It’s hard to argue with that.

The boogie pit was always a go-to spot. It was on the other side of main meadow near C.A.L.M (Center for Alternative Living Medicine) which despite the name, is quite well equiped to deal with most medical situations. Boogie pit had the biggest fire at the gathering and everyone came there to pay homage to that most primitive of the gods. To the rhythm of a drum people thanked it for providing heat, light, and a place to gather. The drums would grow faster, people stomped the ground harder, and almost insync everyone would just yell to the skies as if to let the universe know that, “we are here!”

It had been a long journey to get here and as the skies darkened I felt my eye lids get a little heavier. I ended up taking a walk a little bit into the woods near where the water was setup at. I followed the path along the bend and set up just before you got to Jesus kitchen on the left side of the path off behind a tree. I infalted my pad, laid out my sleeping bag, and positioned everything in a way that made me a feel a little at ease. I zipped down the bag, stripped down to my boxers, and crawled in a place so comfortable I’d sleep as if I were in my own bed.

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