6/2/07- My first thoughts of Maine- You can smell the water. You can feel it all around you. The air was cool, so the humidity is not either oppressive of bitter. It feels like a warm hand enclosing you in the mist. You can feel the water seeping into your skin. Everything is green and thick. Forests that could go on forever. The lilacs bloom later here. In Denver they are done flowering, but here they are in full fragrant bloom . . .
About the conference so far- it is clear that I need to leave my cynicism at the door and be enthusiastic, or not only will I not fit in, I won't have any fun.
Note: It rained for the first three days that I was there. Then the weather cleared up and became gorgeous- cool and lovely. The only problem, that's when the mosquitoes came out.
6/3/07 (my birthday)- Singing at 6:30am. A great way to start my 25th year. I had a lovely conversation with Missy about kids and drugs and past lives. Sometimes I think I can feel other lives in me. Quieter lives- I was thinking about my personalities. Maybe my Gemini duality is a force of a remembered past life. Maybe not.
6/4/07- I had a wonderful birthday- I got sung to at lunch and dinner. It has helped people learn my name "Hey, you're the birthday girl!" Plus I got cake.
6/5/07- gallery opening. working in a gallery is hard work. nuf said. goodnight.
6/7/07- I went on a boat trip yesterday. There were no whales as we had been promised. In fact, when we asked the captain if we might see whales, he laughed. We did see a lot of birds, which is fitting. I've never felt any connection to birds really . . . but I have been feeling drawn towards the imagery of birds lately. In my dreams and waking life- birds. Anyway, we also saw seals, which was cool. I didn't really get sea sick, although I did get car sick on the bus down to the water. Silly, eh?
Note: I have been having dreams about birds lately and explored this in a dream/art workshop.
6/7/07- I don't think the band had ever seen anything like it. I know I never had . After three encores, the band finally started to pack up their equipment. The crowd had been wonderful- first, they fed the band dinner (something else that doesn't happen too often) then they started to dance. Slowly at first a few people braved the floor. By the break, the floor was packed and the people were loving it. There was an unpretentiousness to the dance. Moving freely and openly with their whole body. Young and old spinning and jumping around each other. Freely, openly, feeling every beat in their feet, legs, arms, heads and torsos. They danced together and apart, through and around, up and down the dance floor. The first encore was expected, even the second was not unprecedented. They relented a third time, but could do so no longer and put away the drums, guitars, piano and saxophone. But then it started. Someone found a drum- out of no where, there appeared the accordion. They chanted nonsense, stomped and clapped. They continued to turn and jump and cheer. The spontaneous music came not from the band but from the dancers, from the dance itself. They had the dance inside of them and even the band had never seen anything like it.
6/8/07- To sleep, to dream. Or, to not sleep and to not dream. In a room full of spirits and other sleeping forms I did not sleep. I strained for sleep and in that straining I struggled and in that struggle I lay awake. When you try too hard for something it invariably slips through your fingers. Now up in the loft, high above the multitude of people engrossed in the poets reading on stage- here I doze, here I dream. With the sitar as my soundtrack I go into a trance so that the dream and life are now one in the same. I have made a nest here- surrounded myself in warmth and comfort. I sleep now and the poetry enters my dreams and makes me live the poetry.
A word mumbled in the night: "Sandwiches"
"The kind you eat?" "Of course, are there any other kind?" And back to sleep.
Note: I didn't sleep much during the week, even when during an all night workshop about dreams, sleep was the main idea. Since I've been home I've been dreaming a lot.
6/8/07 (still)- The collective sigh "Ahh" "Ohh" when the poem is done and no one knows if they should laugh or cry or clap or cheer, but they just sigh. "Ahh" "Ohh" We feel together the poem and let the sound escape from our lips almost involuntarily. "Ahh" "Ohh" is enough to express how we are all feeling.
6/9/07- You would have laughed- because it really is silly. 100 people holding hands, chanting, dancing, circling through and around each other. You would have laughed because it was almost too beautiful to not laugh, not cry. This would have been funny as a parody if it were not so true. You would have laughed, but I could not laugh. Instead I sang and turned and let the remembering enter me. I could have laughed, but I did not laugh and I'm glad.
6/10/07- We painted our faces blue. I don't think the kids understood exactly why we were doing it. They ended up having to go to bed before the talk even started. Why we were doing it didn't matter quite as much as the fact that it was fun. When is it not fun to paint your face blue and lay on the floor to listen to stories. We were honoring Krishna; but we were really just having random fun.
6/11/07- We held hands and chanted. . . "Good where I am, good where I'm going to be" we started to circle around. Passing now familiar faces that just a week ago seemed strange. As the circle got closer the chant grew softer. Soon we were in one gigantic group hug. I hope no one is claustrophobic. I realized that I was no longer standing on my own but being held up, supported by the circle.
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