Tag Archives: NeoTribal The Gathering

Aug23

Eliphante Part 1

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I took this photo of the Eliphante logo on top of one of my collages. Can you see the word “eliphante”?

As I was getting my tent up at NeoTribal The Gathering, folks started setting up on my left. They left a nice big space between my tent and theirs, and the space stayed empty most of the day. Late in the afternoon, it seemed as if people were hanging out between my tent and the next one, maybe doing something interesting, so I popped out to see what was going on.

I met three people who were spreading the word about a place Eliphante. I had never heard of Eliphante, or Cornville, Arizona, where it is located. (Cornville is reached via Interstate 17. It is about 97 miles north of Phoenix and about 20 miles south of Sedona.)

The folks had a book called Home Work: Handbuilt Shelter by Lloyd Kahn. (Find out more about Home Work here http://www.shelterpub.com/_home_work/HW-book.html and here https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/381862.Home_Work?from_search=true.) In Home Work, there were multiple pages dedicated to Eliphante. I looked at the pages and became entranced. I could tell immediately from the photos I saw that Eliphante is a magical place.

(You can go here http://www.shelterpub.com/_home_work/_kahn/_122-123/kahn_122-123.html to see images of and text about Eliphante as they appear in Home Work.)

It turns out that the three people lounging next to me are caretakers at Eliphante. They are artists who live in the  “kaleidoscopic, hand-built, sculptural village” to help maintain and restore what was built there by “the artist Michael Kahn and his wife Leda Livant over a 28 year period beginning in 1979.” (Thanks to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eliphante for basic information.) The folks were at the festival to spread the word about Eliphante and to invite people to the series of events happening there in a couple of weeks. I immediately wanted to go and see the place for myself.

(You can also learn more about Eliphante, see more wonderful photos of the place, and watch a trailer for a documentary called Eliphante: Where Life is Art and Art is Life at http://www.theshelterblog.com/eliphante-michael-kahns-sculptural-village-arizona-desert/. Watch for the goat in the trailer.)

I talked for quiet a while to the two guys who were representing Eliphante. They told me the county won’t give the place a permit to host events there (because of the zoning, I think), so all events are open to members only. Memberships are for a lifetime, and folks get membership cards. (One of the guys whipped out his membership card to show me.) I knew I wanted to be a member even before I visited.

Here’s what the Eliphante website (http://www.eliphante.org/) has to say:

Eliphante is a private residence looked after and cared for by the 501(c)(3) non-profit Eliphante, Ltd. We are volunteer run and member supported, on an invitational basis to organizational members. Together, we are working to preserve and restore the work of the late artist Michael Kahn and his wife Leda Livant.

After the festival, I looked at my schedule of dental and van repair appointments and decided I could make the trip to Eliphante on the Saturday before I started my temp job. I went to the Eliphante website to find out contact info, then sent an email explaining who I was, how I’d heard of the place, and saying when I wanted to visit. Within a couple of days, I got a message from one of the guys I’d met. The message said, “So glad to hear from you. You were a great neighbor at the gathering. You are on the list for Saturday…”

On the day I visited, there was an accident on I -17 that brought traffic to a complete standstill. (I was listening to the Grateful Dead, so I just danced in my seat and didn’t let myself be bothered by the delay.) I got to Eliphante later than I had planned, but still with plenty of time to look around during the period when they were receiving guests members.

The directions I’d been sent were very good, and I only had to stop to consult the map once, when I thought I’d missed a turn. Actually, I hadn’t gone far enough to get to that turn. Once back on track, I found the place easily, although no one in a vehicle could stumble upon the place. There are no signs directing drivers to the property.

Upon arrival, I found the creek still flowing. I didn’t realize there were rocks arranged above the level of the water on which I could have walked across, so I just lifted my skirt and waded through. ( I was glad I was wearing my sturdy, all-terrain Keen sandals).

I can't imagine anyone stumbling upon Eliphante, this photo shows the clever signs reminding members that visits are by appointment only.

I can’t imagine anyone stumbling upon Eliphante, so the clever sign in this photo I took must be a reminder to members.

As soon as I walked up to the outdoor kitchen, a little kid (probably about four years old) introduced himself and his brother. Then I saw one of the fellows I’d met at NeoTribal. We were happy to see each other, and he took me to sign the disclaimer that said I wouldn’t hold Eliphante liable if I got hurt or died while I was there. I like the way they got it right out there that anything could happen, and I was responsible for my own damn self.

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This is a photo I took of the Winter Palace, the first home of Michael Kahn, and his wife Leda Livant Kahn. They built it when they first moved to the Cornville area. This is a side view. The entrance is under the awning. The space is a gallery of sorts, as it houses items for sale made by artists associated with Eliphante. The one-room building is very tiny, and I told my guide that I can imagine living in such a small space alone, but not with another person, even another person I loved very much.

After I signed the liability waiver, I was on my own to walk around and look around and poke around. I put my camera in my pocket and went exploring.

The first building I explored was the Hippadome.

I took this photo of the front entrance of the Hippadome.

I took this photo of the front entrance of the Hippadome.

When I walked in, there were several people sitting around in the main room of the dwelling. I was greeted by Leda Livant Kahn herself. Wow! What a wonderful person. She told me later that she was born in 1925, and met Michael Kahn in 1979, at which time she left her husband of 24 years and her nearly adult children. (One child was a freshman in college and the other was a senior in high school.) She was 54 when she started the new chapter of her life with Michael Kahn, which definitely gives me hope for my later years.

The folks in the Hippadome were preparing to leave when I arrived, so I soon had the place to myself. I explored the many little nooks and crannies and took several photos.

Can you find the ceiling fan in this photo I took? The walls and ceiling of the main room were covered in some sort of metallic paper (I think) and then painted in bright colors. In the middle of the floor, under the floor covering was some sort of soft, comfy material.

Can you find the ceiling fan in this photo I took? The walls and ceiling of the main room were covered in some sort of metallic paper (I think) and then painted in bright colors. The ceiling fan was painted to match.

This is the sink area in the kitchen. The doors to the cabinets under the sink are made of wood with cut out designs.

This is the sink area in the kitchen. The doors to the cabinets under the sink are made of wood.

This is a bar between the kitchen and a sort of nook area leading up to the common room/living area. The bar is made from ultra smooth wood that almost gleams in the light. Notice the floor in the kitchen area. Notice the mosaic wall next to the bar. I took this photo.

This is a bar between the kitchen and a sort of nook area leading up to the common room/living area. The bar is made from ultra smooth wood that almost gleams in the light. Notice the floor in the kitchen area. Notice the mosaic wall next to the bar.

The next two photos were taken by me and are details of the mosaic on the wall next to the wooden bar.

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This photo (taken by me) is of an agate slice set in the counter top of the bar.

This photo is of an agate slice set in the counter top of the bar.

This was a nook in the wall with a "stained glass" windowing letting in light.

This was a nook in the wall with a “stained glass” window letting in light.

Ladder. Tiny door. Sleeping (?) loft.

The Hippadome has a second room, with a ladder and what I think is a sleeping loft. On the ground floor of this room were two desks, so maybe it was a work room too. On the second level, just beyond the ladder, there is a small door leading outside. I climbed the ladder up to the loft. That was a precarious endeavor. I thought better of it, but I really wanted to go through that small door, so I heaved myself up at the top. I should have taken my backpack off. I’m glad I didn’t fall.

I took this photo from the loft room, looking back into the common/living room. The blue area in the middle of the floor is a cushy soft napping area. Some sort of bedding material has been set into the floor, at the same level as the stones, so there is a comfortable place to lie down. Notice that the walls under the windows are made of carefully stacked stones.

I took this photo from the loft room, looking back into the common/living room. The blue area in the middle of the floor is a cushy soft napping area. Some sort of bedding material has been set into the floor, at the same level as the stones, so there is a comfortable place to lie down. Notice that the walls under the windows are made of carefully stacked stones.

When I tried to go through the small door, I realized two things.

#1 Eliphante should add to the liability waiver that the institution has no responsibility if a person gets stuck trying to go through a door too small for his/her body. (Yes, I almost got stuck. Again, I should have taken my backpack off. Later Leda told me the door I went through had been the dog’s door.)

This is the tiny door in which I almost got stuck. I took this photo before I tried to cross through the portal.

This is the tiny door in which I almost got stuck. I took this photo before I tried to cross through the portal.

This is what the tiny door looks like on the outside. I took this photo after I extricated myself from the confines of the opening.

This is what the tiny door looks like on the outside. I took this photo after I extricated myself from the confines of the opening. Notice the mosaic to the left of the door.

#2 The Hippadome is built into a hill, because when I stepped through that door, I was standing on the ground.

This was hanging on the wall, in the shadows in the loft room. I had to take this photo with the flash.

This was hanging on the wall, in the shadows in the loft room. I had to take this photo with the flash.

This is one part of the mosaic that covers one wall of the Hippadome. I took this photo.

This is one part of the mosaic that covers one of the exterior walls of the Hippadome.  It is to the left of the tiny door leading from the loft room to the outdoors. Can you see my fingers and camera in the mirrors? The pink on the lower right is not pink tiles, but the reflection of my pink skirt in bits of mirror.

To be continued at http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/08/24/eliphante-part-2/.

All photos in this post were taken by me.

Aug22

Give the Best You’ve Got: A Lesson in Giving from NeoTribal The Gathering

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As NeoTribal The Gathering was winding down, I thought I should give some little thank you gift to Ms. Reiki in appreciation for all the work she’d put into making the festival happen. I grabbed one of my bigger chunks of rose quartz and walked towards her camp.

I’d picked up a nice piece of rose quartz, but it wasn’t a fantastic piece of rose quartz. I still had several pieces from the 1/3 full bucket of South Dakota rose quartz I’d gotten for a good price at a Colorado gem and mineral show. I’d sold and given away a lot of those stones and had more than made my money back. Giving a piece of what I had left was not a sacrifice.

I went up to Ms. Reiki and said a few little words: Thank you. Blah blah. Appreciate. Blah blah. For you, and gave her the stone. She was excited and thanked me, reached onto her table and picked up a piece of rose quartz larger and cooler than the one I’d just given her. She handed the stone to me and said it was for me! She said she knew it was time to pass it on, and she wanted me to have it!

I was touched. And dumbstruck. And I felt like an asshole.

I’d given her something nice, but basically extra, and she turned around and bestowed upon me something really special and beautiful. I knew I should have given her something better, but it was too late. If I came back to her with a nicer gift, it would have looked as if I were trying to show her up.

This is the piece of rose quartz that Ms. Reiki gave me. (Photo by me)

This is the piece of rose quartz that Ms. Reiki gave me. (Photo by me)

It wasn’t too long, though, before I got to give my best.

I’d packed up all my merchandise, taken down my tent, and hauled everything except my big tub of rocks to my van. That tub of rocks is heavy! I knew it would take me forever to carry it to the van alone, and I’d probably hurt myself in the process. I thought earlier that I’d offer one of the guys who’d been hanging out in the grass next to my area a $5 ammonite to help me move the rocks, but by the time I was ready to make my offer, they’d wandered off.

I looked around and saw a young fellow I’d sold a couple of stones to earlier in the weekend. He’d bought a piece of malachite from Bisbee and another green/blue shiny rock I’d never heard of before from Mexico. He’s fastened them to his hood (like the hood of a cape or cloak, but without the robe part). He came back to my both to show me how it looked when he had finished the project. It had turned out really cool, and he seemed like a nice guy.

I asked him if he’d help me carry my box of rocks, didn’t mention any kind of exchange or payment, and he said yes. We hauled the box up to the van, and in the moment before he turned to leave, I reached into the rock box and pulled out one of my biggest, nicest, iridescent ammonites. I handed it to him, told him it was for him, and thanked him for his help.

He freaked out! He was so pleased with the ammonite. He threw his arms around me, thanked me, then bounded off to show it to his friend.

I think maybe I got it right that time.

The piece of rose quartz that Ms. Reiki gave me is the one I passed on to the woman who’d recently had open heart surgery. I wrote about the woman and the rock here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/?s=i+know+you+understand.

Aug20

NeoTribal The Gathering: The People Next Door

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I arrived at the site of NeoTribal The Gathering by 8am. Later that morning, two women arrived and set up right the fuck next to me. The weird part is that they didn’t talk to me, didn’t say hello, much less we realize we are way closer to you than is normal or polite, but we are trying to utilize the shade, or whatever their reasoning was. They just set up their sleeping tent right next to my tent and went on with their lives.

The second thing they did to piss me off was tie a bag of trash to the leg of my pop up tent, again with no communication. At some point I moved my canvas bags I had stored in that corner and found a grocery store bag of trash tied there. I didn’t tie the bag of trash there, and I doubt someone walked over from some other area to tie on that bag of trash.  Who thinks it’s ok to tie trash to the tent of someone they’ve never even spoken to? Who does that?

I heard through the grapevine that the older (in her mid to late 60s) of the two women was a Native American Shaman and a Reiki Master. People were saying her name as if she were someone really special. I don’t think she was special enough to be allowed to tie her trash wherever she wanted. But maybe the other woman was the trash bag lady.

The second woman was younger, probably in her 40s, and was selling orgonite pieces that she and a relative had made.

If you don’t know what orgonite pieces are, don’t feel bad. I’d never heard of them until Sweet L gave me one during our Autumn 2012 Tour. According to http://www.soul-guidance.com/orgonite/#What%20is%20orgonite,

Orgonite is a mixture of catalyzed fiberglass resin with metal shavings, particles or powders, poured into molds. It is said to attract aetheric energy similarly to Reich’s accumulators. Some people also add a couple of crystals to the mixture for their ability to make the energy more coherent or to enhance the working the the orgonite. Thus orgonite basically is a substance which functions as a self-driven, continuously-operating, highly efficient energy transmutation device, drawing in negative life energy and transmuting it into positive energy. The resin in orgonite shrinks during the curing process, permanently squeezing the quartz crystal inside which creates a well-known piezoelectric effect inside the crystal, meaning its end-points become polarized electrically, this apparently causes it to function more effectively as a positive energy generator. Although crystals improve the function of orgonite, they are not necessary for the orgonite to work.

     Anyone can build these devices with easy to find materials. Orgonite is simply a mix (approx. 50/50 ratio) of metal and resin (polyester, urethane or epoxy). It can be poured into all kinds of shapes: pyramids, cones, disks, cylinders and pendants, to name a few. Some people use it to combat pollution and cell tower radiation. Others use it for clearing or purifying energies in their houses, or to enhance the growth of plants in their garden. It seems to work also really well in various kinds of  spiritual healing work. Energy sensitive people have given me various comments on how orgonite affected them. They have shown me that it really does work. You can also interact with it and use it for specific purposes.

I overheard the orgonite woman telling a potential customer that she was “a money magnet.” How nice for you, I said in my head in a snarky tone of thought. Who says that? Ok, a Wall Street tycoon, maybe. Who says that at a spiritual and healing gathering?

The third thing they did to piss me off was to hang out in the tiny area between my tent and theirs late into the night (and I don’t mean at 8:30) on Saturday. Couldn’t they have hung out on the other side of their tent? Couldn’t they have hung out at someone else’s tent? They weren’t being rowdy, but there was talking, and it did disturb me.

The older woman considered herself an intuitive healer, I guess, because she was doing tarot card readings throughout the weekend. She didn’t seem to realize (or maybe she just didn’t care) that she had her table parked so close to my tent that not only was there no space to walk between the two, but I could hear every word she and her client were saying. So much for privacy.

The first thing I overheard that I thought was worth writing down was a client saying that when she dances, “I’m trying to tap into the life force of the universe.” I’m going to keep my comments about that one to myself, because when the woman uttered those words, she probably did not realize that there was a snarky blogger in the tent next door hearing (and possibly noting) every word she said. (Although as close as her intuitive healer had her sitting to that tent, she probably should have thought to whisper.)

The second thing I overheard (and then pulled out my notebook and wrote down verbatim) was something the “healer” said to a different client. The client was very upset, crying, seemed to feel as if she had no real path in life, was just kind of stumbling around from one adventure to another. (I can relate, honey, I really can.) The woman also seemed to be feeling and taking on a lot of pain from other spirits and wanting to help those others heal. (I can relate to that too.) In addition to whatever else the “healer” said (I swear, I was not sitting there trying to listen), what I heard her clearly tell the client was “Release all concepts that you should be anything but what you are.”

Really? All concepts? I get accepting oneself as one is. I get forgiving oneself for what one has done in the past. But releasing ALL concepts that one should be ANYTHING but what one is? That seems like a little much.

I mean, should murders, rapists, and Dick Chaney release all concepts that they should be anything but what they are? Should I just accept that sometimes I am a snarky asshole and never try to do better? (Perhaps my father long ago released all concepts that he should be anything but what his is…which is a guy who thinks he’s funny when he makes jokes at other people’s expense. He is, in fact, an asshole.)

Shouldn’t we want to be better than who we are at the moment? Shouldn’t we want to be kinder, more loving, more compassionate? Maybe the Dalai Lam gets to release the concept that he should be anything but what he is, but the rest of us? I don’t know. I’m skeptical that it’s a good idea for the rest of us.

The way I know I should be something other than what I am? When I left the gathering, I untied that bag of trash from my tent tent leg and left it in front of the neighbor’s tent. It was childish, I know. A mature person would have just walked it over to a trash can. A better person would not have held a grudge. Next time I’m faced with a similar situation, I’ll work on being something different from what I actually am.

Aug19

NeoTribal the Gathering: You Kids Get Off My Lawn

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It was early in the morning; the air was still cool. Children were running around the festival, fed recently enough to have lots of energy, not yet sapped by the heat. I heard the sounds of their voices change as they ran through the Healing Garden.

Then the voices seemed to congregate in one place. I heard the door of a Porta Potty slam repeatedly, as well as what sounded like thumping on its walls. I walked to the front of my vending area and saw a group (five? six?) of kids standing in front of one of the portable toilets. There was more slamming of the door and general squealing of children.

I walked over calmly. The kids looked at me skeptically. I spoke in a low voice and said to them that the Porta Potty was not a place to play. I asked them if they could find another place to play.

They started talking over each other, trying to explain what had been going on. One boy said he hadn’t been playing, he’d been trying to use the restroom, and the other kids had been kicking the walls of the Porta-John while he was in there!

I again requested they find another place to play, and added, We’re all going to be sad if that porta potty gets tipped over.

Especially me if I’m in there, the boy added.

The kids wandered away, and I went back to my jewelry and my shiny rocks.

Aug18

NeoTribal The Gathering: Mukunda

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I was in my vending space when a little tiny person toddled in. The bit of hair fluff he had was white blond, and his eyes were huge and blue. He smiled and laughed and his mom followed him in.

We chatted a bit, and I said I thought her little friend was cute. (I try not to assume an adult and kid in public together are parent and child, although in this case they were.) I asked his name, and she said, Mukunda.

She explained breathlessly that it’s one of the names of Krishna and added that she and the kid’s dad named him Makunda Ram Das. I didn’t say anything more than Oh! while nodding and smiling.

According to https://krishnasmercy.wordpress.com/2010/06/22/mukunda/, [o]ne of Lord Krishna’s names is Mukunda, meaning “one who grants liberation”. According to Wikipedia,“Ram Dass is an American spiritual teacher and the author of the seminal[2][3] 1971 book Be Here Now.”

 

I will admit right here: I didn’t know much about the followers of Krishna. I thought they wore robes and handed out flowers while asking for donations. (Do I have totally 1977 ideas about the followers of Krishna?) This woman and her husband (whom I met later) looked and acted like other mainstream early 21st century white people. This couple certainly looked more “normal” than most of the other people at the festival: no visible tattoos, no dreadlocks, no tie dye, the man was clean shaven and wore shorts and a t-shirt, the woman did not have on a flowy skirt or flowers in her hair. Maybe followers of Krishna blend in now and I didn’t get the memo. If I had guessed a religion for this little family, I’d have speculated Mormon or maybe Lutheran.

I’m not even trying to be snarky here. I just think it’s a little weird to give your kid one of Krishna’s names if Krishna isn’t your deity.

Maybe I’m the asshole for assuming the family does not hold Krishna in a religious place of honor. (My dad always said, When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.) Now that I have internet access, I Googled “do followers of Krishna dress a certain way?” and found “An introduction on how to be a devotee of Krishna.” According to that website,

The devotees you may have seen distributing books like Bhagavad-Gita, or chanting the Hare Krishna Mantra with traditional Indian instruments, or dancing and chanting dressed in traditional Indian robes, are for the most part full-time monks of the Hare Krishna movement. The vast majority of Krishna devotees, however, live and work in the general community, practicing Krishna consciousness in their homes and may sometimes visit Krishna temples for inspiration and prayer.

Oh. I guess I am the asshole. My apologies. I was holding 1977 ideas about the followers of Krisha. Now I see that it’s quite likely that Mukunda’s parents are devotees of Krishna. I should have just asked, but sometimes my brain is quick to jump to conclusions and slow to ask polite, well-meaning questions.

 

Aug17

NeoTribal The Gathering Part 2

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Photo I took in the Healing Garden.

Photo I took in the Healing Garden.

Even before my tent was totally set up the way I wanted it, people were stopping by to chat and to buy things. Before the day was over, I’d paid my vending fee, plus a tiny profit. It’s nice to make enough to cover the vending fee on the first day of a multi-day event so I can quit worrying about my expenses and just bask in the profits.

I took this photo of my vending setup at NeoTribal The Gathering. I put up the curtain walls to block the sun, but they also gave me a tiny bit of privacy at night.

I took this photo of my vending setup at NeoTribal The Gathering. I put up the curtain walls to block the sun, but they also gave me a tiny bit of privacy when I slept in the tent at night.

I quit trying to sell as soon as the sun set. I don’t have a generator, and there were no electrical outlets nearby, so even if I had brought electric lights, I couldn’t have used them. I didn’t try make any sales by the light of my two small lanterns.By the time I closed up the tent and had some dinner (which consisted of mashed potatoes so I wouldn’t lose my crown which was held in with temporary adhesive), I was too tired to think about partying.

I wasn’t sure about where to sleep. I knew I’d probably be more physically comfortable in the van, but I wasn’t 100% confident that my merchandise would be safe if I left it alone. I decided to sleep in my vending tent, so I schlepped over Nolagirl’s plastic tarp and one of my layers of memory foam, my pillow, my sheet, and my new Ikea blanket. I folded the tarp in two, laid it on the ground, then put my memory foam on top. Such comfort!

I didn’t even have to go anywhere to hear music. I was situated between two stages, so I spent the night in the middle of a perpetual electronic dance music mashup. Both my body and mind were tired, and I slipped into something of a trance state between sleep and wakefulness. It was sort of like being high without any of the problems of being on drugs.

I can’t say I slept well. Sleeping on the ground would have been more comfortable with two layers of memory foam between it and me. I was a little bit too warm too. At some point after the music stopped, I woke up to some guy yelling. I don’t remember what nonsense he was shouting, but I sighed and rolled over, thinking what a relief it was to be unaffiliated with the man losing his shit and screaming in the darkness. Later, the wind picked up and the side curtains repeatedly blew in my face. I worried about the stability of the pop up, but it held up fine. All ended well, and I got a few more hours of sleep.

Saturday was much of the same, although I (thankfully) didn’t have to haul, unpack, and set up all of my merchandise again. Being able to stay set up was such a blessing.

I took this photo of my rock table at NeoTribal The Gathering.

My rock table at NeoTribal The Gathering.

No way were there 500 people at the event. I think an estimate of 200 would be a generous exaggeration of the actual head count. I did well for the number of people who passed by my booth (and most people who passed by did stop and take a look at least once), but I did not do as well as I expect I would have done with a crowd of 500. Actually, it’s probably a good thing 500 people didn’t attend the festival. I don’t know if the four flush toilets (two in the women’s restroom and–I presume– two in the men’s), plus the five portable toilets could have comfortablly accommodated 500 people.

I think because I was in my tent with curtains closed by 8pm on both nights, I didn’t see much drug use. A couple of ladies came into my tent early on Saturday afternoon, and they were acting just a little strangely, and I wondered if they were high.They might have been just a little socially awkward. On Friday night, I heard some guys right outside my tent talking about “molly,” and I don’t think they were discussing a female friend.

However, a woman I’d gotten friendly with over the weekend told me early on Sunday morning that she’d been woken up in the wee hours of the morning by a couple she was confident was high on ecstasy fucking (her word) right outside of her tent. She said their heads were hitting the side of her tent. She said another ecstasy couple was also fucking (her word again) very close to her tent. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was that there was so much open space nearby but not close to any tents where these couples could have gone and not bothered anyone.

On Sunday afternoon, a fellow did ask me if I traded for “herbal medicine.” I told him no, I don’t use it.  Then I felt I had to explain that although I don’t use it, I don’t think it’s wrong, but in fact I don’t use it, and no one in my immediate vicinity uses it, so I really have no desire to trade for it. He seemed to understand, even though my explanation felt really clumsy to me.

The one other time I knew drugs were around was when I went up to the amphitheater because I had been told the closing ceremony was about to happen there. When I got up there, a reggae band started playing instead. The band’s front man immediately started singing about Israel and I got a huge whiff of weed. I realized the closing ceremony was not about to happen up there, so I left to finish packing up to leave. I’m not surprised (or even offended) by smelling ganja or hearing about Israel at a reggae show, but it’s not what I wanted to be doing at that moment.

Sign in the Healing Garden. Photo by me.

Sign in the Healing Garden.

One thing that was really cool about the event was the age diversity of the folks who attended. There were families with babies and little kids, and much of the time, those kids were running around playing together. There were, of course, lots of young adult there for the music and dancing (and the sex and drugs too, for some of them.) I saw older couples and met a few women (probably in the 45 to 55 age range) going through divorces who had come for a day of healing away from their (soon to be) ex husbands. Several of my customers (including the young man who offered to trade for herbal medicine) were hanging out with their moms. Many festivals I’ve been to have been attended mostly by very young adults, so it was good to be somewhere with a wider range of ages. I think the age diversity was at least partially due to older folks coming to give and receive healing in the Healing Garden, as well as older folks coming for the drumming in the Heartbeat Village.

According the the NeoTribal The Gathering website information on Heartbeat Village (http://neotribalthegathering.com/heartbeat/),

It is said that the drum is the heartbeat of mother earth  and those that have lost their rhythm, have lost their connection to the planet…

For some there is a need to find that rhythm again for others there is a hunger to deepen that relationship to the earth  but for all there is a connection to each other and the planet through the Drum. Join us in the HEARTBEAT of Neotribal a space to create learn and experience healing through music dance and sharing. Instruments Drums and percussion will be provided by Neotribal free of charge for all that attend our workshops…

The ethnic diversity of NeoTribal The Gathering was a bit better than some of the festivals I’ve been to where all I saw were white people. As is typical in the Southwest, in addition to all the ostensibly white people, there were quite a few Latino/as. In addition there were some native Americans and a few African Americans in attendance. Again, I think it was the drumming circles and workshops that brought much of that diversity to the festival.

Overall, I’m glad I attended NeoTribal The Gathering, especially since I didn’t have to pay to park or camp. I made just about the amount of money I wanted to make. It’s always nice to meet my goal.

IMG_2414     IMG_2415

When Ms. Reiki tried to give me postcards to hand out before the festival, I told her that I don’t really know people in the area. She told me I’d make 40 new friends at the gathering. That was an exaggeration too, although I did have some good conversations with people (and shared a couple of nice hugs). I gave me card to folks I suspect I’ll never hear from again (and no one have his/her card to me.)

I don’t pretend to understand how the Universe works or why I end up at any particular place at any particular time. Maybe I was at NeoTribal The Gathering just to give a guy with dreadlocks and tattoos a good price on a piece of danburite that I’d been hauling around and putting out on my table for months. Or maybe I was there to listen to the older Navajo women attending the event with her son; I suspect I might have been the only other person there she felt she could relate to. Maybe my role was to offer my ear to the woman who needed to vent about the couple fucking against her tent. Maybe I was needed simply to provide a bag of ice for the elders’ luncheon when the organizers forgot to buy some.

I can’t really say why I was there, but I hope I did my part.

Bracelets and necklaces decorated with beads, baubles, and trinkets.

Bracelets and necklaces decorated with beads, baubles, and trinkets.

Pendants of wire wrapped stones by James Smith. Hemp work by me.

Pendants of wire wrapped stones by James Smith. Hemp work by me.

Necklace with pendant of skull carved from smoked yak bone and turquoise.

Necklace with pendant of skull carved from smoked yak bone with turquoise accent bead.

All photos in this post were taken by me.

Aug16

NeoTribal The Gathering Part 1

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I was selling my hemp jewelry and a few shiny rocks at a weekday urban farmers’ market. A busload of junior high school kids on a field trip were deposited there for some reason, and I had several 8th grade ladies at my table. Suddenly, there was an energetic woman on my left, halfway behind my table with me, telling me she loved my work and handing me a postcard about an event she was coordinating. She said vending cost $235, but she’d give me a better deal. Cool, thanks, I said and assured her we’d talk soon. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wanted to get back to my customers. Eighth grade ladies are my bread and butter.

When I got back to the host family’s house (after visiting the local IRS office and then the drug store where I had to buy temporary dental adhesive for my crown that had fallen out again), I took a look at the postcard the woman had given me. The event was called NeoTribal The Gathering and was bill as “3 days of camping & ceremonial bliss surrounded by the transformative energy of art, music, and dance.”

After doing some poking around on the internet and looking at the gathering’s website and the website of the Reiki healing studio of the woman who’d approached me, I decided they both seemed on the up-and-up. I sent Ms. Reiki an email saying I was interested and asking to talk soon.

I didn’t hear from her Thursday, so I called her and left a message on Friday. When we finally talked, she said I could vend for the three days of the event for $75. Then it came out that camping would be extra, payable directly to the park where the event was being held upon arrival. But Ms. Reiki said I was welcome to camp in the Healing Garden, the area she was organizing. She told me I would sell there too.

According to the NeoTribal website,

Healing is the art of restoration. The “Neotribal” Healing Garden offers Holistic Health & Healing for all participants of the gathering! Experience natural healing in many different forms. Our healing energy is a vehicle that will bring positive transformation to our families and our planet at large. Join us for hands on healing, bodywork, energy balancing, yoga, meditation, prayer and wisdom talks. Experience positive self care through spiritual & holistic education and cultural development.

I wasn’t really satisfied with all of the answers Ms. Reiki was giving me. I felt like she just wasn’t answering all of the questions I asked, or at least wasn’t answering my questions in ways that left me feeling I understood what exactly was going on. I wasn’t sure if she was somewhat unorganized or simply blissfully sure the Universe would somehow take care of everything. In hindsight, I think she was sure of the Universe and a bit awkward with verbal communication.

Ms. Reiki invited me to go to her house on Saturday after four when folks would be over painting signs for the event. I told her I’d be working on Saturday maybe until 5pm, so I’d decide depending on how tired I was. I ended up working until almost seven o’clock and not making it back to where I was staying until after 7:30. I was too exhausted to contemplate keeping my eyes open, much less driving, then meeting new people.

I went to Ms. Reiki’s house Sunday evening to drop off my vending fee. Even after I paid my money, I still wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. By that point I was in, no turning back, but I wasn’t sure I’d make the right decision. But in some way I can’t explain, I felt as if I were supposed to be at the event.

I was a little nervous when Ms. Reiki said this was the first time NeoTribal The Gathering would be happening. She pointed out that over 600 people on Facebook said they’d be attending, with another 400 people saying maybe. She thought about 500 people would actually show.

I spent the next four days preparing for the weekend. After leaving Ms. Reiki’s house, I went to Nolagirl’s house and picked up her pop up tent. Of course, I also used the time to express all my concerns and doubts.

On Sunday, I also implemented my five necklace a day plan. 5 necklaces a day x 5 days = 25 new necklaces to sell at the event. I stayed up late and cranked out the five.

On Monday I went to the thriftiest of thrift stores to find colorful curtains to hang around the sides of the tent to block as much sun as possible.

Later in the week, I got The Lady and The Boy to help me set up the pop up tent so I’d have an idea of how to get it to work. I hung up the side curtains too, so I could get a feel for the whole setup.

I made my five necklaces every day (and some bracelets too), and I was well equipped for the festival.

I arrived at the venue, Estrella Mountain Regional Park in Goodyear, Arizona, before 8am on Friday. When I stopped at the pay station at the park’s entrance, I told the woman working that I was a vendor, there for the NeoTribal gathering. (I don’t remember exactly how I phrased it.) She said, I can tell…, and I thought she meant I can tell by that hippie van you’re driving that you’re here for the event. What she really said was, I can tell you where to find them.

She did tell me where to find them, and she handed me a pass to hang from my (nonexistent) review mirror. She never asked for money, and I noticed she had written VOL (volunteer) on the pass. Score!

I found the Healing Garden and found a close-ish parking space. There were already several tents set up and a few people moving round. It seemed like people were just waking up.

Some of the tents in the NeoTribal The Gathering Healing Garden Photo by me.

Some of the tents in the NeoTribal The Gathering Healing Garden. Photo by me.

More tents in the Healing Garden. Another photo by me.

More tents in the Healing Garden. Photo by me.

I spotted Ms. Reiki, already busy, and walked up to say hello, good morning. We talked a bit about where I should set up. Then I was on my own to make trip after trip to and from the van  to unload the pop up tent and the side curtains and three tables and my chair and all of my merchandise. (I did ask for–and get–help to carry my large tub of rocks.)

I was mostly set up by 10:30, when everyone gathered for the ceremony honoring elders. The elders were a multicultural bunch: Latino/as, Native Americans, East Indians, people from Burundi and Bhutan, and white folks too. Little kids and adults joined together in singing “We’re a Rainbow Made of Children,” then people offered blankets to the elders.

There were way more blankets than elders, so several people were left holding blankets with no one to offer them to. A young woman (late teens or early 20s) came up to me and asked if I would accept a blanket. Awkward! I said, Oh Sweetie, I’m not that old, but thank you anyway. I think in that situation “elder” meant “person old enough to be your grandparent,” and I was NOT old enough to be that young lady’s granny.

The ceremony honoring the elders seemed very sincere, not about making the organizers look cool, but about giving love and respect to the older folks. I was moved to tear several times during the ceremony.

When the elders moved to their luncheon, I moved back to my booth to finish setting up my rocks.

To be continued at http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/08/17/neotribal-the-gathering-part-2/.