history of a retreat center

For anyone who is interested in a brief history of Omega and it's founding philosophies, here is a link to the history section of our website:

http://www.eomega.org/omega/about/history/

Here you will find that Omega's founders were students of Pir Valayat, and that we got our name from Teillhard de Charin's philosophy of the 'Omega point', the point toward which all life is evolving toward together.

when one retires at night weeping...

From our darkness:

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/the-kill-team-20110327?page=1

I often wonder what the root causes of such actions are within humankind, and if they are unique to human beings, but numerous studies have shown that chimpanzes, as well as other non-human animals, are capable of acts of calculated violence toward members of their own species. It's a process of the evolution of consciousness, and growing to the point where you realize that your own safety and permanence in this world is not as important as creating a safe and loving environment for others.

Our light:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPsIl5cb6AE

We are 'works of divine art', and when we remember our divinity and tap into our source, we are capable of creating endless and abundant love and beauty.

We are the darkness and the light. We are infinite and finite. We are creators and the created. We are everything and nothing. We are totally in control, and totally out of control.

We are everything, we are the Universe.

rock me, mama, like a southbound train

I've spent the morning half-listening Democracy Now!, GritTV, and Aljazeera. As much as I want to take the stand that the world is falling apart and we're all going to die, I am essentially an optimist at heart and I only see a major shift in the actions and mindset of humanity.

The uprisings in the Midwest and Middle East/North Africa are indicative of everyday people making the decision to take their power back from corporate-controlled governments. Although the protests in the United States have remained 'civil', the populations overseas do not have that luxury, and it is commendable that they are willing to give their lives in order to make a better life for their future generations.

How many people are beginning to wake up with the natural disasters, nuclear disasters, and political and social uprisings occurring seemingly all at once?

I also see an increasing awareness of the negative effects of large scale 'suitcase' farming, such as the type done by Monsanto (a company I believe to be the living Anti-Christ). People are beginning to question where their food is coming from, the methods in which it is grown, and the way the growers and harvesters are being treated. I see this becoming less of a fad concern and more of a genuine concern for good, local produce grown ethically and sustainably, supporting local farm economies.

People are starting to pay attention to more than just the kids from Jersey Shore. People are starting to wake up.

Also, I have 'Wagon Wheel' by Old Crow Medicine Show stuck in my head, and have been playing it on guitar daily.

happy birthday 24

"I wish I were a bahhhhhhhhrd"

Today is my birthday, which isn't really something worth making a post about. Generally speaking my birthdays are pretty lame. Today might be semi-interesting because I'm going to go with my mom into town to return the falty printer she purchased last weekend. I also might read a chapter of my psych 202 book in order to get ahead of the game on assignments. In addition to this, there might be cake, which doesn't really matter because I am not eating sweets right now. I might treat myself to to frozen waffles for breakfast, however, and watch lots of stupid YouTube videos. All of these activities are fairly normal and not at all exciting. But I'm gonna do them. That's what she said. So now I'll leave you with the 'Oh my gah!' video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69A3aL3Yrs0

Also, I fell asleep listening to Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand last night.

things returned

Back when I was a young tyke, before my great adventures outside of Ohio, my friend Forest gifted me a book that would change my life: The Little Prince. On the title page he wrote the following message:

Amanda,

You are an odd duck. Don't ever lose the feeling of wonder.
Life is extraordinarily beautiful.

-Forest 11/15/05

P.S. Grown ups are altogether very strange.

Later on I loaned this book out to another friend, but soon after this I left Ohio and just assumed I'd never get the book back. Today in the mail, however, I recieved a mystery package and when I opened it I was pleasantly surprised to find my copy of The Little Prince from so many years ago. I can't wait to read it again and keep it with me at all times! This makes the pain in my back seem more minimal.

My aunt hired me out today to help her clean, but apparently my back does not want me to make any extra cash because I woke up this morning with a flare-up from the injury I suffered during my car accident this summer. The pain is less than excruciating and I have to be careful with how I bend and lift things, but at least I can still walk. I still made $20 though, which is pretty amazing considering my current state of unemployment.

Last weekend my adopted 'parents' from Omega came to visit. We went to Cuyahoga Valley National Park and watched the mating habits of the Great Herons. Yesterday my mother and I saw a Great Heron in our backyard. Turns out we didn't need to drive two hours to see some big, gangly bird that is only good for stealing fish from our pond and leaving other mystery fish in it.

flashback 2007 - how we met EZ camp

After our first night at the Gathering Nick, Dina and I decided that camping on the side of a small mountain with nothing more than a tarp might not be the most comfortable setup, especially when there were no other people camped near us. Nick volunteered to scout a new camping spot if Dina and I walked the approximately 2 miles back to the car to retrieve our tent and sleeping bag.

Thankfully he found a beautiful spot on a rocky cliff (not really a cliff per-se, but an elevated rocky bank) right next to the Little Buffalo river. We were high enough up that we wouldn't get flooded out if the rain decided to continue for the rest of our stay, and being right next to the rushing water was so very soothing. We were also in an open area that allowed direct sunlight to hit us, so we would dry quickly even if it did insist on raining.

Nick met us about halfway down the main path and led us through the woods to our new camp. We set up and took a dip in the river. Later we decided to trek back to the car for our clothes and personal belongings. On our way back it was beginning to get dark, and as we passed a cluster of camps and a small kitchen located directly across the river from our tent we heard someone shout, 'Come eat beans, please!'.

"What?" we yelled back.

"Please come and eat beans!" was the answer.

"Okay, just give us a minute," Dina replied.

When we had dropped our belonging off at our camp we crossed back over the river and entered the camp. There were approximately 10 people sitting around a fire eating beans.

"Do you have blissware?" a man sitting by a second fire, a kitchen fire, asked as he held out a giant serving spoon of beans.

"What?"

"A dish for your beans"

"Ohhh...Yeah," we brought out our metal coffee mugs and held them out to the server.

Two huge heaping spoonfuls of beans later we were sitting around the fire getting to know the members of Normanally EZ Livin' camp, a kitchen whose core group were friends from Norman, OK. They were some of the nicest people I'd ever met, and they were all in their 20's, aside from one woman's two-year-old son. The beans were the most delicious I'd ever had, seasoned with some mystery spices that I will never know the source of.

We spent the entire week with this camp, playing music, eating, joking around and becoming family. To this day I still keep in contact with some of the wonderful people I met at EZ.

general update

Will and Serra are visiting tonight and into tomorrow morning. We will be going to Cuyahoga Valley National Park in the morning. I'm very tired and feel like hiding under a giant quilt for a few months...

japan is a bad neighborhood to be in right now

I feel so much empathy for our brothers and sisters and gender-non-descript human siblings in Japan. It's like, jayzus, can't they get a break? Just for a day? And then there's that video that went viral on Youtube of the young 'Christian' woman thanking 'god' for answering her prayers by smiting Japan. Here is the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UmotTE-VlY

I'm pretty sure this is the most hated video on YT, but I'm also convinced this woman's videos are meant to be satire. Nobody is that stupid. Well, some people are.

Apparently Jon is stuck in Japan because he can't get into Tokyo to catch his flight back here. I trololol until the radiation gets him, then I boohoohoo. Also, I have bad cramps. So, all in all, the world is great for everyone.

late night/early morning ruminations

Although I spent almost two hours laying on a heating pad that was set to 'high' and listening to a variety of ambient-house bands, as well as Magna Canta and Arcanus Nox, all while watching videos with pictures of Caribbean beaches, I cannot sleep. The previously mentioned activities put me in a strange trance-state for a while, which was counteracted when I decided to drink a glass of wine and listen to Dennis Wilson. Now my ability to decide whether or not it is time to go to bed is completely gone and I can't think of any quiet activities to fill the space between now and sunrise. I suppose reading a book might work, and I started to pry into Abarat, but I get so distracted by my desire to carry out random Google searches on things like "How can I tape my thumbs to my hands to look like a T-rex?", or, "What types of pie do pirates enjoy?".

After I conduct my research I zone off to a fantasy world where I envision fight scenes between epic characters such as Troy Palamalou versus RnB singer Sade. Then I wonder what all of the douchebag Bros on college campuses everywhere are doing RIGHT NOW. What sorts of douchebagery do you suppose they are getting themselves into? I wonder if they are Google searching how to tape their thumbs to their hands in order to look like a T-rex as well. Perhaps there is a future fassbouk group in the making.

And then for some reason I decide I want to look at pictures of Bob Ross:



And if that isn't enough I then find myself asking, "Why the hell is Bob Ross holding a baby raccoon? Doesn't he know that those things carry rabies?". So I decide to do some more Google research and I find this article:

http://bramblitt.net/?tag=bob-ross

So now I've decided that Bob Ross is a pretty incredible human being. I'm a little sad that I took his presence in my childhood for granted. There are a number of incredible human beings in this world who are often overlooked, which leads me to believe that if the crazy lady who posts youtube videos about how angels told her the world was going to be destroyed by a comet is correct and the world is in fact destroyed by a comet, that would be totally okay. It would be okay because humankind has had ample opportunity to express itself in all of the crazy and wondrous ways it can. The Divine spark that is in everything brought Bob Ross into existence, as well as every person who dons the Ronald McDonald costume, and all of those douchebags on college campuses who are playing beer pong right now.

It is at this point in my ruminations that I begin to realize how desperately I need sleep, for my own sanity. So I will leave you with this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgiD6DLsmIY&NR=1

crazy moment

I'm having a crazy moment right now where I just sort of want to be non-existent, or eat a lot of chocolate ice cream and watch Steel Magnolias. This is a good sign though, because it means my moon is coming! But it is annoying as well, because I am currently being occupied by some masochistic psycho-bitch who feels bloaty and angry at the male sex and wants to eat all kinds of strange things.



I just found out some terrible news: This Is Why You're Fat, the beloved website, has also been replaced.



FML.

flashback 2007 - pre-gathering roadtrip cont. and our first night at the gathering

The money Nick, Dina and I made busking in Columbia, MO was enough for us to rent a sleazy motel for the evening. When I say sleazy I do truly mean that this motel was something comparable to the Bates Motel, only in the Ozark Mountains. In the middle of nowhere. Where nobody could hear us scream.

We checked in close to dusk and as night fell and we lay in the queen-sized bed, joking about the level of creepiness of the motel. This particular motel was run by a nice but strangely aloof and terse Indian family. The matriarch was dressed in traditional clothing, including a flowing silk sari. They seemed like pleasant people, despite the way they glared at us upon check-in. They were definitely the least creepy aspect of the motel's ambiance. Our constant banter focused on hillbilly ax-murderers breaking into our room and robbing and killing us, but this soon became less banter and more concerned conversation. Eventually my cousin and I pushed the desk in front of the entrance door, which was already bolt-locked. The thunderstorm that had just started only added to the horror-film setting.

Things began to take a turn for the worst when Dina began to get freaked out and Nick brought out his katana. So there we were, three young adults huddled in a musty motel room in the mountains with a katana sword at our side. Dina and I tried to change the mood of the conversation by drawing comparisons between the Ozarks and the Appalachians, and Dina treated us to some of the old Appalachian ballads she'd learned while attending Warren Wilson college and studying Appalachian music. We definitely felt calmed by the familiarity of her voice, but when something started scratching at the bathroom window and she and I both flipped out, that was about the end of it. I jumped up, locked the bathroom door, and placed a chair under the doorknob to secure it shut.

Although we decided we were all being ridiculous and paranoid we still kept the doors barricaded and slept with the katana next to us. Luckily no crazed hillbillies broke into our room and we survived the night, only to be harassed by the wife of the owner, who insisted check in was at eight, even though the sign on the door said eleven. Before we even had time to assess the true creepiness of the place in the morning light we were ushered out of the room and into our cars, whence our roadtrip continued.

Later that day we reached Fallsville Arkansas and the Ozark National Forest, home of 2007's Rainbow Gathering. The first thing we noticed about the tiny little hick town was a gas station/convenient store with a sign on the door that read, "Local Customers Only". Our initial reading of the town's approval of the Gathering goers was that they really didn't want a couple thousand smelly hippies running around in their woods smoking dope and 'making love'. Luckily there was a more corporate gas station right across the street where we were able to find some staples such as beef jerky and mixed nuts to accompany the homemade hummus and pita bread we'd brought with us from Ohio.

As we drove down the access road into the parking area for the Gathering we began to see an assortment of vehicles. Vans, cars, converted schoolbuses; all painted and covered in mud, or in some way damaged or very run-down looking. There were nicer cars as well, but almost every car sported an array of bumper stickers, all of which were in support of either a) environmental issues/the green party, b) Ron Paul, c) the Grateful Dead, or d) the legalization of marijuana. There were other bumper stickers in similar categories, some with witty sayings, some with quotes from great human beings and teachers. All of the cars had one thing in common: They were covered in a thick layer of red dirt that went up to about mid-door level. Dina's shiny and relatively new little car made its way to one of the only available parking spots at the side of the access road, in between two other small cars. Nick was driving at this point and it was his decision to roll down the windows and blast something like Metallica or ICP, something he thought would be very anti-Rainbow. As he tried to ease the car into the spot it sunk into the mud that had formed from the endless rain the last week or so. The passenger side tilted into the line of berry bushes that marked the wilderness. We decided not to fuss with it.

As we exited the vehicle some very dirty hippies walked past and told us it was about a 2 mile hike into the actual Gathering from our parking space, so we decided not to take all of our gear in, since it was going to be dark very soon and we'd have to quickly find a place to crash. Unfortunately none of us thought to bring the tent. Nick felt that our tarp would be sufficient until we had more time to scope out a permanent spot and set up camp for the rest of our time there. None of us brought our backpacks either, which made hiking in really easy.

About half a mile away from the actual Gathering we could hear what sounded like drums and tons of people shouting and laughing. At this point there were lots of people milling about, going to and from vehicles, but we could not see the thousands of people predicted to be there. We ended up following some women who seemed very excited when the sound of chanting and tambourines was heard. Soon a line of robed individuals playing tambourines and other hand percussion were headed toward us, and they had cookies. These turned out to be the Hare Krishnas from Om camp, and they were notorious for giving away free vegan cookies to all who were arriving.

"Welcome Home!" was the call we heard from all sides as we hiked the final stretch into the Gathering. Random strangers came up and hugged us. People handed us cookies and other treats. Someone offered us ganga granola. Suddenly there was an explosion of people and the drums were louder than ever before, and we could hear rushing water.

"This was what Ghana was like," Dina said.

I felt like I'd entered another country, another world. People were dressed in colorful, mud-covered rags, their hair dreadlocked our unkempt, dogs ran around everywhere without leashes. We came to a rushing river with a log bridge that was obviously constructed by the most recent occupants. We crossed in a procession, our gear on our heads, as the Hare Krishnas followed behind to return to camp for more cookies. We were passing through a whir of color and sound and smell, everybody smelled like their natural body odor, or patchouli, or sage. Nobody was wearing shoes.

The sky was reaching a point of darkness and rain clouds were threatening to drop their bounty on us as we veered off the main path and into the woods. We began the process of setting up camp for the night, which included stumbling through the woods and eventually choosing the least uncomfortable place to put the tarp down. We chose a place on the side of a hill that forced us to sleep with our feet below our heads. Our tarp was barely sufficient to place beneath us and arc over us as protection from the rain, which we soon needed. I had decided to wear a skirt. I had many insects crawling up my legs that night, my feet hung out the end of the tarp and so were quite soaked the next day, and once again I nearly suffocated on Dina's hair. In all honesty I was just glad we weren't attacked by the wild boars everyone said were out there.

------------------------------------

Alright, folks, that's it for the flashback posts for now. Next time I'll tell you all about how we ended up camping next to the coolest people from Oklahoma ever, and I might even get to the part that includes nudity and body paint...

has spring finally come to replace the darkness of my soul?

After my last post I was enthusiastic over the prospect of warm weather come to stay, but overnight it snowed again and froze all of the rain into a sheet of ice. After about a week the outdoors decided to warm up again, although I did not notice because I have secluded myself in my parents' house and am refusing to leave until I a) head to New York, b) summer arrives, or c) Jesus returns (with vegan fudge brownies). I could tell that the weather had warmed up though because my friends were posting about it on facebook. Also, the snow has been slowly melting away the past two days. Still, I do not trust these events as more than a charade, pure trickery.

Previous to the 'big thaw', my new nickname for the latest of mother nature's charades, I convinced my mother to purchase a dozen day-old doughnuts from Wal-mart (yes, we shop at a store that supports child labor. Where else would we get a dozen day-old doughnuts for less than $2?). We brought them home for dessert and I took it upon myself to get out a tube of red frosting from the baking cabinet and write 'REDRUM' on the green-frosted creamstick we'd set aside for my brother. Also I wrote 'MY SACK!', on a lemon cream, and "KILL", on a white-frosted creamstick. I took a picture of the REDRUM doughnut:



I wish I owned a better camera (I use the lens on my netbook) so that I could capture the essence of the REDRUM doughnut. Needless to say, writing 'redrum' on a day-old doughnut does not make it any more or less delicious.

I've succumbed to the world of social networking in complete totality: I now have a twitter. I'm not really sure why I have a twitter because I don't think anyone is going to want to read updates such as, 'I wish my cat would stop jumping out of the shadows and clawing my ankles', or, 'my brother tricked me into watching anime again', or, 'my mom just yelled 'here's your sack!' to my brother'. Maybe if I were a famous personality people would be interested in the mundane events of my life.

--------------
Oh my god, I just went outside for the first time in days. It's raining. I did not feel like I was in a giant walk-in freezer. WHAT IS THIS TRICKERY? I demand to know! It's only March 9th, it is too early for mediocre warmth! I'm scared.
______________

In addition to not leaving the house and being completely paranoid about the outdoors I've started watching anime with my little brother. I think I might be turning into a shut-in. Again.

some changes to the weather and an anniversary celebration

It has been raining since last night, which means that the snow is melting. Our pool looks like it comitted suicide, it deflated at some point during the past few months. My mom had plans to weatherize it, but when I saw it again after six months it was sagging down in the snow with only about two feet of water left in it. We think it sprung a leak at some point, or that my little brother shot at it with his bow and arrow.

LizO decided she does not want to be in a relationship with her boyfriend anymore and she sent me a message asking if we could list our relationship status on facebook as 'in a domestic partnership' with one another. I agreed, although it seemed strange. We are also listed as siblings and are karmic/internet siblings. We just celebrated our four hour anniversary.

I'm experiencing a state of brain dead from spending all day editing old livejournal entries in order to make them presentable for the general public.

I also may be experiencing a hypoglycemic crash from three servings of ice cream, which accompanied the butternut squash lasagna my mom made for dinner. Me full. Me want take nap. Me no want go work out on treadmill. Treadmill evil.

the joy of younger siblings - anime

My younger brother and I just spent the last three hours watching a variety of anime shows. The first one we watched was pretty hilarious, it was called Ouran (which every time I see written makes me think I'm reading 'quran'). In this particular show there was a scene where a young girl was fantasizing that she was sitting in a giant teacup, kind of like the ones at Disney[land?]world (I've never been to either so I'm not sure which). Now, I must preface the following scene by telling you all that my brother is infamous for talking constantly during movies, television shows, commercials, etc. and he likes to add his own commentary {especially annoying when you are trying to listen to Whoopie Goldberg's character in The Color Purple and all you hear is "You told Harpo to beat me!"}. So as the scene of the young girl lusting for her lost soul-mate in the giant teacup (anime, remember?) was taking place my brother says:

"I'm in a teacup, bitches! You be jealous?"




This is the part where I internally ::facepalm:: and externally laugh for five minutes straight, which usually just encourages my brother to repeat the line several more times until it is no longer funny.

The second anime we watched was called Sgt. Frog. When I asked my brother what it was about he said:

"Aliens. Who are also frogs."

Very helpful.

I feel bad for the adults in this household, as all they've heard for the past three days is, "MY SACK!", and, "I dunno, I dunno, I dunno F***!", from the Bill O'reilly freakout techno remix (we spend a lot of time on Youtube)...




Alas...earwax.

flash forward - today

I'm going to take some time out to blog about things that are happening in my life currently, although I am eager to finish my tale of the Epic Roadtrip and my first Rainbow Gathering. I will eventually be telling the story of what I did after I dropped out of college the first time, the Buddhist retreat center where I volunteered (and the cast of characters I met there), my various other odd jobs and roadtrips, and eventually the discovery of the love of my life; a retreat center called Omega, where I have worked for the past two years. There are enough stories about Omega to fill hundreds of blog entries, but we'll get to that later.

Right now I'd like to start off by explaining that I am currently bumming around my parents' house until April. I was down south doing a variety of different things, but we'll get to that in another post. I have a brother who is ten years younger than me and quite the character. He is extremely vocal about his opinions of things and often very critical of, well, pretty much everything. Unfortunately, he has some strange mannerisms which often get him made fun of at school.

Recently he has been complaining that some kid in his P.E. class has been trying to cop a feel of his sack. Two days in a row this has happened since I've been back in Ohio, and yesterday he told me that he hit a student in the head with a hardback book because, "He kept trying to touch me innappropriately". Today my step-dad informed me that the middle school called because my brother again hit the same kid with a heavy textbook. My brother's answer to why he did this was, "He tried to touch my manboobs". When my mother got home from work she sprinted down the hallway and yelled, "I got to use the word 'manboob' while talking to Cole's principal today!". A ten minute discussion of bullying, school procedures, and manboobs then ensued. I sat quietly in my room and wondered how many other families in the world acted as strange as mine.

***edit***

I failed to mention that since my little brother watched the Nostalgia Critic's review of 'Ernest Saves Christmas' (and subsequently forced me to watch it) we have been running around tormenting the parents by yelling, "MY SACK!". You'd have to either see the movie or the review (preferebly the review) in order to find this fully funny. That is all.

the adventure continues - flashback to 2007 pt. 2 (electric bugaloo)

Our next stop on our epic road trip was the famous (or infamous if you have ever been a high school student) town of Hannibal, Missouri. Nick, Dina and I had amassed plans to do more adventuring on our way down to the Gathering in Arkansas than Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn ever had. Unfortunately, the weather had other plans and mercilessly rained almost every day of our first two weeks. Initially this did not bother us, particularly while we were in Hannibal. Hannibal is a quaint little Mississippi River town with quaint little people who have quaint little southern accents. It is not too touristy to deter the average traveler, but touristy enough to keep one entertained for a day or two, and the people who live there are as nice as any Midwesterners (nicer than those fake Midwesterners of the Great Lakes region). When people asked us what we could possibly find interesting in a small town like Hannibal my cousin Nick would quickly answer, "We're looking for a guy named Tom Sawyer, have you seen him?", and Dina and I would try our best to nod our heads in agreement without cracking a smile. Most people didn't even bat an eyelash at our Cleveland-style sarcasm, even when Nick announced that Dina's real name was Gretchen Butkhess. One woman who owned a gallery on the main strip (which is actually only about six buildings long) even invited us to camp in her backyard and use her shower, after we told her our harrowing tale of urban camping. We being the now-seasoned survivalists that we were declined her offer, citing vaguely that we could simply pull off to the side of the road and camp in the woods.



The sporadic bursts of rain that day made it nearly impossible for us to do anything outdoors for any amount of time, so we found ourselves running in and out of the shops on the local main strip, meeting the shop owners and talking to locals. By the grace of Mark Twain's ghost, however, the sky eventually cleared up long enough for us to bring out the guitars and play some music on the sidewalk, in an attempt to earn a few extra dollars for gas. The only problem with this scenario was that we seemed to be the only people in Hannibal who didn't actually live there.




We sat on a bench and watched some local youths beat each other up and skateboard around. Dina played some of her super hippie folksongs and we sang along with gusto. Suddenly a very large and very clean looking family approached us, headed by a 'Dad' figure who looked like he was a lot of fun. The motley crew surrounded our bench and listened to Dina finish her song, and then Dad introduced himself and his brood of two children, one niece, one wife, a brother and sister-in-law, and some friends of the kids. Then he asked if he could sit down and play music with us. Dina handed her guitar over and we were soon engaged in an epic John Mayer singalong. We played quite a few songs together, chatted about our mutual travels, and formed the strange sort of kindship that can only be formed when strangers get brave and decide to interact. Eventually we had to part, as all good things must end. We needed to find a place to sleep before nightfall. We said goodbye and thanked one another for the music and laughs shared, and all went on our merry ways.

That night we chose to pull off to the side of the highway and pitch our tent in a turnaround picnic sort of area. There was a rowdy-sounding bar across the highway (it was one of those two-lane county highways in the middle of nowhere) which worried us quite a bit, and a sign that clearly said, 'No Camping', but we were rebels and rules didn't apply to us. Nick, ever-prepared for danger (and man things in general) packed several katanas and a large hunting knife, because he felt he would need them at some point during our stay at a large peace gathering. They came in handy during this night of suspense and terror, however, so Dina and I were emotionally indebted to him for the time being.

So there we were, sleeping on the side of a highway in the tiny, leaking tent (it had started to rain once more), spooning each other and the katana as we listened to rowdy drunks and semi trucks in the world outside of our nylon bubble of safety.

The next morning was grey, rainy, and cold. Three of my least favorite things to wake up to, especially when there is only a thin layer of cloth separating me from it. Nick and Dina, I would come to find, liked to sleep in quite a bit, so this was the first of many mornings in which I was awake long before they were. My only options for filling the time at this point were to sit in the car and watch the rain or brave the rain in order to find a gas station that sold hot coffee. I chose the latter. When I returned with two steaming hot cups I set one aside for my slumbering buddies and since there was no room for me to do anything but spoon them back at the tent I decided to sit in the car and listen to NPR while enjoying my coffee. A couple of hours later Nick and Dina finally stirred. The rain had slowed to a trickle, my clothes had nearly dried, and the coffee was cold. Nevertheless, we pulled ourselves together and pressed on.

At this point of the journey I was beginning to feel a bit like this:



Nick and Dina didn't seem to be doing much better, but from my perspective in that moment I saw them as having some sort of secret bond that kept them going. They were both amazing musicians and artists and had been friends with one another longer than the three of us had been friends as a trio. I felt a twinge of jealousy stirring in my depths and it was only dried out by the sunny afternoon weather that greeted us as we stopped to eat buffalo burgers in some dinky cafe.

Luckily our waitress was knowledgeable about the area and when she discovered we were out of towners she suggested we visit a city called Columbia. She said it was a small college town and we'd probably have luck busking there. She was correct, because several people in Columbia took pity on us and threw bills in our guitar case as we sang our hearts out that day. The rain seemed to be holding off for the most part, although the clouds did not hesitate to threaten us with an ominous darkness every now and then. If I remember correctly we made about $50 that day before the storefront owners kicked us out for attracting street people and amassing a crowd.

The most auspicious part of our visit to Columbia came when we decided to walk around and explore. Dina was singing at the top of her lungs some old Appalachian tune as we strolled down the street, and suddenly the people in front of us turned around and stopped to look at us. By some twist of fate it was the daughter and niece of the family we'd met in Hannibal the day before! They were so excited to see us, and we were so excited to see them, they grabbed our hands and dragged us to a restaurant window front where the rest of the family were eating. We pounded on the window and Dad came running out to greet us with a beaming smile. We couldn't believe our good fortune that day, making enough money for a sleezy motel and seeing our friends from the day before. Things were beginning to look sunny, despite the grey sky...

the adventure begins - flashback to 2007 pt. 1

In the summer of 2007 I was working at a fast food place that served southern-style food and fried chicken (no, it was not based out of Kentucky) and I was preparing to transfer from the two-year college I'd been attending since my legal adulthood to a four-year institution. I had spent those previous two years being absolutely miserable but convincing myself that it was okay because 'some day I would be a famous (or, at least, relatively well-employed) anthropologist', with PhDs and certifications out the wazoo, and a passport full of exotic stamps. In the meantime I had no friends, no social life, no hobbies aside from morosely playing my guitar, and no real clue about who I was.

So with that in mind and neck-deep in chicken gravy and sweet potatoes, I jumped at the opportunity to do some real traveling with a friend and my cousin. I decided to request two weeks off of work; if they weren't given to me I'd simply quit (unheard of!). Our ultimate destination was to be the national Rainbow Gathering ('Nationals'), a giant peace gathering that takes place in a different national forest every summer and lasts about one week. To be honest with you, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had two years of pent-up wanderlust waiting to explode out of my orifices and a serious case of Midwestern duldrum that I couldn't shake. It was time for me to start making sudden and radical life decisions. Thankfully I was given three weeks off of work for this adventure.

The two weeks building up to my departure were a haze of grease and escape fantasies. Finally the time came to leave. My cousin and I spent the night at our radical hippie friend's house. She embodied everything the stereotypical new-age neo-hippie should, and she was the exact opposite of everyone I'd ever met in my painfully monochromatic existence.

The evening before our departure we sat on the front porch playing guitar and singing with bottles of the local micro-brew at our sides. The next morning we ate buckwheat pancakes, drank strong black coffee, and had a drum procession to a ring of trees in the backyard, where the hostess blessed us with a sage smudging stick. It was like something out of one of those epic fantasy novels, where the wizard kidnaps the humans and shows them the world of the unseen and they are so entranced by all of the magic and novelty they just go along with it all. I was entranced, and ready to leave the world I knew behind.



For the first few hours of our journey there was nothing but the open road, Jimi Hendrix, and our silent reverie. Eventually, however, we realized that none of us had very much money or were very good at planning ahead, so when night fell on that first day we scrambled to think of places we could sleep for the night. We had a tent, but we did not want to pay for a campground. Eventually we found ourselves driving around St. Louis, Missouri, with no idea where we were going to go for the night. It was late, probably close to midnight. We seemed to be in a shady part of town. Suddenly my limited knowledge of the world re-surfaced and I piped up.

"You know, I heard in my comparative religion class that Catholic monasteries will let you stay on the grounds if you do a work-exchange. We should look for a monastery."

Miraculously, my two compatriots thought this was an ingenous idea. Coincidentally, a few minutes later we passed what appeared to be a huge religious institution, a Catholic boys boarding school about half an hour outside of St. Louis. We rolled into the parking lot and surveyed the abandoned property from the vehicle. Thunder was beginning to threaten us from not far off. We got out and circumambulated the main building. Nobody seemed to be home. Lightning struck close enough to raise the hairs on our arms, and with a clap of thunder the rain began to pour down.

"Let's just set the tent up under this awning," my friend suggested, pointing to the main entrance of what appeared to be the gymnasium of the boys school.

We quickly set the old, leaky tent up on the concrete slab, safely under the entranceway, and climbed inside. This was the first time the three of us had all been in the tent together at once. Although the manufacturers claimed the tent was suitable for three adults, I became most certain on that night that they must have tested this estimate with the three small children who worked dilligently to assemble the tent over in Singapore. We three average-sized adults got to know each other much better that night, and if I didn't choke on my friend's long, witchy hair while inadvertently spooning her it was a miracle. It didn't phase us much that the rain was leaking into the old, worn tent and pooling around its edges, slowly soaking the one sleeping bag we had to share, because we were finally free. Yes, technically we were still in the Midwest by most cartographic standards, but we had entered into a whole new world where time was irrelevent and the rest of human existence was merely a shadow against the image of the newly discovered great West.



The next morning the sun was shining and everything was steamy. We were awakened by the sound of someone fussing outside of our tent. My friend Dina was the one who chalked up enough guts to poke her head out of the tent flap to see who it was. She slowly pulled her head back in after a few seconds and zipped the flap.

"It was the janitor. He just looked at me and kept going."

We could hear the sound of adolescent boys yelling from somewhere nearby so we decided not to try our luck any further. We quickly packed up the tent, still soaked from the night's unrelenting rainstorm, and sped out of the parking lot. As we left I noted about a hundred vehicles, which had appeared while we slept, and a variety of people milling about, some in basketball uniforms. It looked like we were leaving just in time.

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Stay tuned for the next installment of flashback 2007 to read all about the Gathering, my first taste of falafel, and how I got dysentary!