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Comments

1. My blog:

   http://www.livejournal.com/users/milovianxor/

   Thanks guys!

   Roxy

   Comment by Raku — 20 September 2005 @ 5:19 PM

2. The trip to west virginia was amazing, and very timely at that, being around the time of the full moon. There is certainly something incredible about watching the moon rise from behind a mountain top.
   I know I wont forget this trip, and in fact when I close my eyes I can see the view from the top of Seneca Rocks, looking down into the valley below and seeing the green tent from our campsite and the campsites surrounding us that we were “bothering” with the drumming. No, strike that, I don’t have to close my eyes, because I can see it when my eyes are open as well.

   One day it wont take a trip to see something so incredible. One day it will be there right in front of us, always. I for one plan to remain in a state of constant amazement.

   Roxy!! Very glad you managed to get back to new york alright, despite my navigating. =)

   Comment by Miranda — 20 September 2005 @ 6:04 PM

3. 17 September 2005 is the official birthday of the Appalachian Confederation. I think we laid the foundation for the Confederation’s first festival this weekend. I picked the location to be pregnant with myth and history.

   This was an important area for the Seneca, and thus for the Iroquois Confederacy. That made it an incredibly good location for the birth of the Appalachian Confederation. A village at the bottom of the mountain was only seasonally occupied, as the Seneca never really “lived” this far south, they just used it for summer hunting grounds. Like our own festival, they would come at specific times beneath the imposing edifice.

   The legends of Chief Bald Eagle remind me of the legends of King Arthur. Is it a whole “Matter of Seneca”? The central figure always seems somewhat peripheral–just as Arthur is somewhat peripheral to the Matter of Britain, and Charlemange is somewhat peripheral to the Matter of France. In both cases, the legendary cycle was meant as an inspiration to resist invasion–whether to inspire Franks to resist the Moors, or Britons to resist the English. I’ve so far found only one historical reference to Chief Bald Eagle, from West Virginia county histories (Mingo and Kanawha):

   In 1772, a series of incidents between settlers and Indians in West Virginia ended what had been nearly eight years of peace. During the spring of that year, several Indians were murdered on the South Branch of the Potomac River by Nicholas Harpold and his companions. About the same time, Bald Eagle, an Indian chief of some notoriety, was murdered while on a hunting trip on the Monongahela River.

   The parallels to King Arthur just seem stronger. If Chief Bald Eagle’s death was the reason for a bout of hostility, then we might look to parallels such as Peter of Castelnau–historically, a prick of the highest order, but in death beatified as the excuse for the genocidal Albigensian Crusade. If that’s the case, why wouldn’t we expect a legendary cycle around Bald Eagle, a la King Arthur? With my interest in the “historical King Arthur,” and its application to the Appalachian Confederation (as discussed in the article linked above), then Seneca Rocks–the center of our own “Matter of Seneca”–was perfect.

   So, here’s two legends about Chief Bald Eagle and his entourage. The first, the story of “How Bald Eagle Sent Mud-Turtle to the Edge of the World.”

   Once upon a time, a bald-headed old man lived on the top of a mountain, and his wife and three children lived near a lake about half way to the summit of the same mountain.

   Each day the old man went down to fish in the lake. On his way home he stopped and gave some of the fish to his wife, and thus they lived well and happily. After they had passed many years in this manner, the old man became curious to know how large the world is.

   Being chief of his people he called a council, and said, “I want to know how large the world is. I wish some man would volunteer to find out.”

   One young man said, “I will go and find out.”

   “Very well,” said the chief, “How long will you be gone?”

   “I can’t tell, for I don’t know how far I shall have to travel.”

   “Go,” said the chief, “And when you return you will tell us about your journey.”

   The young man started and after traveling two moons he came to a country where everything was white–the forests, the water, the grass. It hurt his feet to walk on the white ground, so he hurried back. When he reached home he notified the chief.

   The chief said, “I don’t believe that he has been to the end of the world, but I will call a council and we will hear what he has to say.”

   When the people were assembled, the young man said: “I did not go very far, but I went as far as I was able.” And he told all he knew of the White Country.

   The chief said, “We must send another man.”

   They sent a second man. He was gone four moons and returned. The chief called a council, and then asked: “Did you go to the end of the world?”

   “No,” said the man, “but I went as far as I was able to go. Everything was as it is here till I came to the White Country. I traveled two moons in the White Country and could go no farther. I could not have lived had I continued my journey.”

   The chief sent a third man. He traveled farther than the second man, then came back and related that there were people who lived in white houses and dressed in fur.

   The chief was encouraged and he sent a fourth man. As the man traveled he noticed everything. He crossed white rivers and white lakes and was gone eight moons.

   On his return, he said, “I came back quicker than I went, for I came a shorter way and reached the green land sooner than I would if I had come on the trail by which I went.”

   The chief sent a fifth man. He crossed the White Country and beyond that he found a place where there was nothing but rocks. He climbed very high then went down, and so he went up and down till he wore his moccasins off. He was gone ten moons and came back.

   At the council called by the chief the man said, “I passed over the White Country, crossed rocky places, and then came straight home. It cannot be very far across the world.”

   “How did you know the way home?” asked the old man.

   ”As I went I noticed the trees. The tops of the hemlocks leaned toward the East and our home is in that direction, so I followed the bend of the hemlocks.”

   The bald-headed chief was learning something all the time.

   Many men were sent, one after another, and each turned with a story a little different from that told by others, but still no one satisfied the chief. At last a man said, “I will start and I will go to the end of the world before I come back.”

   The chief looked at the man and saw that he was very homely, but very strong, and he said, “I think you will do as you promise. You may go.”

   The chief called a council of the whole nation and each man agreed to make a journey by himself, and then come home and describe all he had seen. The chief and his men went and were gone forty moons. When they came home a council was held and each told what he had seen.

   When the man came who had promised to go to the end of the world, he said, “I have been to the end of the world, I have seen all kinds of people, all kinds of game, all kinds of forests and rivers. I have seen things which no one else has ever seen.”

   The chief was satisfied, he said, “I am chief of all the people, you will be next to me. You’ll be second chief.”

   This was the pay the man got for his journey. He took his position as second chief.

   The old chief was Bald Eagle. The first man sent out was Deer. His feet were tender, he could not endure the ice and snow of the White Country. The homely man who went to the end of the world was Mud-turtle.

   There wasn’t always a gap in the middle of the mountain. That was once filled in with a giant structure called “the Maid of the Mountain.” I’m fairly certain that’s tied to the story of Chief Bald Eagle’s daughter, Princess Snow Bird:

   The only daughter of chief Bald Eagle and his wife, White Rock, was Snow Bird. As a young girl, she played at the base of Seneca Rocks, often gazing at their topmost peaks and longing to be able to climb to the tallest of them. As a young woman, she became the most beautiful of all the maidens of the Senecas. Her rank and beauty brought many men from her tribe and neighboring tribes courting her. The rivalry caused her to face the serious problem of choosing a mate.

   When the day arrived to choose a mate, seven young warriors, all suitors for the hand of the Seneca princess, assembled in an open space and arranged themselves in a semi-circle facing the mighty rocks. The faint-hearted had dropped from the contest, not daring to face the ordeal to which they were sure they would be subjected. Silence reigned on all sides. This rush of expectancy was on all until the beautiful Princess Snow Bird clad in the royal garb of her tribe, moved swiftly and gracefully into the circle and faced her lovers. She lifted her hand and silence fell upon the assembled.

   “Ever since I was a little girl, I have watched yonder rocks push their rugged summits into the heavens and many times I have longed to be able to climb to their topmost crags. There have I spent the happiest, the most enjoyable days of my life. Of all the Seneca Indians, I am the only one who has accomplished the feat. One day, about a moon past, I decided upon a contest, a trial of bravery and endurance. You will soon engage in this contest, and to the successful one of you, I will give my hand, my heart and my life.�

   Princess Snow Bird set out on the journey, followed by the seven braves. Upward they climbed, the sure-footed maiden always leading. As the climb became more and more difficult, three of the seven turned back, dispirited and disappointed. Another followed to the fifth pinnacle and then wearied of the struggle and gave up. A fifth man crumpled in a heap near the same pinnacle and was rescued from death by the fourth, who led him back to safety. The two that remained followed closely in the footsteps of the maiden.

   Finally, with renewed determination, they set out on the last and most dangerous stretch of the journey, the maiden as always, in the lead. At last she reached the summit and turned to look for her most persistent suitor. He was only a few feet below her. In this moment of waiting, his foot slipped on the ledge of rock. The maiden hesitated for a fraction of a second. Was he not the bravest and strongest of the Senecas? Where would she ever find his equal? So with the alertness and strength of her young arms, she caught the falling brave and drew him to safety and to herself.

   Long they sat together talking of their future, and then as darkness approached, the two lovers descended by the trail at the rear of the gigantic rocks. They stood before Chief Bald Eagle and White Rock. The great chief conferred upon his newfound son-in-law the authority to become his successor as chief of the tribe.

   On Saturday, we scaled Seneca Rocks–the mountain Snow Bird climbed. On Sunday, we visited Seneca Caverns–where Chief Bald Eagle held his council meetings, and where Snow Bird was married. Between the two, the Appalachian Confederation was founded, nestled between the myth and history of the Seneca and the Haudenosaunee our Confederation looks to for guidance and inspiration.

   Comment by Jason Godesky — 20 September 2005 @ 11:13 PM

4. Yesterday afternoon, I logged on to Ishcon and started going through all of the conversations that I had missed over the weekend. Mostly, it was just more of the same and nothing particularly leaped out at me… until I read the following (from Arkface):

   “Tamarack Song recently wrote this & I thought it would be well worth posting here:

   Someone recently asked, “How long does it take from knowing nothing about the wilderness to going off and living in it, and when do you know when you are ready? I basically just have a few books I haven’t started reading about it.”

   This is a profound question, and I see it is the main theme in various group discussions lately. Not a day goes by that someone does not ask me the same thing, or else a related question, such as, “What are the top skills I need to know?” “Learning the Old Ways should be free, like it used to be; why do I have to pay money?” “Where can I find an elder to teach me?” “Is it even possible anymore, with all the hunting and fishing regulations?” “All the land is private or restricted, and I can’t afford to buy any, is there anywhere can I go to live primitively?” “I want to learn on my own, what
   steps should I take?”

   I’m going to give you all some straight talk, in hopes that it will help to steer you on to a track might get you somewhere. The reality of the situation is that I have not met, or heard of, a single person in the past 40 years who has used the approaches that we have been talking about, who
   has been able to return to primitive living. This includes the authors of the popular books. Yeah, they might talk a good talk, but look at what they’ve actually done — a month in the mountains, a solo year in the woods, some time in Alaska — is that really living the Old Way? Where is the
   clan? Where are the elders? The children? Where is the example and clan memories to learn from?

   Why didn’t it work for them, and why won’t it work for you? Because they carried civilization with them into the wilderness, and you likely will as well. You can learn all the skills you want, and The Mother will spit you back out just about as fast as you went in. The more stubborn individuals
   will last a few months or maybe a year, but rest assured, they’ll be back.

   Why? Because they didn’t do their work. We come from a technological society, so we naturally think that substituting primitive technology for civilized technology is our doorway. The only problem is that Native people are not into technology. They spend only a couple hours a day providing for
   their simple needs, and they mostly use simple means. Look at their tools — few and crude, and their craftwork — basic and utilitarian. What a Native person excels at is what I call qualitative skills — how to sit in a circle with your clan mates and speak your truth, how to find your special
   talent so that you can develop it to serve your people, how to use your intuition, the ways of honor and respect, how to live in balance with elders and women and children, how to speak in the language beyond words, how to befriend fear and live love. Without these skills, you will surely die. Or
   else you’ll go back to the life that shuns these skills.

   Will a book teach you these qualitative skills? Will a class or a workshop? Is learning firemaking or edible plants going to give them to you? They actually take you further away from what you need to know, because focusing on them reinforces the technological approach, and that 95% of your brain
   which you don’t use, shrivels up even more. We become what we surround ourselves with; the way to learn Truthspeaking is to share with other truthspeakers, the way to bring life back to our dormant brain is to immerse ourselves in the full spectrum of life in which our brain evolved, the way
   to elder wisdom is to be with wise elders. There are patterns to break — crippling, blinding patterns that take continual, unrelenting attention if we are ever going to see, hear, smell, and feel as fully as we are intended. That takes guidance, a supportive environment, and example. Otherwise, it’s just another exercise, another class, another walk in the woods, and then
   it’s back to life as usual, with no end in sight.

   Roughly 80% of what a Native person eats is not affected by hunting and fishing regulations. There are vast tracts of public and unregulated private land that are available to a hunter-gatherer, with virtually no human competition. If you think there are a lot of people at your favorite
   state park or national forest just step a few paces off the trail, and they all disappear. Very few people really go “out” in the woods anymore. I know a dozen ways to live legally on or adjacent to foraging lands without having to pay big bucks. I can grow fat by living primitively in a farmer’s
   woodlot or city park. It doesn’t take Alaska or the Grand Tetons. It takes shaking off the old preconceptions of what primitive living is and rebecoming the Native person you already are.

   It simply can’t be done alone. We evolved as social beings, and we literally start going crazy when we spend too much time without company of our fellow creatures. Learning skills alone, buying land alone, is feeding a pipe dream, a romantic fantasy, that will likely only lead to frustration
   and disillusionment. Virtually everyone I know who has tried it for any period of time, has given up and bought back into the system. Try to look up some of the older people who once had dreams as you do now. You’ll see — they now have mortgages and jobs with benefits they can’t let go of, and
   kids’ educations they have to worry about. Yeah, they might still be talking about their dreams, and they might practice their skills and head out in the woods now and then, but realistically, when is that dream ever going to become reality?

   And then there’s the cost of your rewilding. Yes, I said cost, because nothing is free. Money is the least of what you are going to be asked to give. There is a world of difference between something for free and something that is freely given. On a stay with one of my elders in Canada, I built her a cabin. 15 years ago another elder asked me to literally lay my life on the line for him. I would gladly give my last dollar, and much more, for the privilege of walking in my ancestor’s footsteps.

   The alternative? Sit in the city, whining about how things used to be and ought to be. Or look at the cost of NOT rewilding, and come to realize that one has to give before they can receive. Then you’ll be ready to throw away your books, turn your back on the “experts,” and turn your face to the wind. You’ll start hearing voices that help you walk rather than give you sweet talk. There waiting to greet you will be your clan, your teachers, and your real self. You’ll leave survival behind and walk into the Beauty Way.

   Tamarack”

   It occurs to me, that these gatherings we have, whether primitive/camping or intellectual/Conference Center are giving us the opportunity to learn exactly these skills: the skills of community and cooperation and building a culture, itself. And that is more awesome than words.

   Comment by Janene — 21 September 2005 @ 12:01 PM

5. I happened to have dinner last night with none other than Mark Meritt, who was in town for work. As I was telling him all about the weekend, it occurred to me that I could not recall even a single time I heard someone bring up the name Daniel Quinn. I thought that was pretty cool - it means we’re really moving beyond. Even during some of our discussions, I really felt like the concepts have moved so far beyond what Quinn’s works originally presented.

   Roxy

   Comment by Raku — 21 September 2005 @ 3:24 PM

6. Hey, folks - please sit back and find a nice private time to reminisce… This is gonna be rather long.

   These are some of the pictures I took….

   —–

   I haven’t had quite the lightning bolt of thought this go-around, though there was plenty that was brilliant and new. I was much less prepared - prepared myself, that is. My time leading into the event was pressed with work and solar obligations, while simultaneously trying to figure what others would need, how to get them & stuff there. And sure, with folks fluctuating in and out, back and gone - those last few days - my heart turned over and again. Then there was the drive, broken into two days, demanding constant attention…

   I didn’t have the time I’d like, to think and reflect about this time I’d have to share with everyone. I didn’t consciously prepare to shed the intervening months of creeping unfamiliarity and misunderstanding - that inevitably builds between our network nodes over time & distance. Thus, I wasn’t able to fully open myself to the energy of everyone, to fully penetrate my own judgments and fears, to live as honestly and in the moment as I am capable of - and see what new things I could learn about myself. Or “challenge” myself. I habitually grabbed for the alcohol and cigarettes and pot to keep from getting overwhelmed, I think. A grounding habit of the familiar, while I let the tide of the moment engulf me.

   —–

   For the folks that had to split off early, here’s a bit of a crazily divergent rundown, from my perspective:

   The Last Lunch - cut short. Ben, Miranda and Roxy finally left the restaurant, take-out in tow. Well, really, we had to kick them out as their denial and tension was too much for us to bear. Get on the road you fools, I thought - or we’ll never be able to stop worrying about you!

   They very nearly got tangled in a multi-car collision in the mountains. Ben’s unclouded and lightning reaction time was the difference that spared them. Additionally, when Tony, Kat & I finally cleared out and made for Pennsylvania, we came across a truck cab laying sideways, pressed up against a mangled guardrail - it’s trailer tossed over side, nowhere to be seen.

   This leads me to thinking - the most dangerous component of these gatherings is our hurried travel back and forth - desperately trying to squeeze in a bit more life before we return to “making our dying” - and it’s systemic rules and confinement and obedience. Unlocking your life spent toiling at someone else’s pyramid - it returns some of your time, freeing up better, healthier choices.

   Think about how a true tribal gathering might coalesce - tribes mostly free of the pace and constraints of civilization. it might take days and weeks for all to make their way to any given site. Things would begin when they are ready to begin, and everything/everyone required is in place - not forced or crammed onto a particular day, when “it must happen”. Not the frenetic pace we are currently trapped into working around.

   —–

   But I digress…

   Back in the restaurant, that shit-eating grin on my face that I could not contain - that was me imagining Roxy finding my little note I secretly squirreled in her backpack. I figured Ben kept his car unlocked… and sure enough… I was going for a more delayed “fuse”, thinking of a place she wouldn’t find ’till home. But I was pressed for time, and took the quickest opportunity at hand. Under the full stress of their increasingly futile run for Roxy’s flight, she reached into her glasses to better read the maps and road signs, and found my little note of thanks and encouragement. The stress melted away, and it all worked out fine in the end…

   I’ve got a thing for sneakily stashing notes - just ask Kath, or Jason & Giuli…

   —–

   Ben, the more time I spend with you, the more my respect builds. You fed me well, without hesitation, my mind and body. Since I require giving you my full attention to catch all your speech and ideas and insights (and even then, I fail) I hope you don’t feel I’m semi-retarded when I have to continually ask for the words I simply missed…. Or I can literally be left behind.

   Miranda, you were the new one among us this time - and I don’t quite know how to gage your reaction. We all have sorted out many of our initial curiosities about each other over the years, and have grown to develop a true sense of familiarity and trust, if not deeper levels of understanding. I feel you were simply absorbing it all, us all, all your own feelings, and trying to find a fit, and peace - like dangling your feet in the pond (not necessarily ready to plunge into a whole new situation). I regret not engaging you as much as I could have, but also I feel it was as it was meant to be, this time…

   Roxy, what more can I say? You know you are my soul sister. If I hadn’t pried Kath away from her fiancé over a decade ago - and grown to love her so deeply and completely - I’d be chipping away for you.

   —–

   The cool thing about writing this out - is I am finally “committing” people’s names by adding them to my spell check dictionary…. “Yes, you silly fucking piece of MicroSchlock, you had better make room for “Godesky” in your databank. You have asked me for the last time.” The rhizome spreads…

   —–

   We now headed down into the depths of the caverns now, after climbing to the summit of the Seneca rocks the day before. We plumbed the entire elevation of this beautiful land, and made our visit complete. Waiting outside the cave for a tour, we messed with the rock washing sluice-way, damming and releasing the flow of water - accumulated a storm surge that burst the banks at the bottom of the run. The cave was magnificent, peaceful, cool and silent. Ancient, stable and reassuring. Though our guide was a bit “challenged” - I didn’t care. I was intrigued with imagining the bricked in Indian burial area within the cave. This cave had some very active areas, growing over and inch in 200 years, and there was evidence of the flowing rock already encroaching on the gravel walkway. I just could help but imagine if the burial area was similarly active… Imagine the rock slowly enveloping and reclaiming sacred, skeletal remains, thousand of years old - what a site to imagine….

   We exited the cave and relaxed on the hillside, and took in another view of this mountainous valley. Delaying the inevitable…

   Back on the campground, Jason & Giuli, Steve and Devin broke down their setups, hauled them to the car and began to pack. The rest of us remaining casually straightened up remainder of the site. From a bout 20 yards away, I saw J&G comparing a spare pole from Janene for their wind-mangled canopy, but frowning as it was the wrong diameter. Later I walked up, asked to see the poles, and showed ‘em to flip it over to match with theirs, and then pinch the other end with some pliers and voila! Jason was like “awesome”. This is just the tip of what I have accumulated and practiced for my whole life. I was glad to be able to demonstrate a bit, as sometimes I feel like most of what I have to offer is sort of sitting dormant until we start actually building some shit…

   Devin was slow-dragging and stalling - everyone else set to depart was cleared and packed, yet his tent was still up. Finally, as we lined up and said our goodbyes, and I hugged Jason and shook his hand, blurting something like: “Great to be with you, and all that you’re doing, big man”. Oh, shit! the double - perhaps triple - entendre… A-tari!

   —–

   Steve, you strike me as genuine, playful, and keenly aware., with skills and passions that are beyond me. I look forward to re-reading your posts, as their tone is already making much more sense to me, just by meeting him you. And in particular, meeting you in such an intimate, uninhibited state of being… And I am glad to see that Anthropik has a strong, independent person to balance and counterbalance, as appropriate.

   Devin, you are perhaps the most strong, intelligent, empathic and self-actualized person I know your age. For what you have had to endure, to reject, to turn away from - combined with all that you already know - I cannot imagine where your life will take you. I think this coming year will be a break-out year for you, and lead you to find that someone who is both your equal, and your complement.

   Giuli, I am proud to see you moving forward through your fears to work toward what you feel you need. It is a joy to see you grow and gain confidence and familiarity with yourself; with others. And what you and Jason share together, I feel is both life saving and life giving.

   Jason, I cannot believe how much you have matured - how much you developed in your confidence and self worth. I’m not talking about the bravado and hyperbole you are eminently capable of (and can use to hide behind) - but a genuine, heart sprung transformation into the positive. Giuli is, in my estimation, is both an elemental and symbiotic partner in this. You have my support for wherever your incredible mind leads you - in whatever capacity I can muster. My only caution: your powers of logic and analysis may not serve you well when it comes to matters of the heart and emotion… and I imagine such issues must be dealt with, in your shamanistic pursuits…

   —–

   That left Nene, Jim, Ian & Goldie, Me & Kath, and Tony. We cooked an excellent meal from all of our leftover stocks, and held the site for one more night. The entire park was nearly empty; peaceful. I lead another moonwalk with Tony & Jim. And later with Kath. They are wonderful; I must thank Katie!

   In fact, moon walks are a both energizing and a release. Instead of zoning out, staring blankly at the fire TV - the moon walks tickles and treats your senses: sight, smell, sound, touch, even taste. Your body is a tremendous and subtle receiver, and thrives in this environment - without all the oppressive background noise of civilization to repress, filter or ignore. Put one on your must-do list, folks…

   —–

   Janene, my respect and awe for you continues to expand. I love how joyously you have embraced your diversity of approach, talents, skills and knowledge. You are a powerful ally, and I feel more secure knowing you are close to us.

   Jim, it is a pleasure to get to know you, without the benefit of all the written words to help me along, as shared with others the forums.

   Ian, I was glad to see you loosen up in the later days of our time together, to find some trust and shed some of your cartoon-learned mannerisms. I imagine it is can confusing to be among us, but I feel you’re going to grow into a confident, balanced adult with much to contribute. I was totally clicking with you in our drum jams, perhaps more than with anyone else. You’ve come so far, so quickly.

   Goldie, you’ll make a dog lover out of me yet!

   —–

   As the DeKalb clan packed up an headed out Sunday morning; Tony, Kat & I and packed up the remainder of the site. I hesitantly took one final lap of the grounds; exactly empty of our presence. Thanking the monarch butterfly that greeted us that Friday (so long ago), we turned away and moved through the mountains to PA and more caverns just outside Ohiopyle State park. We caught a last minute tour, just the three of us and the manager of this large, privately held cave.

   She had been exploring the cave for since her teens (for 20/30 some years, I’d guess). As you can imagine, we could ask all sorts of questions, and catch and insider’s enthusiasm and knowledge. The cave featured completely different geology, mostly fractured limestone carved out by water, and practically zero stalactites. Convinced by our sincerity and curiosity, she described or showed us some “special stuff” - like a new, virgin dig site - and were some of the first folks to see a chunk of earth that has remained hidden and unmolested for over 125 million years. Where are you gonna find that in, say, Manhattan? My heart aches to consider how damn much of our home we’ve manipulated and bent to our preference and control…

   —–

   We camped at a nearby park one last night, warm and snuggled among the trees, enjoying the moderating benefits at a lower elevation. There were lots more animals around us here - raccoons, cats, walking sticks, chipmunks, etc. - all checking us out and our campsite. There was a fun moment upon us registering - wild looking Tony and his car full of Maine, me and the clanivan from Illinois - unblinkingly assuring the armed ranger that no, “we got no alcohol”. Never mind the pot and mushrooms…

   Then this morning, after a final breakfast with Tony, he headed for southern Indianapolis to his mom’s - and ultimately back within Sarah’s embrace.

   Tony, mature and wise well beyond your years, you’ve taught me plenty already. And still you’re breaking down more doors and barriers for all of us to benefit from. I don’t know if I’ve met a such an intelligent, positive, caring person that compares.

   —–

   Kath and then made a quick visit to Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterwork Falling Water - and it felt warm and comfortable to be back here again. There is something about being in the spaces that he created - human scale and in harmony, not in competition with the land. I spent the entire tour dreaming about an ultimate mountain gathering of tribes in this amazing site and structure. Fully integrated with each other, fully integrated with the land. It would be magnificent! Kath spotted a particular plant sprouting from the hand cut stone - and declared: “rocks and laurel”…

   We took one last breath, downstream of the waterfall, and turned for home.

   —–

   Other thoughts:

   Roxy wrote me an email, and it was uncanny. I said to myself that I could have practically written the same letter to her. Like exactly. Like, just take the names and switch around the names to fit. I was a bit surprised to confirm how much we communicated without really having the chance to “communicate” directly. My gosh…

   —–

   I got a nice steady dose of the “revitalizing buzz” - (not my killer bee sting, but) that release of tension and dropping of defenses required for survival in civilization. My body felt solid and pain free. As I’ve aged, I’ve had to become much more deliberate in how I apply my body to work, sport and play. Limitations have crept up, no doubt accelerated by my self abuse, but I can still do just about everything I wish to. Nothing made me happier that coming across Steve and Devin at the bottom of the mountain, completely, carelessly flowing “in the zone”. I was bale to re-experience the spontaneity I’ve mostly lost access to, through them.

   —–

   Theme for the weekend: We all shared what we each had to give - for what we each needed. And it dovetailed seamlessly and effortlessly. Trading support in the tribal economy…

   —–

   I wished we had more space to naturally flow and reform into smaller groups, following our interests, like our time on the rocks. The campsite was beautiful, but confining (especially as surrounded by the other groups). We were all essentially packed together, all the time.

   I wished we could have created the environment to sing. Like jam sessions fostered at IC. I had some lyrics I was willing to stumble through, and even one I made up to compliment the following:

   [b]Weezer - Peace (from: Make Believe)[/b]

   [i]More and more I can’t say no,
   So afraid of letting go.
   If there’s something I can grab,
   You can bet - I’ll pay the tab.

   Counting all the flowers,
   waste the precious hours,
   I need to find some peace.

   All these problems on my mind,
   make it hard for me to think.
   There is no way I can stop,
   my poor brain - is gonna pop.

   And I don’t have a purpose
   scattered on the surface,
   I need to find some peace.

   And all the broken tethers,
   we can bring together,
   I need to find some peace.

   I need to find some peace.

   (additional JC lyric)

   Wrote down a thousand thoughts, at IshCon
   I found some truth, but the same questions.
   Fueled up the van, a ninety dollar hit
   To track the hills - for Anthropik!

   Shedding pseudo pathos
   Trusting faith in chaos
   I need diversity.[/i]

   —–

   It was really cool when our drum circle pulled together and synced up as the crowds gathered. The drummers sure can drum up attention! (and possibly new people/ideas).

   This also made me think of how oblivious we were at our campsite - oblivious to all going on around us. Imagine if the folks that engulfed us were hostile? We would have been slaughtered. Similarly, with the golf cart cop - we could have been much more tuned in and aware to it’s circling, and it’s mission to shut us down and pass judgment on us. We basically were in that weird civilized mindset of: ignoring others right around us, trusting instead our cultural conventions to set the rules of interaction and engagement, and habitually depending on the “state” to “protect” us….

   Stalking and fox walking with Rox - useful skills and fun play! And moonwalks!

   —–

   Finally, one last comment. During the “constitutional convention” talks - I found myself curiously, uncontrollably shaking. Cold and convulsing, my body was making me get up and move about for warmth. It’s weird, because I very much wished to participate and hear all to be said - but my body was saying “no, not now…”.

   It’s rather like how I’ve been getting most of my news lately - not directly, but digested and presented by other sources and folks I’ve come to trust. (All the Katrina news, for example - I didn’t see any TV footage until just last Thursday…) I didn’t feel bad about it - just that I’d have to wait to speak with others “after the fact” to form my own understanding and opinion. And wait to read the meeting minutes, so to speak.

   In the meantime, I was content to clean up about the site, literally tending to our trash, while great minds met….

   I have no idea what this means, but I am at peace with it.

   —-

   Indeed, I feel I’m in a wonderful place, now, spelling out some of my thoughts and observations - sharing with y’all. Hopefully bringing you back into the moment for a little while…

   —–

   Bring on the photographs!

   -Jim

   Comment by JCamasto — 23 September 2005 @ 7:45 PM

7. Silly me!

   Kath, I love you. In more ways than I can describe.

   -Jim

   Comment by JCamasto — 23 September 2005 @ 7:53 PM

8. Ha!

   I should have written days ago. A week ago. Gods, has it really been a week? (No Steve, it’s been longer).

   I’ve been up late working and reading Jim’s post. It sent a new burst of energy through me. I want to dance about and beat on my bongoes until my whole building wakes up and comes to play with me. Ha!

   How can I describe Anthropikon? This was my first honest-to-goodness gathering of this sort. So long after I feel like trying to describe a dream–

   Everything back in this civilized place is competition and hierarchy. Socially, economically, I cannot escape it.

   But there. There I felt more fully myself than I have in so long.

   I must share this story.

   On Saturday we did the mountain hike. Apart from the trail I saw a rock and climbed it, climbing being one of life’s great joys for me. Devin climbed after me. We continued to climb, up rock after rock. I started running, or Devin did, either way we ran all the way after that, up and up and up, climbing over rocks and trees and brambles until we couldn’t run anymore–

   Every single step of the way I shed a little more of my poisonous skin. Toxins of the brain. I hadn’t even known they had accumulated but–eventually we broke through the tree line. There was a great precipice and we stood out with the sun and the wind (like a happy dog nipping at our heals just begging us to jump out and play with him) and the hawk or vulture circling and Goddam, I cannot tell you Devin’s mind but right then I screamed and screamed, and I was screaming “Ha! I am a human! I am me! I am alive upon the mountain! I am the mountain and the mountain laughs in me! I am the sun, ho ho ho watch me light the whole earth! Watch me draw circles for this hawk to follow, ha! Ha!”

   Everything was real. Everything was now. Devin pointed up the mountain to its top and said “let’s go there.” So goddam it we did. When I thought I might falter from weariness or the terrifying height Devin pressed on and because he did I followed–but not to compete, but for the selfish-selfless joy of climbing up the mountain with him. We passed climbers along the way, with ropes and helmets and powerbars and energy drinks, goddam it all we needed to climb was our good legs and arms, and birch twigs to munch on and sassafras to eat. When we got back down we jumped into the river at the bottom and played like wild creatures. Devin caught a fish with his hands. The river laughed and the mountain laughed and I ate all the plants growing along the bank.

   Later I ran into Jason. He had earlier talked about sassafras tea but we couldn’t find any down below. I ran up to him and pulled out all the sassafras root I had stowed in my pockets. He laughed and pulled out all the sassafras root he had stowed in his pockets. The tea was delicious. Tony supposed it mind be mildly psychoactive. This is possible. On the way home I several times experienced a brief jolt of the bended logic of the hallucinogen, but with no full-spectrum effects or lasting repurcussions.

   I’m struggling for words to explain how I felt at that place with all of you (you who were there). Jim I love that you wrote all of that here. You’re a man and so am I and so were roughly 60% of us. We’re not supposed to tell each other “feelings” or admit that we have them. I love that you have done so.

   Ai, gods, what can I say? Ha! I have just stumbled upon an irony. The buzzwords of today’s presidency are “freedom” and “security.” Well those are the two things I experienced there. Actual freedom and actual security, safety, a safe place to be free and a free place to be safe, and the “place” is the creation of the people. I hate that I can already feel it ebbing. It’s so strange to be here again. I’m thinking of the protest this weekend. There were 200,000 people there who claim to be “of like mind” and it was nothing, nothing at all compared to what we did with 13.

   I felt like myself, there with all of you. All of you, “all of you.” I’m afraid to do what Jim has done and address all of you individuals, so publicly. You all deserve it and I greatly want to. I don’t think I have the courage right now. I’m sorry. I must at least say that I gained a lot from being around each of you great human people.

   Home again, home again. The morning I returned I got a severe reprimand at work. I did not care, not even a little, which was the most shocking part of all to my boss. “What were you smoking this weekend? You’re way too relaxed about all this.” How to explain it in a way she could understand? No way, I didn’t. She is not even a human. She is a mannikin; all of them are mannikins. Their words are preprogrammed, their interactions are fake…competition and domination, domination and competition. Everyone here and every thing. Jim, reading your post (just a minute ago!) refreshed me and brought me back into that good place without competition or domination, thank you so much for it.

   I could go on longer, and probably will in the near-later. Right now I’m getting a very angry Instant Message from one of my 90 bosses. (Yes, at 1am, to my profound delight). Editor snidely demands revisions he never requested, blah blah I’d better get to work. So I guess it’s off to the writing desk. (Actually, that’s this desk, and I’m writing right now, so it’s off to do the same thing I’m doing only something else.)

   I should end this with a closing thought. I don’t know what it is except a profound and sincere thank you to every single person who was there at Anthropikon. The entire world is brighter again thanks to you.

   Comment by Steve Thomas — 27 September 2005 @ 1:16 AM

9. Thanks for the props, Steve. But it’s really just one of those “can’t-not do” things for me…

   —–

   I’d love to hear more reflections, if folks have them to give… Whatever’s spinning around in people’s minds…

   And pictures…

   -Jim

   Comment by JCamasto — 27 September 2005 @ 1:55 PM

10. Photos are up.

    Thanks to Jim and Janene (Janene’s Jim) for the photography!

    Comment by Jason Godesky — 11 October 2005 @ 9:01 PM

11. More about Tamarack Song at As The Teaching Drum Turns dot blogspot dot com!

    Comment by dragonessa — 8 January 2006 @ 7:57 PM

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