As a student of Qabala, I avoid putting myself in containers and boxes of culture, nationalism, religion, politics, ideology, etc.
And yet I am an American. And I am a patriotic American in the spirit of Woody Guthrie - for this land is my land, this land is your land, this land was made for you and me.
And therefore I am of the Rainbow Family of Eternal Light.
I did not attend a national - the nation-wide gathering of the family which peaks on the 4th of July - until 2001. But before that I was recognized by family as being family that had not yet attended a national.
I had a wonderful time at my first national in the Boise, Idaho National Forest. An infinity of possibilies opened to me, are still opening to me. It is the right place where you meet the right people in the right circumstances.
And yet I have never deliberately gone to a national. I went to the one in Idaho because I just happened to be in Missoula, Montana in the middle of June. I went to last year's national in West Virginia because it was on the way to where I was going. I went to this year's national because I have been bound for Colorado ever since I left the Pirate/Garifuna Coast of Honduras.
And this year I went to the national with the totally right people, people whom I love, people who are full citizens of the wonderworld, people who were family who had not yet attended a national.
Bonnie and Dan picked me up at the missile base west of Topeka where I had entered the joyous song of Ed Peden and 'The Infinite Sauce Band.'
In Denver we were joined by Bridget and her friends Giusepi Spadafora, a movie maker and prodigous mandolin player, a rider of railroad box cars who is totally in the spirit of Woody Guthrie. And Ricky, an amazing musician, the makings of a legendary fiddler.
In Colorado we began hearing horror stories of police beatings while most stood by and watched, of police harassment, persecution and brutality against family while most of the family did nothing, while most of the family found reasons to pussy out, while the majority of the so-called elders, the holier than thou old farts who attempt to be priests in what is suppose to be a leader-less, spontanous event, denounced those who tried to form a consensus for non-violent resistance.
We took our time getting to the gathering. Our immediate intents were to make music and to make a music video of the song of Bridget, Bonnie and Dan for distribution in Ireland, in the hope that this would lead to a tour of the Emerald Isle in the fall. Our intent was not to subject ourselves to the terrorism of the police.
Before we left Dan had consulted the I Ching and had gotten the hexagram T'un. This was the same one that I had gotten in Honduras during the retreat, of Denize and me, from the rising darkness of Semanya Santa. It is the hexagram that calls for a strategic retreat in the face of a powerful tide of rising darkness, a retreat that becomes a victory.
As we were coming into Steamboat Springs the police stopped Bonnie and Dan. It turned out that one of their brake lights had burnt out.
They were run through the homelandt security.
We then took refuge with my friend Sheri and our new friend Judy who live about 20 miles from Steamboat Springs in Hayden.
We had a prolific two nights and two days of music making. But when we began filming the music video by the railroad tracks we were soon joined by two of Hayden's finest in two SUV police vehicles.
They were cool. But now everyone was run through homelandt security. Guisepi captured it on film.
When we attempted to play music on the streets of Steamboat Springs we were immediately told that police were giving out at least $200 tickets. So we did not play with a readily recognizable container for donations.
That night we were given refuge in Steamboat Springs by Carol, a base guitar player and friend of Bridget.
I had a dark dream. I understood what Dan's consultation with the I Ching meant.
I was standing on top of a mountain with other people and I watched as a dark tide, a dark army of Orc-like homelandt security police marched to the foot of the mountain.
I tried to warn everyone. I pointed to the rising tide of darkness and tried to make the others see.
But nobody saw.
I knew that on the next day my position was going to be over-run. I prepared to make my stand.
And then I woke. And I understood that the Orc's march only when we let them.
The next day was the 4th.
The recording for the music video was completed. We made a mushroom tea. And arrived at the national just before sunset.
Our entry into the gathering was an open road, unopposed by the police. We left the parking lot with our instruments and immediately engaged the place with our music.
We were soon joined by a beautiful woman banjo-ist with her angelic four-year-old daughter, who both directed us to the Loving Oven Kitchen, where there were awesome musicians, including a stand-up base player.
We played before a vastly appreciative audience until at least 2 a.m. Then we went to the Granola Funk Kitchen where we played music until 4:30 a.m.
We were at the right place, with the right people, making the right contacts, in the right circumstances.
Then I returned to Carol's place with Bonnie and Dan who had a gig in Wichita, Kansas - that night.
It was, clearly, the best national I have been to.