Full of amazement I started out, from the lively colourfull city of Porto. Lively down at the street, but dying at heart. From the bridge, the great bridge of Porto it may be seen. An entire neighborhood, overgrown by blue flowering morning glory, consuming house and town and street alike. Expansion lays at the root of this decay it seems, or was it the recession? No matter, from our tower house room I found a ride in a bus full of boom volunteers next morn. The angel of good luck upon my shoulder, we sped away from the lush coasts of the Atlantic foam and made for the drought stricken hinterlands.
And sky turned a strange yellow and before long we were greeted by a wall of smoke rising up in menacing pillars from one of the many Forrest fires that raged in this land at that time. Many seem to be lit on purpose, but the fire fighters are lame struck by the eternal jittering within the political arena over whose responsible and who's going to pay. The hills turned a scorched yellow where all the grasses had been touched by the sun for way too long and ecaliptus trees were all that was to be seen as far as trees went. Yet, it was beautiful. From the refrigerated air in the gut of the bus regurgitated into 40 plus degrees of toasted air, at the backdrop of what would be boom 2016. My goodness, what heat! But I'm not complaining, I love this! I made my way to the pre-parking of the festival, which was like a crazy chaotic anarchistic jumble of randomly parked hippy vehicles in a sloping grove, dusty as hell. Dust seems to be one of the predominant companions throughout the whole Boom experience, it's a fact of life. One night I camped under the plentiful stars near by, the steady beat of psychedelic already within earshot. The next, getting closer to the festival entrance, was spent upon a largish straw bale, a lavish luxury for sure.
And than it started. In the dark we, some other hitchhikers and me walked to the gates, there we met the cycles, who were alowed entrance before anyone else. We, as vagabonds, had to wait the arrival of the vehicle posse, to walk in dust and disgrace besides them, hell no that I wouldn't! So when a camper an passed, I saw my chance, and jumped on back, hanging on for my dear life, bumping and swaying, down the dusty road. But I got there, in time, and that made it all worth it. So I was banded, authorized and supplied with a map, and than got cruising down to lakeside. After a while I found a very nice spot, set up my camp and as soon as I was all done, security came and send me away. "No camping here" was the verdict, "But I asked' I said, to no avail. Slightly despairing after after trying another 3 places, that all quickly turned sour because of noisy neighbors, thorns or too much sun, I was welcomed into Michelle and Luke's great camp, I struck down under a majestic old oak tree, and made my base, from which to explore. Rain was not really a danger, so just a tarp and a carpet sufficed. They where the nicest gentile American couple of cyclists, and there was a jounger Frenchman in their group too. We soon bonded and our camp became ever more beautiful as we houled in rocks for a table, several tarps for shelter, and a mandala garden out front as a road mark for lost boomers on their nightly ways home. The grove around us quickly filled up as more and more people arrived and we were soon winding and jumping our way out every time we went down to 'the festival' The opening ceremony was still two days away, so we swam in the warm waters of the lake, explored, and simply enjoyed being there, with still a whole Boom before us.
Six days it would last, and already after the first, I was completely beyond. The vibe, the many thousands of amazingly beautiful people, the amount of devotion that had gone into creating any little corner. New wonders were there to be discovered every moment. So much love, all around. And it was only day one. I went on a candy flip, a whirlwind trip, all over the place, from the floor to the base. Meeting familiar faces everywhere, colueges, friends, long lost aquintences randomly or intended. The free world meets at Boom it seems, and I was just a part of it. Where are you? Right front, left front near the speakers, see you at the dance floor, BOOM!!
Deafening noise.
The energy never came down, for six whole days. There ware so many nice workshops, so much to do, hear and see. I was determined to do all kinds of things, and I did, dust not by far as many as I thought I would. For every time I got near that dance floor, our Dance Temple, I was drawn in, dancing away the days, nights and mornings, not knowing why, but simply seeming to answer a Devine command within me, to move my feet.
Of all the different areas, perhaps the magic Forrest amazed
me most. Formerly The sacred fire area, it was rife with nice little corners, glowing mushrooms, multi person swings, cute sits and chai shops, magical ground art and twinkling lights that turned the whole place to sheer magic every night, where one could dream away till the break off day, or drift off to distant lands. Meeting with a good friend of mine, Annelinde,
and meeting her lovely crew put me in touch with the I lustrous herb of changa.
The magic captured within it takes one to change its perspectives on this world
to such an extent that it looks like another world all together. Sitting near a frog filled pool, all I could see became so unreal. Like the crispest oil painting, filled with wonderous light. You can not believe that such a thing can exist, it is such a miracle, and....it is real.
Five more days came to pass, in which all corners of the festival were explored, and yet, there always seems to be something new, that you haven't seen before. as gnome in a hole, a lurking dragon, some elves giggling on a bridge, another cosy chill out area. The actual sacred fire, was on a peninsula in the lake this year, where each night the fire would be lit at the hands of a solemn shaman, accompanied by enchanting acoustic music and singing from those present all around.
The last two night I spent in the straw under the wisdom tree, huggeling the body of a South African female friend, so welcome after the loneliness I often feel, even in such a beautiful crowd.
The end came, soon nor late it seemed, but just right. For a few days I hung around in the area, together with a bunch of other Boomers, winding down from the high vibes at the lake. Oh the lake, the amazing water, without which, Boom would surely be impossible.
I was America bound now though, and soon followed that calling. Two days spent in Lisbon, feeling sickly, got me on the plane, rather un-impressed of the cities proposed glamour. Alas, perhaps another time. Please get ready, a loud rumble, and I was in Morocco. Three star hotel, what the heck?! Provided by the airline, for my 20 hour overlay. There was a pool. A pool?!
Yeah, like a real pool, and high beds, and satellite tv, dude, are you for real!
Whatever, sun set in the dessert like everywhere else. Luckily I did find a crack in the facade of all this un African ness, and somwhere, behind a mosque, at a parking lot, under some trees, there was tea, real Moroccan thee, and sugar cane juice at 50 cents a glass, no, two glasses, oh wow! Then, over the great waters, west beyond the west, to the big apple I came. And not a half hour in the country (really, they let me in, just like that, just like 9 passport checks away from Casablanca), and I was treading the American soil, free and wild.
I managed to locate Kate's place in Brooklyn, where I could stay for a few days. A nice condo shared with some friends, and rooftop view of the whole shwebang! Manhattan, Statue of Liberty, and all the rest, fu#*ing crazy!
So what did I do? Walk and be amazed. Not really any objective but to experience it.
I have been dreaming of New York for a few years, different dreams, but usually something to do with bridges, wanting to be there or wondering why I already have to go back. So it's giant bridges I walked, and especially the queens borough bridge amazed me. So much steel, so much traffic, such a huge town, since such a long time. Everything here is just big, it cannot be denied. Cars, bridges, buildings, fridges, everything is huge. Not usually a city person, but for some days I could appreciate. The giantness of it all. From central park to the Empire State, from Park avenue to Chinatown to Wall street to Ground zero, from Grand central to Times Square. By metro, foot, over, under, mayhem everywhere, so many people, such crazy tall buildings, so many lights, so much........ HOW can this place EXIST?! Marveling in unbelief. Without judgment, I am perplexed. Oh so happy, to have a safe haven at Kate's place to withdraw to, to digest, at least a bit of it, before heading out again.
Of course, this would not last, luckily for my sanity. So I took the train out, along the Hudson River, to Poughkeepsie, from where I hitched the rest of the way to the camp. At the sweatlodge camp in the woods at Ashokan, where also Carl would be arriving soon. How nice to meet another whole Bigheart family here across the ocean, as dear as the ones at home. Such wonderful people, and funny characters. And together we build the camp. In a tall pine grove it stood, perhaps 50 or 60 heads in all. The harmony in the camp was remarkable. Again, so much love, so much devotion to our shared objective, of the ceremony. A lot of knowledge was shared, and there was music around the campfire in the chilly nights. Yes, here they say they labourday is the end of summer. Could it be true? It sure doesn't feel that way. However, down by the creek the lodge took place, and one of the days, the fire was again my place. Great to be able to works together with these bears of men, in this Forrest of bears. Don't leave your food out, or they'll get you. Even for toothpaste. For some reason I felt much more connected with the ceremony than I have in several years, perhaps because it was all new here, well not all, but it was a very conscious choice to come here. When it's weekend drew to an end we disbanded, again, in such harmony and smooth cooperation. That night there was a Kirtan at the Omega Institute, the place where Carl and Stephany both work a lot, and I was invited to stay the night, at Justin the lodge gnome's place.
How l lucky am I? Invited to the most delicious food, for cayaking on the lake, to wander around in that place that's been created with so much love. Sweet flute music rises up through the trees, by a Tibetan master, watching the tiny tree frogs at the pond of the sanctuary on the hill, all, by the grace of the universe, and the help of friends.
One thing led to another and an option arose to stay at a local organic farm for some time, with a woman named Sarah I'd met at the lodge. We really connected during the kirtan and so, after spending two days on the lovely grounds at a Omega, I was given a ride to Great Song farm not far away. And there I still am. Sleeping in a one of this characteristic silver trailers, working in the field again, oh it's been so long since I woofed, and it feels great. Cleaning unions, harvesting beets, weeding parsley, I get to know Sarah better and better. She is a mystery, and I do not know here it will lead me. Yesterday we were at Woodstock, like, the village. Funny hippy town with the most amazing candle shop you have ever, ever seen. Things you didn't even know existed, Crystals everywhere, and pretty clothes. Oh no problem to spend 500 bucks here in an hour, starting to feel like a proper capitalist maybe? Luckily, as soon as I'm outside, my desires are greatly diminished.
Inside there is a real tickle now. To strike out west, across the Great Plains, to unknown horizons.
Looking at the statue of Buddha at the Tibetan monastery here my heart yearns for the Far East, or is it the far west, from where I stand? Gandan, Mongolia.
But for now, I am here, experiencing something,
Very special.
