Camp Mars Day 2.
I love that it was completely left to me to decide what my time held. Being in that place gave me a chance to commune with nature in a very special way. I walked around the grounds- to the end of a trail to “the Edge of the Earth.” (AKA Hammock Village.) Tucked in an inlet of the wiry trees over cliff side, hung a family of brightly colored swing hammock strung between make shift floral stands. Getting into them took some maneuvering, but once in, body relaxed to ambient sounds and rhythmic motion.It was strange- staring up at the moving branches as a breeze came through, was the only sense of motion. When the breeze died down the space was surprisingly silent. I am accustomed to birds and cicadas buzzing ( or power lines for that matter) but there was nothing. It was the most peaceful place. There was no obligation to fill the silence with noise. It simply is, as we needed.
The hardest thing to surrender feeling obligated to fill quiet space with noise. My brain was quiet and so was everything else. I closed my eyes, soaking in every moment. Leaves overhead peppered sunlight onto my eyelids. Red and orange, blood illuminated in front of my eyes. I felt free. Completely. It was early enought in the day that no one else was occupying the other 7 slings awaiting warm bodies. It gave me a chance for a private moment. Deep exhale. Sign of relief for everything I got to forget about when I crossed the threshold to this place.
I tried to avoid my phone while I was there- both for practical and logistical reasons.( we had no signal and it killed battery life roaming all day for unnecessary signal, which subsequently left my phone useless to capture photos during the day or at the show in the evening.) In all truth, experiencing the moment instead of trying to capture and preserve it in digital interpretation was more valuable. What I see in my mind is my own. I wandered all over the grounds(and sadly never made it on a hike or to yoga) The spirit in those woods were everywhere. Drinking them in with each breath. knowing that the moment would pass too quickly.
Day 2 was different- there was a hefty increase in people since it was the Only day opened for those who had a single-day pass. It was great. Set in the middle of campus were the Blackfuel stand which was turning out coffee and goods ( I may have polished off 5 beverages in the course of the day) and then there was a couple of oddly dressed people seated behind a long table. They sat wordless and pounding away on type writer keys.The crowd around never waned. I had no idea what they were doing and it wasn’t until after camp that I discovered that the duo was infact the Bumbys. (Go on and see their twitter to get the full idea) Seated behind type writers, patrons approached their mark facing their auditor. After payment. the patron received an honest appraisal of themselves from the seated figure. It sounds weird, and it is, but it’s an interesting concept. We carry around tainted, falsely biased opinions of ourselves, and they don’t have that. They simply see and type. The appraisers, one male and one female, were faceless. Glasses, hats and headphones meant they wouldn’t be influence by chatter when someone approached. They wanted quiet. In some ways I think it was an effort to keep the appraisal pure.
Walked into the dining hall with my new friend Lauren and for the first time, laid eyes on my dear friend Kimber.She has been an amazing, encouraging presence in my life, and having the chance to meet her face-to-face was a gift. Afternoon announcements tried to overcome hundreds of people speaking in tongues.We found a seat, realizing I had hardly eaten the last two days. So excited by everything going on, I couldn’t be bothered to eat. It wasn’t long after we sat down that music took over the room. It became a dance party/sing along. Standing on chairs campers and counselors initiated a full-scale rebellion against “acceptable” behavior. It was infectious. Not two minutes later, Lauren and I stood up on our chairs to sing and dance along with “Greased Lightning.” and “Kings and Queens.” Every word. Reservation abandon. Everyone became children again. In that moment everyone let go and embraced the joy of the moment.
It’s hard to describe that moment. Gratitude for these people, this place, this band. It was making love with 20 people at the same time. (oops 🙂 ) It was difficult to walk away knowing I’d never have that moment again. It’s a bittersweet realization that moments don’t last. good or bad, they are temporary, but they leave an impression. I’ve known some people obsessed with trying to recreate a moment they loved. They have gone so far to as to hand out things to say during an event; hoping that with the same music, some of the same people, the right words and the proper prompt, willing the universe to revive a great moment back into existence. But it doesn’t work that way. The best and worst thing is they only happen once.
I walked out of the dinning hall, back to my exploration. I wanted, with every bone in my body, to write something amazing while I was out in California. Alas, I was too distracted and content to just exist in that place. I found my way to one of the wooden swings adorned with vibrant woven mats and cozy pillows to boot. It looked like morocco came to America and set up shop in Malibu.Next to the swing sat a wicker basket overflowing with books. All over campus, near seating areas, giant baskets sat waiting for eager campers to curl up and read. Baskets held an assortment of literature. Digging through my basket I found mostly classics- Dickens, Thoreau, Poe. Buried underneath I found “A Clockwork Orange.” Even though I was sitting pretty with Charles Bukowski in my pocket, I figured, Why not? I have a horrible habit of unintentionally acquiring things, and when I got back to Indy, guess what I found in my bag? (Sorry guys! I didn’t meant to take it with me…)
About the time I got a chapter into “A Clockwork Orange,” crowds started to gather in front of the Blackfuel Coffee bar for “Coffee with Shannon.” His voice carried through the gap, creeping up on my station just behind him. His voice warm and comforting. I sat for a while listening to him speak about the birth of Blackfuel and all things coffee. I decided it was best To leave the space so those participating.
A little ways away, the pool sat nearly empty so I figured, “why not? No one is looking 🙂 ” I disrobed and settled into a deckchair. Perfect plan! It gave me a chance to people watch from a safe distance. All of them undisturbed by on-lookers. Not long after I sat down, a golf-cart carrying Jared like a returning hero arrived across the way.( No joke, he was on the back holding on with one hand, leg out stretched and waiving to the crowd quickly forming.) It was a spectacle. I hardly saw Jared- or really anyone besides him- roaming around. Couldn’t help but chuckle. I went back to my book pretending like I wasn’t excited or distracted by the newly de-greened Leto. Then suddenly I see this little thing flying. “what the fuck?” It was a camera drone the camera staff were playing with from the other side of the fence. Side to side, up. down. and then then it was hovering over the water, three feet from me. There is hardly anything more embaressing than realizing Jared has seen you in a bathing suit.( By proximity, I happen to be part of the scenery while the boys were playing with their toys. Ridiculous. haha) It was good for a laugh.
CUPCAKE WARS WITH TOMO…
If you’ve seen Cupcake Wars on foodnetwork, you have an idea about the nature of this event…
A group of roughly 100/150 people filed into an empty dining room, greeted at the door by none other than Tomo. Inifinite ball of good energy radiated into ever vacant inch of the room. “Yes, yes, we’ll take pictures, but get in here so we can get started.” Groups of 5-7 people hovered around tables lining the hall, with a plate of cupcakes sitting in the center of each. Everyone was looking around the room taking in the scene. Roars quieting, Tomo began. ” Ok, so, today, I’m assuming some of you guys have seen cupcake Wars?Well today, we are going to do cupcake wars CampMars style. So I’ll give you guys a few minutes to come up with an idea. It can be about camp, the woods, the band, whatever, and at the end I’ll narrow it down and we will vote for the best one.I’ll be coming around to see what you guys are up to. Everybody ready?”
After some deliberation we decided on a clean, simple design.. but that was only part of the challenge. It was a mad rush to the supply table. Stocked with icing, piping bags, and food coloring, as well as sprinkles, it was a matter of who could get their hands on what, first. We have a bowl of white icing, a tube of red color (for pink), a piping bag and some sprinkles. We started laying on the color, hoping to figure out to use piping bags with. Pointing at his apron, I said ” this is great, where did you get this?” “oh she gave it to me.” motioning across the room (I think to Robin who is notorious for great gift giving.)
He stayed and chatted for a bit. Tomo feels like my long lost brother. Easy to be around. Comfortable. The thing I love about this moment is he is the same person to everyone. Very kind, animated, engaged, and always an air of no-fucks-given. Our design turned out pretty decent… We made it to the top 3! All about the presentation. Room full of laughter and positive chatter, it was an event unlike any of the others. I walked away excited to see what was next…
CAMP MARS- CHURCH OF MARS pt 2. that’s a post for a different day… but that’s not where the day ended.
DRUM CIRCLE WITH SHANNON. If you can imagine such a thing…
It was the middle of the night, at least it felt like it. After the emotional high of the last MARS show in the states for 2015 (and LOVE+LUST+FAITH+DREAMS) it was hard to come down. The crowd disbursed after the show. Some were sneaking off on a hike in the woods with Jared (yes, it was pitch black and nothing but flash lights to illuminate the way.) Then there were some who wandered to an amphitheater made of boulders on the other side of camp.The divot, which was probably once a creek bed, housed a cosy little nook for a gathering such as this. I wasn’t “supposed” to be there but by some good fortune, Karla (my darling doll) was participating in this event. Since we came together in the same vehicle, I had to stay- such a bummer, right? haha.
The valley surrounded by rocks and strands of lights quickly filled with bodies, drums, buckets, sticks, and dreamers. It was set up almost like an orchestra. Arcs increasing in size and diversity expanding outward from the center mark. In place of a conductor stand set Shannon’s drum kit. His drum tech had a couple drums set off to the side, as he was handing out anything and everything with which people could make music.
It’s hard to believe that after the show Shannon had some left to come and conduct this symphony.Perched on a hill looking down into the bowl, I sat watching the event unfold.
Drum circles I’ve been to in the past happened out in the woods, in the middle of the night as we passed a bowl. It was the epitome of community and sort of existing as one body driven by rhythm. Shannon walked down the path into the pit and shared a few words. Talking about the nature of drum circles. “Everyone just start beating or tapping.” It was chaos that eventually melded into natural waves of sounds. No one knew what they were doing (well, maybe a few) but it happened. Out of chaos came harmony once everyone started to feel the rhythm vibrating within them and around them. Shannon sat at his kit, tapping out a simple beat for everyone to follow, sort of managing the madness. He stood up from his position and things halted for a minute. “You know a drum circle isn’t about having something to beat on,If you are there and taking part, dancing , whatever, you are part of the movement.” The group was so large they ran out of instruments, but that didn’t stop anyone dancing around, enjoying the gathering. Shannon sat down at his kit again briefly before moving into the mass of people. Knelt down in front of the bass drums opposite him, Shannon started playing a beat on the rim of a big bass drums while the person behind it played on with their own rhythm.Doing as drummers do in a circle, they felt it and play it. It’s their internal metronome alternating, released to those sitting in the circle, or near it, or in the middle of it. THe whole point is to get taken away. Compelled by the sounds of the drums to enter a trance.
Shannon walked all around and through the crowd, playing on drums, buckets, rocks, dancing around with those twirling on the periphery. There were capable drummers in attendance. One was seated on the outskirts, and Shannon came and began playing on his bucket. Instantly it became an exchange. Like this electricity passing back and forth between the two of them. it was almost like they were battling and at the same time, in perfect sync. It was impossible to escape. It was intoxicating. I sat looking on, feeling the energy of everyone bobbing their head, closing their eyes, feeling their own rhythm. It’s something that truly has to be experienced to appreciate. There is no other way to express it.
It was a gracious and humbling moment. Shannon fielded all kinds of questions, talking about drum lessons (“I only ever had one lesson and the teacher and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye. haha.”) Totally open, he shared of himself, and even in one instance, about jared. There was no escaping the sense of absolute love glowing from him. It was infectious.His joy, and even our tendency (as a group of pervs) to make everything dirty.bahaha- I mean, come on! Can you really escape it when you follow flirty talk with drum talk. its endless puns! It was so difficult to separate and impossible not to smile. (“Y’all are dirty, hahaha”) If there was ever a moment when I believed I was seeing Shannon in his perfect habitat- that moment was it: playing drums, surrounded by love, interacting with all the people sharing in the experience with him. He was in it, and it was amazing to witness.
Not for the Faint of Heart. 
Leave a comment