Sharing My Love

I just found this written as a draft. I decided to post it (:


Today, I got an email from my father around 10 am. I clicked on it. A copy and paste format of images and paragraphs reads: Tell Your Lightning In A Bottle Story & Enter To Win Tickets. My eyes were drawn to those bigger bolder words suggesting I tell my story. Scrolling further, pictures of memories from the festival prior and plenty events coming my way, all in good fun, good times, keep them coming and going and to always be remembered.

I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you; to you, and all who are involved, creating, planting seeds of life in your beautifully produced events. So much love for you all.

I have been to LIB twice now, 2011 and 2012.
It is my favorite. Such magic. So good! Legendary! I wear the bracelet from the years past til I get the new one. A good reminder every time I look down at 2012's magenta and purple bracelet, and then remembering my same color 1 day pass bracelet from 2011. Speaking of, I wonder what this years will look like. Endless possibilities there are.

So, my 2011 LIB story goes like this...
2011 I was living in Las Vegas. It was the end of February; the 28th I believe, and I just purchased my early bird ticket for the festival with a gentleman I was seeing, saw, fell in love with; let's just call him The White Rabbit for now. I had been to one night only indoor raves in Los Angeles before I knew of conscious ones moving, doing and being together under the freely winking skies.
Two weeks before Memorial day weekend The White Rabbit tells me we cannot see each other anymore, the feeling is not mutual.

I have stepped into a vortex of magic and wheels of fate.

'Will this change our plans for LIB?' I asked. There was never a response.

I manage to sell my ticket to a friend of a friend last minute. As soon as I made the exchanged, my friend Rob calls me.
'Hey, I heard you need a ride to LIB?'

I told him that I wasn't going. If only he had called 2 minutes earlier...if only.
All of the sudden, something struck me. A jolt. A shock to the system.

'I just sold my ticket..I'll ride with you to California though.'
 I thought, if I wasn't going to go to LIB, I would at least visit some friends in the LA area.

Half way to LA I get butterflies. I felt, 'How can I sacrifice my being? No more feeling sorry for myself. I need to be there. I have been waiting for this'. Rob and I begin scheming. I only had $80. Apparently that was around the amount I needed for a one day pass.
As he drops me off at a friends house in Culver City, we discuss meeting at the Temple Of Consciousness, 2:00pm sharp on Sunday.

You see, I have no idea how I am going to get to the festival or who with at this point, I just know I will be there.
Saturday rolls around and I walk to Venice beach hoping to spot someone I know. No one. Not a single person I recognize. I made a few phone calls and manage to reach one friend, Jules. She said a friend of hers is looking to hang out, I accept the invitation. We meet.
He's an interesting character. Let's call him "Sniff(le)s"

Taking a walk, this fellow and I get into the conversation about this festival, and how amazing it sounds and how badly I want to go. I turn to him and he responds with the perfect answer, 'Let's go!'. We prep the car and headed south  the next day.

We pull up into the parking lot of the college where the tickets are being sold. There's my wrist band, "Really Good!" it reads, a single bracelet, a single moment that changed my life forever. Tears, running down my face with the mere thought of 'I made it.'.

We roll down the dirt road passing people in their stripes, feathers and ruffles and park in the back left of the lot. Sniffs, wearing all white, was hopscotching through the easily tracked practically paint sand dirt as we walk into the fair grounds.The sun is shining, people lounging around on the ground, legs crossed or bodies sprawled on their blankets and scarves to prevent the grass from making them itch. A major stage to my right, lights as high as a three story building are going off in my head, as I can only imagine what the outdoor festivities are like at night at like here.




We reach the temple of consciousness; it's 2 PM sharp.
'Where is he?' I wonder. 'Where is he?' These thoughts become words.
Not there. 'I know I will see him when I need to', the thought fills me. We leave, back down the hill from which we just climbed, lined with fiery red and gold lanterns I interpenetrated as 'watch your step'.

We decide to stop for a smoke break. 'Who to ask, who to ask.'
'Would you like to partake?', we ask a group of ones, all so beautiful. They turn to each other; it takes a moment or two for them to come to a verdict.
'No, Thanks!' they reply.
We move on. Sniffs asks if we should ask anyone else. I am feeling slightly discouraged at this point. Walking through the tents, a voice  rings through the spaces between.
"Hey! You guys hungry?", I remember it perfectly.

We follow a pathway outlined in rocks to the voice hailing from a skinny smiling body waving an arm from in between the nylon skins of the tents. He warmly invites us to join them in their parachute den; pillows and carpet spread all around the ground, with a short table supporting a pole reaching up and out the center of the dome- taped to it, a light; a light to always find my way back. Oh, excuse me-- and by them, I mean him, a girl named Johnny and Aj, who now prefers to be called Anthony.

As he was flipping over and heating a couple of brats on his electric grill he introduces himself.
'You can call me Kripa'.

Boy, that will be a name I will always remember.
This night! This time. This place.
I got a text from The White Rabbit, asking 'Are you at LIB?' that night.
I know I am on track.

I stayed with this group all night. Speaking with one another and sharing stories. Meeting new beautiful ones to share space and time with. A group of strangers all sharing a life, a moment in life, in this space, in this time, collectively creating, inspiring dreams, truth. Family, brothers and sisters, all lives happening all at once. We stayed awake and felt the sun rise with it's warm embrace.The time has come for ones to pack up. We didn't have to go home, but we could not stay there.

All the tents surrounding the dome were gone. Only a few people remained, exchanging numbers, goodbyes and hugs.
I decided to go on one last walk to the temple before leaving. On my way back down after enjoying my personal moments, I find myself being bear hugged by a fuzzy creature. It was such a loving embrace.
'It looked like you needed one', the fuzzy fellow remarked.
And needed one, I suppose, I did. We walked back down the trail to half cleared lots of moop and dirt and exchange names; Kyle is his.

And we shall meet again.


(This is the kind of story that takes a little bit of time to read. It's a butterfly effect sort of thing; which now that I think about it, this moment is one big flap of the wings)

Tinker, another new friend (who wears a dashing top hat), is about to leave. Next stop, he is visiting his parents. We say our farewells and see you laters', and he's off and away on his motorcycle in the blink of an eye.

I meet back with Kripa, Johnny and Anthony. A strange thing happened.
'Do you want to come with us?'

Kripa instantly showed me their means of traveling. It's a white short school bus that runs on cooking oil and gas. The dome rides on top and all the pillows inside stashed as tight as they can go. The inside benches, storage and shelves are handcrafted by Anthony and Kripa. Johnny informed my that it's a lot of hard work, loading and unloading. They planned on hitting 5 more festivals on their way to Seattle, WA, and then one more once they got there.

I said yes.
It felt right.

I went back in Vegas, worked for three days as an temporary office assistant, and met them in San Rafael, CA; and guess who gave me a ride and just happened to trade his motorcycle in for a car last minute at his parents house. Yes, Tinker! Who happened to be headed to Northern California as well.
Oh, life. Flow, all there is, is flow.

I went to these music festivals with them. Slept in the dome in the green sleeping bag my dad gave me. I traveled past Northern California for my first time, into OR, and WA. I saw places and stood places I had never been before. I am living free, and for my Self.  I am doing new things, I am meeting new people, finding family every where I am.

Because of meeting this group at Lightning In A Bottle, I landed in Washington. There, I met the loves of my life. I introduced my father to a couple (Kat and Sean Brown) I met here in WA at a "Meet Up", that happened to live in Las Vegas, regularly. This event encouraged my dad to reopened The Global Phoenix Foundation, a non-profit that supports holistic initiatives that manifest positive, symbiotic change for the planet and all who inhabit her.

All of this, because I chose to go to LIB. Because I chose to be strong. Because I opened up. I followed my heart, and said "YES!" to the universe.

Thank you Kripa, Johnny and AJ.
Always and forever, you played a major role in change my life.
& Thank you Lightning In A Bottle. I want to share you with the world.
MAGIC.



2012, I went again.
On the last night, Sunday, I experienced my heart again.
Two of my friends got sleepy during Bassnectar. (Go figure)
I had been holding my fist sized Labradorite for hours now. I believe it has something to do with me being so awake so early in the morning sober as a bat. They went to sleep, and I managed to have my the first moments alone at the festival. I roamed around right before the sun came up, and for the first time ran into familiar friends. I came across my friend Viking playing his bass for Lantz Lazwell and The Vibe Tribe. Seriously getting their grooves on. I stand  there and enjoy the tunes and wiggle around for a while before turning around. There was Kyle, the fuzzy fellow I had met a year before. It turns out, after moving to Washington, we have mutual friends ( which I still find fascinating because he lives in AZ). I walk some more and witness the sun rising. A familiar feeling rushes me. I am comfortable.

A guy runs up next to me and asks if I would like a swig of his wine.
I reply 'No, thank you. But I will throw it away for you.'
It ended up in the trash.

This guy is Telopa. A featured artists at 2012'a LIB. He painted a female, his muse, in most, if not all of his paintings. He invites me to hang out. We go to the artist parking/camping area and grab an orange and a two halves of a coconut. We take a walk, past all the cars, through a fence, down a small trench and through golden grasses that stuck them selves and poked themselves through my cotton slouchy boots. Those boots still have not recovered.
We work our way through wild squash and artichokes and stumble upon an old oak tree. He explained that an old gypsy woman showed him this tree the year prior. She found him going back in time in his mind and brought him to the tree to see the present moment again. We climbed to the open limbs so ready to catch us as we lounged against her leaves and peeling skins. We ate the orange and scooped the meat from the coconut halves. A song plays in the distance. It's one from memories I made months before, road tripping with a new friend to Washington. It's a song called "Let It Be" by Blackmill. It all lines up so perfectly, these life webs and gears.

Again, Thank you.