Posts Tagged ‘Michfest’

It’s that time again.  I’m getting ready to go Home.  Every year around this time, thousands of womyn across the world start getting this restless feeling.  Moving toward Home.  I’ve noticed my inbox is fuller, womyn reaching out, checking in, reconnecting.  I’ve noticed my FB is much, much more active.  Even womyn who won’t physically be able to come Home this year are feeling the pull, thinking out last minute options, selling beloved things so they can get to where they need to be.  Home.  There are many tears shed, there are even more smiles and hugs and moments of Festival Majik.  Strangers send out money and love and ideas to help the sisters that sometimes they have never met get Home.  I love this.

This year, for the first time, my mom is coming Home with me.  It’s going to be amazing!  I hope her Fest is everything she needs it to be.  More amazing though, is that, at 64, she is still so interested in what makes my life rich that she wants to experience this.  I want to be her when I am older.  Okay, the her that doesn’t have the irritating faults that I’ve worked not to own.  But the open curiosity, the complete love, and the willingness to do something not so comfortable because she wants to be closer to her daughter.  Wow!  Next year, I’ll take her on a more spa-like vacation.  But who knows, maybe she’ll want to go to Fest again.  I talked to my step-father last night.  He’s worried she’ll fall in love with a womon at Fest and leave him.  I doubt that, but she might have a Festie Fling.  It’s just that kind of place.

So I am packing to be with my tribe.  I, too, am taking care of last minute details, sending tickets to womyn I’ve never met, because I love my Home and I want it to prosper.  I am lucky enough to work there, and be a part of providing a welcome and a hug to every sister I see.  It only seems right that I give back for that.

But time is moving too fast.  I haven’t planned well enough and I have major shopping to do.  There are closets to buy, shoes to try on, costumes to make, gifts to purchase and craft, cleaning to be done, oh, and bills to pre-pay.  So off I go, and if I don’t post again until September, you’ll know  why.  I’ll be Home, where there is no Internet, no cell, no electricity, no outside world.  Yay!


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Today is clean out the basement day.  I don’t want to, I don’t like it, it’s never fun and I have to do it at least once a year.  And so, of course, I find myself procrastinating.  I went on to Ravelry (FB for knitters) to look up some patterns and see if I was interested in starting anything new – for later, as a reward for getting the basement done.  I started looking at my finished projects, and my queue and I saw a picture in my ‘friends’ group.  It made me so sad.

Last year, when I got home from Fest, I was just so adamant that my friends all come back with me this year.  One womon totally got hooked.  She jumped on board with everything she had from day one.  It’s funny, because at fest last year, I spent much of that time knitting her a snood in the most beautiful silk/wool combo.  It was gorgeous!  A couple of months ago, we found out that she had cancer.  She died last month.  And yet, there was her smiling face in my friends page.  On her page, she had written about what she planned to make next, how she had too much time on her hands at hospice, how she was searching for simpler patterns that didn’t take too much brain power.  None of that matters now.  I sat and remembered C, and then I clicked that majik button and unfriended her.  I’ll take memories of her to fest, and sit again with her in the root cemetary and wish that she had lived long enough to come home just once, and then realize that her spirit had found it’s way all by itself.

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My mom and her husband have come to help me with home improvement projects for the new year.  It’s been a wonderful thing.  I now have a new bathroom.  Previously I had had a half bath upstairs, but now I have a shower, and we’ve replaced everything except the toilet itself.  It looks fabulous.  Or at least it will when I get in there and paint.  But the two person stuff is done.  And it’s been a trial, because they brought an intestinal virus with them and every day one or two of us has been laid out flat with body fluids jetting from both ends.  TMI, I know.

But laying here, so sick that I can’t really even think clearly, I am just so overcome with gratitude!  My family has come to help.  Even though they are sick.  How blessed am I?  I love that I come from a tradition of selflessness and giving.  I love that I have made that an intentional part of who I am and how I relate to others.  I love that my birth family and my Fest family are people that I can love freely, count on in a pinch, and who are always looking out for me. 

I hope that I can always do that for others, no matter who they are, and no matter what their beliefs.  That is how we be the change.

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So it seems that I have a base of 22 dedicated readers who check my blog regularly.  I didn’t really think about having people who regularly checked in until yesterday when I was with some friends and one of them told me how glad she was that I was back from that place where there is no email because she missed my blog posts.  I’m not sure how much I like knowing exactly who is reading my stuff.  It kind of censors me in a way that I really hadn’t thought about.

Like, I was going to write about how I had totally convinced myself that my festie dresses could be real world wear and so I wore one out with my friends.  But when I did, another woman who probably thought she was being funny came up and stuck money in my cleavage.  Very disconcerting and disrespectful.  I’ll never wear that dress outside of Fest again.  But now I wonder if my friend who reads this blog will talk to the woman who did it, because I know they are friends. I wonder if I will be causing hurt feelings.  (C, I trust you will keep this to yourself.)  Ah, well.  There’s really nothing to be done about it.  I guess when you put yourself into public space, you have to consider the risk and what is acceptable to you.

So then I began to wonder about the people who do read my blog.  I originally started it because I had to.  It was a requirement for the Secret Pal Swap.  It was supposed to be all about my knitting.  Obviously, I have gotten away from that.  BTW, my knitting is going slowly.  I am still working on my socks (2 pair) and three hats – none of which are for me.  Read the socks are for me, the hats are not.  So, I am asking – what is it that keeps you reading my blog?  Are you looking for more about what I create or more about my life?  Let me know.

New topic:  I saw the boy yesterday.  It was pretty emotion neutral and he was full of lies.  Pretty sad.  I cleaned out his room and it is once again a guest room.

Music for today:  Hootie, James Taylor, Digney Fignus, Emmylou Harris, Spin Doctors (lots of Spin Doctors) and Natalie Merchant

Reading for today: Big Mouth and Ugly Girl (the author has me so uncomfortable and filled with feelings of helplessness that I’m having trouble getting through without putting it down occasionally to breath.  Only on Chapter 6.)  Anne of Green Gables (that redhead sure does talk alot!)

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Today, I went out as my real self to buy popcorn. As I was coming out of the store, I saw a man. A very large tatooed, well muscled, not white man. A man that would be racially profiled. A man that I could instinctively be very defensive around. He was walking a very, very tiny little dog. The disconnect between his size and intimidation factor and this little tiny chijuajua prancing ahead of him made me smile. He said, “Hello.” I smiled even larger and said, “Hello,” to him. He told me I had a nice smile. I thanked him and we went on our ways. The power of openness and real intention.

I think I’ll put on a Fest dress and go mow the lawn.

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Back, but not Home

I arrived here at my domicile in the wee hours of Friday morning. It feels so sad to leave my home, which I can only be at for three weeks a year. I just thank the Goddess for that time. My time Home was, as is always the case, intense, crazed, loving, healing, uplifting, spirit soaring, and simply beautiful. Being home is, as a friend of mine said to me, “a place where I live to the outer edges of my skin.” (Thanks, Pat) It is a place where every cell of myself remembers back to a time when all womon lived like this and love, respect, and compassion were the norm. The experiences I have had this year stir in my brain and keep me from relating to this “outside world” where time is linear, people judge, and very few recognize their own beauty. I noticed myself today not walking as tall and flowingly as I had just two days ago… how easily those defenses come to settle back in.

I keep being reminded of Home in a myriad of ways, though – already the emails, phone calls, and messages on the boards have started to come in and keep me aware that my sisters are everywhere and that we hold that space in our hearts while the Land holds it in its physicality, waiting, waiting for us to come together again.

The womyn are amazing and the reminder that I am a part of this is so very special. I’ve made a connection with one really special womon this year that has the potential to become very important to me. Not sure in what way that will happen, but I do admire her – the way she moves through her life on the land, her ethics, and her moral compass. Oh, and did I mention that she has the sexiest mind I’ve ever had the opportunity to explore? It will be interesting to see how that translates into this world – given the lack of humanity out here. It can be brutal to move through this world and keep the shared vision that we have for it. It is often a cruel slap in the face to react with honesty and openness to something – only to be ridiculed for expressing interest.

These first few days back are often exhausting just in the effort to put meaning behind meaningless things. On the other hand, I am also so very alive and excited and not really at all depressed. I couldn’t live without what I receive there and come back so committed to bringing it to everyone I know for as long as I can. Hopefully for the whole year.

I have danced

I have sung

I have walked the land as a beautiful womon

I have participated happily in consentual objectification

I have cried and been held

I have lived

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