Dear Liza,
Friday morning at SOAK 2024 dawned warmer and I went for a walkabout with some of my campmates at Limbo Lounge. Following the Principle of Consent, I won’t include their photos here because I forgot to ask permission.
As I walked around, I was surprised by how few cameras I saw. With all this incredible eye candy about, why was no one taking pictures?
I asked a lady who was setting up her camp about this. She explained The Principle of Immediacy, of being in the moment. When you are chatting or cooking or enjoying, putting a camera between you and your subject can spoil that special moment. This made sense to me, and I stopped taking so many pictures, just enough to help my slippery memory be able to relive these days and the magic of stretching out in a sunny hammock.
On one of my walkabouts, I met a fellow named CJ. He asked me if I was sleeping well in all this lovely mountain air, and I confessed that I hadn’t been able to get warm enough to sleep very comfortably. He smiled, walked to his tent, and came back with a fluffy leopard print onesie, like giant baby pajamas with a hood. He put it into my hands.
“How can I thank you?” I smiled, overwhelmed at this gift. “You just did,” he said. “I brought it to give it away, and now it’s yours.” The Principle of Gifting had come home to roost. Part of the charm of this place is intentionally bringing or making things to give away. Not to sell or trade, but simply to gift for the joy of giving.
I regret, just a little, that I didn’t take CJ’s picture. But it would have gotten in the way.
Embracing my new pajamas as well as a new understanding, I walked back to camp and made a few circuits of neighborhood, handing out the four dozen chocolate chip cookies I had made, to bring, to give away.
Katie, Douglas, and I walked out to the Gate with Kestrel for her Gayte shift (everyone has a job to contribute to the festival, according to the Principle of Civic Responsibility).
After some confusion, we had snacks with some lovely people at camp Misbehavin’ and headed back to our camp. We met a dear friend of Katie’s, who knows Kestrel is a textile artist and had brought a new weaving craft to teach her. The two of them hunkered down and had a craft festival of their own, right there by the Cosmic Messenger’s feet.
We got back to camp worn out and happy, and I spent quite a long time just laying in my borrowed tent, listening to the sounds of the camp and appreciating where I was.
Later that evening, Kestrel and I got to make the long walk around the camp in our fancy jellyfish hats! The dark, and the uneven ground, made walking a challenge. But so much fun! Folks would holler “I love your hat!” from their camp chairs, and we even ran into a swarm of about 20 others people in umbrella -type jellyfish costumes, and danced along with them for a while.
I felt like we were really part of the festival, not just visitors. After midnight, we made our way back to the tents. I fell asleep, Kestrel took off to find her Troupe.
Love,
Grandma Judy
Dear Liza 