We went to the Whole Earth Festival in Davis recently and, as always, it was sublime. Wicked drum beats, Zeke the clown, bunches of happy old hippies, friends, the girls in flowing skirts and dancing bellies, the ones that we call 'family', colorful children, the smell of smokey dreams, beautiful people, and mid-wives.
Dad and Govinda in the drum circle.
My mid-wife Tosi, mystic and amazing. Listening to the sound of me, ever so delicately. Her presence is necessary, on another occasion.
Tosi, a comfortable me, radiant Rachel, and someone new.
The Universe clearly lied; there were no more to come. Yet, with each lucent breath, laying under a sun-spotted sky, I listened to the familiar sound of another. A mermaid laugh, my nacreous pearl; you are lucid in trance, iridescent in soap with glossy butterfly wings. I can hear the trident god, under the sea, shaking the shell and making lightening spring.
I spent the first couple of months silently wishing you away; I had nothing let to give. My silent good-nights were really goodbyes. You stayed; you did nothing more than grow. Invading my space and sending my senses through another maze. I spent those days sitting in my shell and when I did speak, it was nothing but a yell. Your brothers knew nothing of you then, so they made little sense of what I would say. You've continued to swim, gather, and grow.
It was Mother's Day weekend when I laid on a tiny quilt at a noisy college campus, Tosi and Rachel and Amy and Tricia, where I found it impossible to resist any part of you. Especially your sound, the ocean and your wave. No more moments of strayed faith.
A sweet little thing I captured this year at Whole Earth.
A tiny tribute to Che, whose change was not extreme.
Where faith was not buried and only in tribe life was free.
A small someone will don it soon. 'Viva la revolucion' with us, little one.
It seems to be the same tradition for us. Me: tired eyes, stumbling feet, and bellyful. Aaron: holding on, dreaming of someone new, that mellow man, becoming a new father again and again.
Under the sun, lit by the moon, in the haze of our days, that moment will come; welcome to Tribe, our newest darling one.