re entry

soundtrack: Michael Franti's "Bomb the World"

the skin from my playa-eaten fingertips, rehydrated, is peeling, painfully. i have a couple full, deep nights of sleep under my eyes, and only a few resilient specks of gold glitter. but most solidly i knew i had returned from Home when a (most likely meth-flamed) fight erupted from a car that happened to screech to a halt right in front of our house yesterday afternoon. i had been blissed-out on the front porch with Michael Franti. he still sang from my computer as i gawked in awe at the scene unfolding through the front window and called 911 for the first time in my life. "Power to the Peaceful!! Love to the Peaceful!!" i felt silly and helpless.
the night before, we had our first Family Dinner, post-burn. Mackindaddy and Gyrlene were sharing their first-timers' experiences, and Sealion and i expounded on our return trip. Mackindaddy turned to me and asked, "so what was the most amazing thing you saw out there?" the first thing i noticed about his question is that it struck me as from an outsider looking in, when i feel most-at-home there than anywhere else in my existence. it also helped me frame in my mind that: although there is much to see there, the best collection of mind-blowing, stimulating artwork in the most elegant gallery (both day and night), what effects me most in Black Rock City is not the art; it's the society. and as i have been popped out of that utopian bubble into the stratosphere, i do notice that there is a void of art (everything *could* be produced artfully, it just isn't .. would be better for the soul, for the creator and for the user-viewer, if it were). what i hurt for very deep deep down is the social interaction. i am looking around me out here and trying very hard to see the beauty in the dysphoria. where there is openness, respect, common-ground, and friendliness there, there contrasts closed-off, distrusting, sharp, and at-best-distractedness here. i look around me here and everyone seems hurting. and unable to reach out. i feel unsafe. and sad.
and so. i did not come here to complain at you, or to dwell in the muck. i came to ask what the wise and insightful Brer (newly self-named, Gemini Cricket [!!] )asked at the end of his christening week in Black Rock City: "what do i do with this?" now that we're back from the desert, de-playafying our belongings as best we can (or would), returning to our "waking lives", in the day-to-day, how do we bring the desert home? i don't want the playa to be a one-week-out-of-my-year "vacation"; there are 350 (something.. ) days left that are thirsty for that love and beauty even more.
~ all the love that happens in Black Rock City comes from the outer world. the desert does provide rugged natural beauty and love, but the society is imported. how to find it? to keep it going and growing and encouraged to bloom? and more importantly: how to SPREAD it?? the world is (literally) dying for the kind of understanding, visibility, and nurturance (is that a word?) that exists in a single drum-circle in Black Rock City. how to radiate that?
for now, i will continuing funneling concentrated doses of love through the food i prepare. *and* this weekend, my food-girlie chicas and i are meeting at Golden Gate Park to attend the Power to the Peaceful Festival (with Michael Franti himself!). ( powertothepeaceful.org )

that is a good start, but i am still sending out the question, and i know it comes with a hefty reply, for sure:

Dear Universe, please show me: how do i spread the love?





more and more and more glory-ful photos to come!!!!