IT'S A SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

At the Newport Folk Fest, Jon Batiste said, many times, "this is not a concert, it's a spiritual practice." I think that applies to life. It is not a trial we endure, it's a journey we actively experience. These past few days, I've seen music, heard colors, felt smiles... I've leapt through the looking glass into the mad world of the now. 

And it's glorious.

I am a very lucky person. I know this. I think I always have been. Not to say I haven't had my share of tough times, tragedy, and turmoil. Times so bad I use alliteration when describing them. Still, I find this world so amazing. So magical. 

I am sitting in a coffee shop in Edinburgh, Scotland, at the beginning of my first Edinburgh Fringe. So of course I am feeling good. Great. Grand. So wonderful I have to use alliteration to describe it. It's been about 48 hours so far. I've met many people. Walked many streets. Absorbed a lot of good mojo. 

And it feels right.

Do you ever get that feeling when you are somewhere, doing something, and you think "this is where Ia m supposed to be. Right now. Right here. 

Right.

Or Left, for my fellow left handed geniuses.

So much worry in the world. So much sorrow. So much to do. 

I think the sadness in the world necessitates the joy. We have to live well, to cherish this life, in order to defend it properly. We have to know love and wonder. We have to. We have to always remember how amazing it is to be alive. Particularly in tough times. 

And these are tough times.  The planet is clearly fucked, environmentally speaking. Fascism seems to be on the rise. War is raging in various countries. Constantly. There are shootings, almost daily, in America. And death waits for us all.

But that is why I find it so easy to celebrate life. 

I'm quite the preacher today. I imagine my happiness in a world gone mad can be quite annoying to folks.

Consider it my illness, my coping mechanism. 

I can't and won't change my love of life. Why should I? Every time I let myself be myself, life turns out fantastic. Every damn time. 

So. 

On with the journey. The spiritual practice. The show.

Here's a song. It's By and By by Caamp. And yes, I just wrote a sentence with three "by"s in it. Yahoo!

IT'S NOT A CONCERT

I am on a journey of music and mojo. Of theatre and haggis. Of life. I can feel it in my bones, in my skin, in my soul. I don't dream so much as have visions. I don't walk so much as float through fields of energy. 

I am sitting in Brooklyn right now. Got in last night around 2 am after driving down from Newport. We were there for the folk fest. 3 days of music and feeling like a hippie. Being a hippie. And the best kind of hippie. Not the weird, stupid, bullshit version of hippies as portrayed on shitty tv shows and old movies. I mean feeling connected and kind and happy with everyone as you dance along. 

Being a hippie is all about trust. Both in yourself and in everyone around you. Newport Folk has been around forever. Or at least longer than me. And anything older than you is ancient and forever. It's where Dylan went electric. Where Joni came back last year. And where I went this year wide open for anything and everything.

It did not disappoint. First up, caught a little MDou Moctar. A magician on the guitar. A mystic. A revelation.

It was insane. There are 3 big stages at Newport. And a couple little ones. And everyone everywhere is happy to be there and for the most part cool. So we wander through the notes and chords, catching My Morning Jacket and Caamp, Goose and SistaStrings.

Then someone gets sick, and at the last minute, James Taylor walks out to do an impromptu set. At first I thought it would be okay, hearing JT. Like mellow, old timey music or something. I had his greatest hits on a cassette when I first moved to NYC after college. Back when I was on the starvation/walking diet and the world was brand new exciting and crazy and I wrote in my journal every day and listened to that album oh so much. And so James Taylor comes out and starts playing Something in the Way She Moves, and I start to cry as that time fills my soul and I am 24 and I am 57 at the same time. It's funny how much those songs have been a part of my life. Fire and Rain. Good Night Sweet Baby James. And everyone in the audience seemed to feel the same. Like something holy was happening, something real and fine. 

So good. And on it went. The Heavy Heavy. Nickel Creek. Maggie Rogers & My Morning Jacket doing a cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Say That You Love Me". Chance Emerson, young dude who grew up in Taiwan and Hong Kong and plays some sweet tunes. Jobi Riccio. The Backseat Lovers! The Hold Steady. And for those who don't realize it, we are all The Hold Steady. Jason Isbell. Angel Olson. Jon Batiste and Friends. 

Now that was something else. He said, many times, that the show was not a concert. 

I was a spiritual practice. 

I believe that to be so. I know it is. Same goes for theatre, Lana Del Rey, writing, The Earls of Leicester, gardening, Madison Cunningham, Remi Wolf, taking long walks, The Black Opry Revue, writing in my journal, moving to NYC, Los Lobos & Neko Case, Gregory Alan Isakov, moving to Denver, Billy Strings who I am fairly certain has a little door to the cosmos in his mind lets the spirits in who guide his playing. 

All of it if a spiritual practice.

So. I walked and rocked and swayed and swung, and now I am gearing up to journey on to Edinburgh Scotland to present a show I directed and act in a the largest theatre festival in the world. 

You can read about it here:

https://www.westword.com/arts/local-creative-team-premieres-eigg-the-musical-at-the-edinburgh-festival-fringe-17324241

And here:

https://igg.me/at/eiggmusical/x/3385268#/

More on Eigg later today. I plan on doing part 2 of this little jaunt from the airport. 

For now, Rock-a-by Sweet Baby Jane, Keep on Rockin' in the Free World, and don't forget to Feel the Earth Move Under your Feet.

 

THE YEAR OF THINKING MAGICALLY

It was Groundhog Day yesterday. I am told it was snowing a lot in Pennsylvania where Punxsutawney Phil does his thing. I always thought it was some remnant from native culture, but according the to internet, which these days doesn't mean a lot, it is an old Christian thing from Germany. Which is kind of weird. Predicting weather from animals just seems so pagan to me. So fun. I don't associate a lot of fun pastimes with ancient Christianity during the Dark Ages.

But I digress.

It was snowing. Hard. And as such, the big rodent stayed in its hole, signifying more winter. Or maybe more social distancing. Or more crazy folks saying there are Jewish space lasers starting forest fires. 

Any and all of those sound about right to me.

But I am a semi-magic thinker. I believe in Bigfoot and UFOs and ghosts. 

Don't get me wrong. I also dig science, know the world is a globe, and am certain there is no cabal of Satan worshipping baby killing elites out there.

When magical thinking goes becomes a format for justifying your world views, its time to give it up. Any belief system that ignores the clear reasons for things like economic inequality and points folks towards made up Boogie Men and Boogie Women is, it seems to me, obvious manipulations of the masses for political gain. 

And that sucks.

Magic thinking should be something fun to do when you're out in the woods and think you heard a Sasquatch, not a reason to storm the Capitol and kill someone with a fire extinguisher.

I wonder if those folks who think there are devil worshipping baby eaters are just finding a way to redirect their unexpressed and sublimated empathy for all the suffering children in the world who are actually in distress due to policies and corporations they have endorsed and supported? 

I hope so. I would humanize them a bit.

So yeah, I believe there will be more of this Winter of Our Discontent. 

But it will pass. I think this summer will be glorious. I think most of us have had enough of the fear and loathing and anger and dismay that have run rampant across the globe. We may have to hunker down for six more weeks. We may have to endure more feckless memes about Sleepy Joe and the Squad and who knows what else. We will probably have to read more about Bobert and Greene and the Orange One himself. 

But I think something has changed inside of us this winter. I think our souls have been tempered and strengthened. 

What has changed will reveal itself in good time.

I can't wait.

Until then, I will be in my own little hole with Phil, Sasquatch, Yeti, and Nessie.

Here's a song. It's Office of Love by Caamp. (yes, it's spelled with two "a"s. And it's groovy)