OurMoney Fair

It's taken me a week to recover from the Harmony Fair. Strangely, it was difficult for a number of reasons. I hesitate to rant (law of attraction and all) but I was strangely affected. Dealing with a health issue that kept me in a steady state of physical discomfort colored my lenses, surely. With that in mind, I give myself some slack for writing the following:
Sometimes I just get so tired of commerce. I love energy exchange, the give and take pulse that charges us up but I felt more of the take and almost none of the give. My fire was not being kindled. The vibe sucked. Literally, it milked me. An incongruent materialism dominated. If you aren't into spending then you just aren't in. I definitely wasn't. A lot of my people didn't even go because of the prohibitive cost. At the gate a day pass was $37 adults/$20 kids age 6 to 12. Yow! In fact, I didn't see as many local folks at all. Who were all those people? The music was so loud that often I couldn't talk to my friends out on the grass, which has always been one of the key pleasures, hanging out with my community. We had to migrate to beyond the bathrooms to put a physical block between ourselves and the sound waves just to be able to hear each other. A lot of booze. Redundant imports. Too much cool. Not enough community. Bottom line was, I wasn't nourished by the experience and will have to contemplate long and hard about attending again. End rant.

The highlights were being inspired by some fellow artists at the Transformational Art Village, hanging out with dear friends, touching base with folks I hadn't seen in awhile, deep conversations about art, watching the kids play and seeing Ricki Lee Jones. Poetess, radical visionary and epitome of true cool she, who I've been listening to for over 25 years. It was great to see her live though the sound system screwed her over, fuzzing out her whimsical nuanced voice. Oh, well.