One day, the deep and noble abyss, with whom Blue has spent decades cultivating a relationship, started staring back at her. She kept seeing flashes of a white buffalo on the hills, but did not understand. Speaking to Bleu with a kind compassion the abyss offered, “Follow your faith, for this is the mother womb from which all life grew, grows and flows. Follow your bliss thread and take a chance on Beloved.” She came in like the wind, and like the blessed noble nothingness, disappeared. “Everything is nothing with a twist. In this world of trouble, this is a solution,” she whispered as she went.
Blue had no clue. Though other tasks were begging for attention, he decided to take the journey. With the fortitude of a rainbow warrior resolute, he opened his heart. “Nothing is more important than building the rainbow bridge,” the noble abyss, which he affectionately referred to as ‘the Mothers’ said to him gently. “Spread the magic of the unity consciousness movement and bring in the new dawn. Beloved is more than a music festival. More so, it is a conscious space for the bringers of the new dawn to imagine and create a new and better reality.” So, Blue decided to stay true to his spirit guidance, followed the threaded clues to Tidewater, Oregon to help build the dream, manifest more truth. Blue called for Beloved and the Beloved called for Blue. He set his intentions, and away on his magic carpet he flew.
Tucked away nicely in a magical mountain wonderland full of wild blackberries ripe for the picking and yellow brick roads leading wherever your imagination was brave enough to go. Immediately Blue felt surrounded by wonderful soul family, a community of people stepping into their full power and fully embracing their spirit calling is so special, supportive and peaceful. The power of Beloved was palpable.
Meteors flying overhead could be seen after dusk as the clear moonless, cloudless Cascadia night sky presented herself to the gatherers. Blue felt closer to the immense infinity, the home of the Mothers, after arriving at Beloved. Though the terrain was foreign she felt at home, ensconced in the loving arms of Pachamama, or Gaia, our blessed mother Earth, who prays for her people daily, rejoicing in this their remembrance. The huge cedars, captivating Blue’s imagination. She felt uniquely familiar with this tree medicine that had been absent from her life for so long. “Hello, old friends,” she said in remembrance of something just out of reach of her conscious mind. She embraced the behemoth trees, giving thanks and praises. They loved her too.
Blue landed at Beloved Thursday with the ball in the sky still high. She set up camp along Sufi Path near the base of the main festival ground. The main stage was located between the Far mosque, atop the top of the hill, and the Near Mosque on the other side of the ridge. It is a circle on a mountainside with the stage near 6 o’clock, if the reader is looking at this like Black Rock City, but without any playa dust or desert sprawl.
After setting up camp, Blue went to peruse her new heavenly habitat. Getting familiar with the lay of the land, she ran into Karl Baba, a sage man she had befriended in cyberspace, but had never had the honor of meeting in 3-D. Blue looked up to Baba, grateful for the opportunity to meet him in 3-D reality.
That evening Blue went to the Purple Star Temple, just behind the main stage. There he saw Jaya Lakshmi and Ananda chanting mantras and singing kirtan. And there she remained until the end of the performance, entranced and entrained upon the holy names of God. They performed some other transcendental tunes, helping to build the bridge a bit stronger and longer.
There was a water prayer ceremony held at The Secret Lake. Calling her essence with candlelight and the soft percussion of the djembe, Blue moved to the lake behind the Purple Star Temple. The congregation sang prayers of thanksgiving to the water, blessing it with their love and consecrating the fluid that would keep these bodies hydrated during the festival.
This is a world of wonder, Blue thought, where the many worlds within each of us merge with the spirit of Pachamama, the spirit of the community and the Spirit of the Divine Mother Creator. These all converge in a perfect Trinity at Beloved. It is occasions like this, Blue thought, that is helping to manifest the dream of movement into peaceful coexistence within and all along this pristine pale blue dot in the infinity of the Great Abyss. She had not managed to make any solid connections with humans, so she strolled through the hills with spirit by her side, in her divine mind and all around.
After the lighting of the sacred fire that burned throughout the entirety of the gathering, Blue trekked to the Temple of Awe. Along the way she sat down to rest. As she lay back to inhale a huge meteor shot low across the midnight sky. Then, another star left a tracer, then another and another. Blue unplanned by her, but planned by the Mothers, witnessed the magic of the Perseid meteor shower. She counted 11 shooting stars while there she lay. “Magic is in the air today,” she thought to herself.
“There is a movement happening, a shifting. This is helping us wake the dream into reality,” thought this lady Bleu. “This is an awesome awakening of consciousness,” she told herself. “A golden age is blooming right before our very fluid reality.” Blue knew it was true. The sensitivity to and affects of subtle energies on the minds and in the hearts, and within the souls of humanity is unfolding before her beautifully eager eyes. “We must remain steadfast on our search for truth,” she thought.
This nascent numinous age of Aquarius is opening our collective body, heart, mind and soul to the divine nature inherent in all. It can be likened to Plato’s, “The Cave.” If you do not recall, the human is looking at their shadow cast on the cave wall. This person mistakes their shadow for its pure and highest self. Well, now we are realizing our shadow is just that, a mere shadow of our true divine self. Remember. You are an infinite being of light; divine, eternal and bright. It is your destiny to be the grandest version of the highest vision you ever had of who you are.
Friday started late as Blue did not sleep much in the previous 48 hours. Naturally. Naturally meaning her sensitivity to the energy and its complimentary natural high kept her up. It was not a cocktails of chemicals that perturbed the senses, but kirtan. Prayers in the name of ‘the Mothers’ kept her vibing out of control, and the feeling of being so provided for. She soon saw that Beloved has no alcohol for sale. It has so much to share in ways of natural highs, alcohol, or anything else, seemed wasteful and unnecessary. Etched in the bamboo bowls, the ubiquitous reusable eating-ware, were the knowing words, “In this food I clearly see the presence of the universe supporting my existence.” Quotes from Rumi, Alan Watts, Krishnamurti and other super-conscious thinkers were hung in the porta-potties with care..
After she awoke Blue ran to and perambulated through the cornucopia of crystal gardens delicately designed for the activation of all sensitive souls. She was contemplating their creation in the primordial days of Pachamama, the pressure and heat necessary to form such beautifully conscious points and clusters, when suddenly the Mothers told her to go to the Purple Star Temple. Michael Meade was speaking. His speech, entitled “Golden Repair of the World” was riveting.
The center fractured in Blue’s life long ago. Living on the edge has been her home for so long, she forgot what the center felt or even looked like, but she knew all broken roads lead you home eventually, so long as the will remains in full, and the dream retains its pull. Blue knew you have to go to the edge to find the thread of your soul, the thread of your imagination, and the thread of your destiny to weave this wayward world back together.
Being so focused on healing her fractured self for so long and having not watched Tell-lie-vision (TV) for well over a decade, the worries of the Matrix world drifted away. She did not have time to waste. She decided long ago to be true to herself above all. Only responsible for Bleu’s own thread, she started dream-weaving. Even though it is all woven together in a beautiful living tapestry, and all the paths lead to the same end, it is integral we each find our thread and follow it with faith and without fear. Blue knew it is all about the path and the perception held through the journey, embracing her divine mind, while climbing the mountain of life as the ascension of consciousness. This is an important epoch in the history of humanity. WE cannot wait for anyone to take the lead. Beloved and festivals like it are the leaders in this powerful movement of destiny.
“What a blessed journey. We are seeded and aimed at a unique destiny,” she thought. Hopeful to succeed in doing what she came here to do, Blue knew deep in her heart Beloved was a sacred stop on her trek. “We don't have to worry about fixing the world,” his divine mind now heeding the chorus of voices in his head. “Heal yourself,” it beckoned. “Rewire yourself, then you can, through your example, rewire the world! And stay OUT OF THE WAY. You are merely a vessel for the truth. Give thanks and praises always. As quickly as you are called so can you be abandoned. If you act like a cub, spirit will treat you like a cub, and you will have to fend for yourself for a time. Do not be wild and reckless. It is no way to play as a seeker.”
Blue then strolled over to the Global Song Workshop with Leah and Chloe, the fabulous sister duo better known as Rising Appalachia. Rising Appalachia is talking the talk, walking the walk, and teaching and empowering the rest to do the same. To witness, partake and help everyone wake is just a small piece of their magic. This was freeing, liberating and creativity in action. Some people surrendered to the moment, overcome by the freeing release of pent up emotion. It was there while singing and dancing with the soul family that Blue had an epiphany. The spiritual apartheid on this pristine planet is coming to an end. Rising Appalachia is playing a leading role in the ending this spiritual apartheid.
Enraptured by the thrill of the spirit of the moment, Bleu stayed still. He did not move his body or his mind. The spirit spoke again, saying, “There is an epic metamorphosis happening right now that is holy and righteous. The duality paradigm is falling, like the house of cards that it is. It is being overtaken. With the arrival of the new paradigm of unity consciousness comes many changes. The Powers That Were (the Matrix), with their implements of propaganda, did their best to convince us that we can be contained in our caterpillar skins by cubicles, fiat currencies, and social security numbers. We cannot be confined. We must not be confined by the bars of complacency or restrained by the handcuffs of fear. Now the crysallis is being broken open by the wings of the Beloved. Arise and listen to the soothing sounds of Saratone.”
Saratone prayed to the four directions, the sacred mountains of the four directions and dropped some serious Cascadia Aloha vibes on Bleu and all at the Temple of Awe. Bleu could feel the loving vibrations of her voice and the truth in her words. Again he could not move, Bleu was glued to his seat in the grass. Saratone then shared the stage with her sister Amber Lily. Then, she shared the stage with her partner Tubby Love and before you knew it we were all building up zion together. NO more chanting down Babylon, we must focus our attention on the answer. The problem is clear and present. The remedy we must seek with a genuine heart meek of self.
Friday was over and Bleu went to watch the eternal fire burn. There is something about watching the fire burn with your eyes that can help her feel the fire within burn inside. Porangui, whose presence at Beloved was so valuable, important , and appreciated, was singing and beating his djembe by the fire. Blue was feeling as though something was missing. She felt almost home. She was close to home, but missing something. She felt lost in the multitudes of a strange soul family she was only just remembering and meeting… again.
Blue went straight to the main stage Saturday to watch the Hanumen sing and chant. She knew John, Praha, and Vish from Floydfest. and was eager to introduce himself to Benji and Goro, the lead vocalist of the kirtan chanting, dulcimer playing enlightened band of Hindi seekers. Rising Appalachia played next under the Pachamama stage. Magical again. It was the third time she had been in their presence in less than 12 hours.
Charles Eisenstein came on the main stage next and absolutely touched her heart. She could see his words touching others as her eyes wandered through the crowd. He delivered a message of truth, compassion and love about power, privilege, white privilege to be exact, and justice. He delicately explained how it is the responsibility of the powerful and privileged to share with all those less fortunate as a path toward equality without privilege for anyone, because privilege for some results in hardship for the many. He spoke of justice, respect, and love, and being the ones to overcome this cultural and global blemish that stains our threaded and divine tapestry.
Blue was videotaping the speech, when a colossal African man named Abbazero approached. “Do not stop that video,” he commanded, “and when it is over come with me. We have much work to do. This is only the beginning.” He opened his heart and his mind and obeyed the wishes of this regal man, dressed in all the fashions of an African prince. The Star of David displayed on a few pendants dangling from an array of large stone necklaces, hanging around his neck down to the middle of his chest, and some went all the way down to his waist.
Abbazero, Charles and Blue sat down back stage together and chatted. Well, mostly Abbazero pontificated on white colonialism, the language of privilege inherent in the limited white male perspective, and how to bring more mindful awareness to it in the language of white people. Be color blind with your language to undo much of the damage that has been inflicted by the racism inherent in the language of the white man’s world.
One fantastic example of this in modern society, Blue thought, can be seen when comparing the words of Donald Trump and Colin Kaepernick. Donald says, “Make America great again,” and gets to run for President. Colin refuses to stand for the Anthem and he is suddenly a pariah from the ninth circle of hell, an evil spawn of Satan himself. By using credentials we validate the credentials and the brainwashing that goes along with them. Drop the initials. Open your heart and explore the spirit of togetherness. Deprogram and reprogram. Don’t be blinded by privilege. Do not just talk about it. Be about it. Be the change. These next level messages here, there, floating in the water and sprinkled in the air were on display everywhere with thoughtfulness and intent at Beloved. So touching. So tender. So much love.
Blue met Trevor Hall, saw him perform and was totally blown away by his presence. “What a treat to share and create space with these humble humans on a mission,” she thought to herself. Trevor cut his dreads off a while back and moved away from Hawaii, but his music carries that Aloha flavor mixed in with soft guitar licks laid over lyrics that remind us of our divine sacred nature. It was sublime to drift away in ‘Unity,’ “to that table where we all dine together and pluck me from the crowd and return me to my sender… Whatever path you follow love all, serve all and create no sorrow...If you got love and longing you shall reach the station. Where there’s no more you and me, they or we. Just Unity.”
DakhaBrakha, the Ukranian singers and djembe players absolutely stunned Blue. He didn’t know what hit him. Their outfits were outstanding. He watched Fatoumata Diawara’s performance. Blue was so struck he went backstage to meet her. She is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. Tipper’s trippy screen graphics were awesome, but he just did not seem to fit the bill. Blue thought Nahko and Medicine for the People or Xavier Rudd seemed more complimentary to the Beloved vibes, but she was happy to hear Tipper. The Mothers softly tugged on her spirit, pulling her to the sounds of Spirit Musique. Riveting. Now that she was recognizing the voice of the Mothers for what it was rather than just some crazy voices in her head, she felt more compelled to listen attentively. Ott & The All Seeing I was fantastic. Blue had never seen EDM with a live rock band before. That was something special. So was AtYyA, which must be a mix of his name, lower case, and his plant medicine in upper case.
Most of the Hanume, Jens Jarvie and Paul Mitchell sang kirtan all Saturday night, keeping the vibe high and righteous. Bleu was hypnotized by their mellifluous chanting and the summoning of the divine by calling It by name. Bleu stayed till sleep nearly overcame him.
It was the end of the second day, and although she made some friends, listened to some enlightened speakers and some righteous world-class music Bleu was still feeling an absence. He did not know why he felt this way, but he did and he was with it fully and completely, happily unattached, yet acutely aware. He felt a bit saddened by the situation, but he kept his faith. He knew to be patient and grateful for the flow. Bleu went to the fire to pray, to be fanned by its flames and satisfy that archaic yearning. The Burner in him and in his soul needed to commune with the flame. He returned to his camp on the Sufi path just on the other side of the brush and down a small hill from the kirtan chanting at the Temple of Awe. They chanted the names of God all night long. It was serene, divine, heaven.
Sunday Bleu met the morning as he would usually. He made his quotidian prayer and sat quietly, contemplating the divine self and divine mind inhabiting his body. He saw Youssoupha play his Africn harp, which was fantastic. His speech at the end was just as impressive and heartwarming.
Ott jammed in the middle of the dance floor with all his Beloved friends surrounding him, dancing and jamming to those eclectic electric sounds that seem to be able to activate a merging of consciousness through vibration. It was magical.
Mike Love did his part and so much more to propagate the Cascadia Aloha vibe. His performance was freaking outstanding, Blue thought to herself, as she considered going on a “permanent holiday” herself. Then, remembering she is living the dream, and that is at least part of the definition of a permanent holiday, she sang along smiling. She gave thanks and praises to the resurgent return of the Divine Mother Goddess on full display in the Tidewater hills for her and all those fortunate enough to have created the time and space for Beloved.
Chris Berry, who Bleu had witnessed banging on the djembe at the Temple of Awe on Friday, played with the Bana Kuma Orchestra on the Pachamama stage, facing the main stage. Chris Berry is the magical musical mastermind behind the entire ensemble. Fantastic. Riveting. Scintillating. Absolutely soul shaking! The rest of the orchestra consisted that evening of Tubby Love, Amber Lilly, Reed Grimm, Dave Hoover, and many others, who played their hearts out. All the while Chris Berry’s daughters lead a group of female dancers adorned in all white, except for the Elemental mamas, who wore masks and outfits resembling their force of nature. It was absolutely magical.
Saratone came on stage and prayed to the four sacred mountains of the four directions. She called to Mt. Fuji, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Hood, and Mt. Shasta. Four of the ladies dancing embodied the four sacred elements, while the rest, dressed in all-white, cut up the rug (foam pads, really) confidently to beautifully choreographed dance routines.
Blue danced with the Shakti mamas. She was one of them. She knew it, but was just beginning to realize and remember her true divine self. Blue was just freeing herself from the chrysalis of Babylon. She was spreading her wings in the loving community environment Beloved provided. It was helping her remember.
Then, after exiting the stage a curious male manifested at Blue’s side. She could feel the power of both presences. “One feels like a white wolf or white lioness. The one is a white buffalo. The other one may be as well, but a less realized one, like a wolf. Which one will you feed?” Blue thought. She introduced herself to the white buffalo.
“Hi. Thanks for dancing with us,” said White Buffalo. They embraced.
Blue exclaimed, “Wow.” Then she asked, while still embracing this familiar stranger, “What is that?” There was no hesitation, just authentic, genuine curious expression.
“That’s us connecting,” replied White Buffalo. “You feeling me and me feeling you.” She was pleasantly surprised by his openness, and happy to bear witness. “The connection she felt coming all along is right here before your very eyes,” he thought.
Blue is a Shakti mama waking up to her Shakti essence, and Buffalo can feel it. White Buffalo is a Shiva waking up his Parvati essence, the divine female guidance. Blue can see it in his eyes and feel it in his spirit.
To step into the presence of a woman breaking out of her chrysalis, spreading her wings, and starting to fly is to be in the presence of an angel. Blue did not know what was happening. She did not know where this thread would lead. Happy their threads could weave together, even if just for a beautiful moment she would be. Blue hoped their threads would never part permanently, and White Buffalo knew it. And White Buffalo knew that she knew that he knew she wanted the same. A wonderful weaving of the comical cosmic tapestry is such a beautiful mystery to see and behold, my Beloved.
Together, in blissful beloved beauty, Blue and White Buffalo watched the closing act. The ‘Everybody Band’ was amazing. It was absolutely a perfect finale for a perfect festival. Some of the artists who had stayed at the festival throughout its entirety jumped on stage and jammed together. The music was directed from one stage to the other by a most magnificent director in a resplendent conductor attire most had ever seen, from the Everybody Band on the main stage to the Bana Kuma orchestra with Saratone still in the Pachamama stage, and then back again. They went back and forth in a sort of free style jam session that felt like 15 minutes. It was a huge monster finale that felt like it was never going to end, like it should never end. It was as if the performers and audience had created this space and wanted to keep filling it with the good vibrations, to push into perpetuity. Blue did not want the moment to end, and in that moment she knew that it didn’t have to. She knew that even though she could not make people see the heaven being created in this earthly space she could help them to see it; to imagine it. Blue knew that conventions of society only limit your reality if you let it do so. These conventions are boundaries we intend to and must transcend. Before anything can be transcended you must be able to conceive what it looks like, what it feels like, and why it is your birthright. These are the times to remember. We are the ones we have been waiting for. Believe and receive. In the pocket inside the deepest pocket in your heart have faith in the good things happening. Believe and we will achieve, my Beloved.
Where will the threads lead? Always be open to your path and your journey. Be patient while the process unfolds, and always keep your faith close and your imagination creating. We are building this dream and manifesting it into 3-D now. So mind your thoughts. They create. Choose the good ones. Choose loving and kind words. Choose to serve. Choose to forgive. Choose to be Beloved. Until next time, keep her grateful!