Happy As A Lark

My Tiny Cube of Space
Merit
9:31 am
Thrusday, June 30, 2005

Happy As A Lark

I finally did it: rememebered how to be happy in the realm outside of Bonnaroo. I mean truely, deeply, down in your soul happy. And it's fantastic.

I'm beginning to understand what it was that made Bonnaroo such a transcendent expereince. I think I may start being able to put it into words. There was a such a simplisity. Everyone had come, complete with provisions, to just exist in this space, with friends, caring for each other, to have as much fun as humanly possible. There were good times, and some not so super, but over all we all perservered and jammed onward. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, like profound wisdom, or the earth from which shining examples of life have sprung, but here's the good part. Everyone was completely real, and completly unafraid. Let me clarify: unafraid, unpressured by the inconviences, hassles, bills, and stresses of everyday life. Just existing. It was beautiful.

There was a simplisity to everything as well. A pureness, as if all the trappings of the outside world had been stripped away. Instead of being a group of people, secluded from the real world, way out in the middle of nowhere, we were the real world. The outside was the different, odd while we were the true. The example of this is the dankest cup of coffee I'd ever had. Saturday morning, I stumble from my tent, and start doing everything my power to take care of myself, and ready myself for the bling that was to be that everning/afternoon. Yonder Mountain String Band, Umprhree's McGee, Particle, Keller Williams, Trey Anastasio, Wide Spread Panic, Karl Denson's Tiny Universe, and de la Sol. It was easy to be feel overwhelemed by the peole, place, fun, life of it all. I changed clothes, smoked a cigarette, and Bryan, Erica and I hiked off to the water box to attempt a toilette of some sort. Half an hour later, I'm cleanish, fresh, kinda cold, but happy. Then, I see this sign: "DANK COFFEE." I persuaded Erica to buy one for me (Best $2 I ever spent.) and it was liquid magic. French press coffee that had been cooking over a camp stove for lord knows how long, with cream and raw sugar. And then we went back to the campsite, and I sat on the roof of the car with Bryan, smoking, and talking.

And that was it. There were conversations that spanned many topics, there was laughter, and joy. But the simple needs, urges and drives of daily life were stripped away, leaving the simplistic joys of life: talking, eating, sleeping, washing, walking. We quickly learned that one spot of ground is just about as good as any other, and there no need to go over there, since we're already here. We learned to be.

I also learned to approach everyone as an individual, despite their inclusion in this giant mass of dirty hippies. (Or early fucks. Those seemed to be the two over riding catagories of folk.) But each one was different: varied talismans, hair, scarves, drugs, shoes, degrees of dirtiness, friends, jam style, musical taste. But each unique, special, loved. Since then I find myself looking people, just general people, in the eye more, taking them in as individuals and loving them too. I loved every single Bonnaroovian, sprawled out in the grass, and I'm starting to learn to love everyone making the morning commute. I am a sociologist, and I continue to classify, sort and attempt to understand the world in terms of social forms, but I've gained a deeper understanding and appreciation to what it means to be an individual that makes up those complex constructs.

There was also an over abundance of happy. The place wasn't perfect, there were things, aspects, situations and peole who sucked, but everyone smiled through it and went on with the festivus. This characteristic is harder to bring into the real world, a harder lesson to translate into life lesson. We sludged through rain, smelled bad, didn't shower, slept in the damp, almost on the ground . .. And loved it. So what if I have to wait for the bus? It's a beautiful day and I have a lovely cup of coffee to drink, and a good book to read while I wait.

And I saw the same thing, only with less pure happy, on the train this morning. I realized the greatness of my situation, and the joy to be found therein. Yes, I work in artificial light, have a long commute, and am generally too tired to do much when I get home. Yes, there are six kittens, and one momma cat living in my kitchen. Yes, my back hurts, I want a nap and I don't know how I'm going to pay all my assundry bills. But, I'm happy.

I sat next to a woman on the train who was kinda amazing. At training last night (For Summer Links, after the week of initial training we do to get to know each other and more about Chicago and over arching themes of social justice in those specific contexts, we have training every Wednesday and Friday. On Wednesdays we have dinner, and meet in small groups to talk about work, and then someone presents on a social issue and we discuss it. Last nigth was foster care. I recommitted myself to opening my home to foster care, especially for Deaf children, once I have the resources. It was an eye-opening experience, and gave me some ideas of things to do at Merit. So, I'm on the Green Line this morning, and the lady I sit next too is on the phone. I would say she was a 30-ish year old women, nicely dressed, probably for the office, african-american, with a love of colors. I don't know her relation to the person she spoke with, but she was telling them about spending time with someone she loves, and their foster parents. They also discussed visiting times. (Please don't think I was evesdropping. I was reading my book, drinking my coffee, but I couldn't help to overhear snippets. Plus, I watch people, you know that.) Then she pulled out her book, "The Purpose Driven Life" and re-read old answers, especially the ideas about what to do when "God Seems Distant." I was touched. I don't know who this woman is, I don't know her situation, but I wish her luck. She seemed to have thing well in hand; she seemed to be moving forward.

And as I looked around, I realized that, hopefully, I could say that about most of the people on the El if I had happened to sit down next to them. It was a lovely realization, coupled with the surge of joy I feel in Chicago, in the morning. And the more I looked, the more people I was able to see for who they seem to be individually, not as a collective catagory. And it was beautiful.

And now I'm at work, ready to do my part. I got to be the Symphony fairy yesterday, calling young pianists and their families, giving away free tickets to see the Chicago Symphony Orchestra at Ravinia this Friday. I love my job.

So, I finally figured it out -- at least a part of it. I'm not a Bonnaroo, but I'm still Happy As A Lark.