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badseed1980Saturday at Stones Rising was scheduled for the Long Pull. This would involve the hauling of a stone that outweighed the previous night's by half a ton, over a much longer path that began with a long, steep hill. The weather wasn't threatening, it was following through: the morning began with rain that soaked everything outside of a tent, and more was in the post. Still, we had enough of a respite from the rain to gather for a community discussion on the meaning of "Tribe". By this time, I had a good idea of what it meant to me. The people at Stones Rising, even those I didn't know, had become part of my own personal "tribe". We belonged to the same land. We worked together towards common goals. We helped one another out, not because we felt obligated to, but because it only seemed natural. We felt safe with one another, and felt the bond of community more strongly than in most cases where the word is freely tossed around.
There was some news--maybe bad, maybe not--following the discussion. The long pull was not going to happen. Turnout at Stones Rising was lower than usual this year, and Orren didn't think we had enough people to safely and effectively pull such a big stone so far. I was a little disappointed. I had been looking forward to working hard, wearing myself out with the joyous effort of it, and to spending several hours working, talking, and laughing with the other people on the ropes. Now, the stone had been moved up to the High Meadow with a truck, and the pull would take place over a far shorter distance. I thought the rain might still be a problem. However, when we all lined up on the ropes in the meadow, I found out otherwise. As we got ready to pull, Etain, standing in front of us in a great kilt, began to play pipes. The wailing strains floated over the meadow, and gave us the impetus we needed to start off with a tug and a roar. The stone gained momentum so quickly, we found ourselves running with it. With only the barest effort, it was sliding along the grass at a terrific rate. Just as we were thinking how easy it was as we neared the stone circle, a staff member named Marcia slipped and fell. A cry went up to stop the pull. We stopped immediately, hearts in our throats when we heard the urgency in the crew boss's voice. Within a few seconds, though, Marcia was on her feet, embracing the man who had helped her up. A wild, relieved cheer went up, and I felt tears of relief and nameless emotion come to my eyes. The stone had hit Marcia on her backside, leaving a bruise, earning it the two names "Marcia's Bane" and "Marcia's Miracle".
After that, the pull was over in minutes. We applauded ourselves in the circle, marveling at the fact that we were several hours ahead of schedule: the long pull had been planned on taking us until 5:00, and it was only about 1:30.
Having so much time on our hands, we needed something to do. Pete, who I'd met on the ropes Friday night, invited me and my friends down to the "Soggy Bottom" campsite, located in the depths of Big Bottom, for "happy hour". I headed back there with Pete, and my friends said they'd be along soon. The site was beautiful, well-maintained, with candle-lined pathways and bridges to make walking through the mud easier. A big group of people ended up gathering there, drinking, eating, talking, laughing, drumming, dancing, swimming, flirting. I floated for a while in a raft with Pete, talking and cuddling, feeling a little odd but having a good time. By the time we got out of the water, everyone else was gone. We kissed briefly on the path back to his tent, and I went off to shower and head up out of the Bottom.
I missed dinner, but decided to head up to the Coffee Dragons before the night's ritual. I eventually met up with Morgan and my other friends. We headed over to the ritual together. It was a beautiful and moving one, hosted by Stone Creed druidic grove. When it was over, the time had come for the retiring of the flag and the Warriors' Vigil. This was to be an all-night vigil, done in shifts by current and former armed forces members, to honor the men and women serving their country. I was an auxiliary, participating in support of them. The ceremony of retiring the flag was brief, and I felt a little out of place as the Warriors saluted while the stripes were burned. But in solidarity, I placed my hand over my heart while the fabric caught fire. We signed up for shifts afterwards. Morgan selected the 1-3am shift. I was to stand vigil with him in the stone circle.
We stayed at the Coffee Dragons for two hours before our shift, talking to our friends. When 1am came around, we went to the stone circle, where the fire and candles from the ritual still burned. The Warriors would tend the fire and keep the candles lit all night to honor those who served or were currently serving. It was very quiet there in the dark, with the distant sound of drums more of a background than something to listen to. The fire was crackling, and we were alone except for the occasional visitor. We talked quietly, held one another often, and watched the fire. The vigil was for me a kind of meditation shared with Morgan, one that brought us closer together while it helped me to understand my friends and loved ones who served in the military. Morgan told me that they would be as grateful for my support as he was, which moved me deeply.
When Etain came to relieve us at 3am, I was reluctant to go, in spite of my aching back, sore feet, and exhaustion. But we made our way back to camp in the dark, and fell asleep about an hour before dawn lit the sky.
There was some news--maybe bad, maybe not--following the discussion. The long pull was not going to happen. Turnout at Stones Rising was lower than usual this year, and Orren didn't think we had enough people to safely and effectively pull such a big stone so far. I was a little disappointed. I had been looking forward to working hard, wearing myself out with the joyous effort of it, and to spending several hours working, talking, and laughing with the other people on the ropes. Now, the stone had been moved up to the High Meadow with a truck, and the pull would take place over a far shorter distance. I thought the rain might still be a problem. However, when we all lined up on the ropes in the meadow, I found out otherwise. As we got ready to pull, Etain, standing in front of us in a great kilt, began to play pipes. The wailing strains floated over the meadow, and gave us the impetus we needed to start off with a tug and a roar. The stone gained momentum so quickly, we found ourselves running with it. With only the barest effort, it was sliding along the grass at a terrific rate. Just as we were thinking how easy it was as we neared the stone circle, a staff member named Marcia slipped and fell. A cry went up to stop the pull. We stopped immediately, hearts in our throats when we heard the urgency in the crew boss's voice. Within a few seconds, though, Marcia was on her feet, embracing the man who had helped her up. A wild, relieved cheer went up, and I felt tears of relief and nameless emotion come to my eyes. The stone had hit Marcia on her backside, leaving a bruise, earning it the two names "Marcia's Bane" and "Marcia's Miracle".
After that, the pull was over in minutes. We applauded ourselves in the circle, marveling at the fact that we were several hours ahead of schedule: the long pull had been planned on taking us until 5:00, and it was only about 1:30.
Having so much time on our hands, we needed something to do. Pete, who I'd met on the ropes Friday night, invited me and my friends down to the "Soggy Bottom" campsite, located in the depths of Big Bottom, for "happy hour". I headed back there with Pete, and my friends said they'd be along soon. The site was beautiful, well-maintained, with candle-lined pathways and bridges to make walking through the mud easier. A big group of people ended up gathering there, drinking, eating, talking, laughing, drumming, dancing, swimming, flirting. I floated for a while in a raft with Pete, talking and cuddling, feeling a little odd but having a good time. By the time we got out of the water, everyone else was gone. We kissed briefly on the path back to his tent, and I went off to shower and head up out of the Bottom.
I missed dinner, but decided to head up to the Coffee Dragons before the night's ritual. I eventually met up with Morgan and my other friends. We headed over to the ritual together. It was a beautiful and moving one, hosted by Stone Creed druidic grove. When it was over, the time had come for the retiring of the flag and the Warriors' Vigil. This was to be an all-night vigil, done in shifts by current and former armed forces members, to honor the men and women serving their country. I was an auxiliary, participating in support of them. The ceremony of retiring the flag was brief, and I felt a little out of place as the Warriors saluted while the stripes were burned. But in solidarity, I placed my hand over my heart while the fabric caught fire. We signed up for shifts afterwards. Morgan selected the 1-3am shift. I was to stand vigil with him in the stone circle.
We stayed at the Coffee Dragons for two hours before our shift, talking to our friends. When 1am came around, we went to the stone circle, where the fire and candles from the ritual still burned. The Warriors would tend the fire and keep the candles lit all night to honor those who served or were currently serving. It was very quiet there in the dark, with the distant sound of drums more of a background than something to listen to. The fire was crackling, and we were alone except for the occasional visitor. We talked quietly, held one another often, and watched the fire. The vigil was for me a kind of meditation shared with Morgan, one that brought us closer together while it helped me to understand my friends and loved ones who served in the military. Morgan told me that they would be as grateful for my support as he was, which moved me deeply.
When Etain came to relieve us at 3am, I was reluctant to go, in spite of my aching back, sore feet, and exhaustion. But we made our way back to camp in the dark, and fell asleep about an hour before dawn lit the sky.
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no subject
Date: 2003-09-16 12:14 pm (UTC)I may wrap your posts into one word document, and make commentary that I expand into my review.
I love the way you write about it. It makes me cry with joy.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-16 12:24 pm (UTC)You really are sweet, you know that? I love you.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-16 12:32 pm (UTC)Unless you count the poetry, which was often dark and remorseful, dealing with losing/not getting the woman I wanted. lol
no subject
Date: 2003-09-16 12:37 pm (UTC)My poetry on that kind of subject always sucked. I wish I could sing like you. So there. :P