Apologies for hardly any pics, but for almost five days I was just immersed in the van life gathering that several (biased) people said is the best in the country. I had thought it was primarily a music festival based on the website, but really it’s a fun hang with fellow travelers. If you want to see the vibe, go to thenorthwestnomads.com. There IS music every night, and they were all quite good. A new friend suggested I make a travel-log playlist of the musicians I discover as I go. Stay tuned for that!
I learned a great deal about this lifestyle; other gatherings, helpful apps, etc, but most of all I enjoyed being around new, fun people. I wasn’t three decades older than everyone else, either.
We started things off with a Silly Olympics. My only context for such a thing was Monty Python’s Silly Walk competition. It was indeed silly, and some of the activities happened before we could figure out what we were doing, but everyone was comfortable with confusion. We were asked to go back to our rigs and dress up in the silliest stuff we had, because we were about to have a fashion show and air guitar challenge. I was astonished at the “unessential” things people kept in such space-compromised vehicles. A full frog suit. Multiple banana suits. Fairie wings. One thing I had plenty of was reusable bags. I threaded them onto my arms and put on my pajamas and did my best Vogue. Turns out I was a finalist! Then it was a tie-breaker between me (Bombastic Blake) and Passionate Page, a nine year-old. The prize was an expensive portable shower. It appropriately went to Page, but that was quite an introduction to the community.
Later that night, a couple did an intimate, un-amplified set by the fire. Check out “Fort Vine”. While I’m on it, also listen to Kat Hall and Emily Brimlow. A fabulous local band was Bake Club but I don’t think they’re on the streamers. I finally went full abandon dancing to their music.
We had a “Makers Market” where people could share their creative endeavors. There were essential oils, astrology readings, jewelry, aphorisms on rocks and the like. The second day I brought out my keyboard and played jazz tunes. Suddenly I had someone with a snare and hi-hat accompanying me and dancers! The whole gathering was like that; spontaneous expressions of joy.
Of course there was an open mic, so of course I signed up. After the Silly Olympics I had to bring back Never Too Old to be Silly from the Circle of Life album, and this was just the crunchy crowd to appreciate the Avocado Song. It inspired a group to go have a guac party. And later that night, after I had crawled into bed to stay warm, the last band gave me a shout-out for it.
Day after day I met people who had found a way to embrace living on the road, working or not, but all dedicated to being their authentic selves. There were travelers who looked to me like teenagers, doing it on the front end, and retirees like me doing it on the back end. And of course folks in the middle, finding ways to make a living and see the country at the same time. One person with whom I was saying how I feel like I’m in a new chapter of my life said, “If you’re doing it right, you’re always in a new chapter.” Nice.
A friend emailed me about a meditation retreat in San Diego, which could work with my itinerary. I looked up the teacher; Dr Joe Dispenza. Apparently he’s enjoying a huge success with his repackaging of Buddhist wisdom and updated scientific terms like “neuroscience" and “quantum field”. You are accurately picking up my skepticism. But! Fort Vine, who did the acoustic set, introduced a song called Brighter Path by referencing a book by Dispenza called “How to Break the Habit of Being Yourself”. The songwriter had been listening to his own negative self-talk and had been in a bad place, but had pulled himself out of it by training himself to truly believe his imagined vision of his best life. The rest of the gathering seemed to have this theme underlying many of the conversations. I found it unsettling. I think this concept is the same root to many self-actualization programs; EST, The Forum, Neurolinguistic Programming to name a few. Of course one must visualize, truly believe it possible and do the work to achieve a dream. The challenge for me has always been whether I actually want to do the work. Is the dream actually something I truly want? It’s great to imagine greatness, but just how important is it to make the attempt? I love making music, but to be honest I didn’t dream big and make the attempt to manifest those early dreams. I wanted to be a concert pianist, but I REALLY wanted to be a well-rounded musician, not someone who focused on winning competitions and spending my whole life in the practice room. And even if I did, would it have been worth the sacrifice? I imagined myself with an extraordinary physique, but REALLY I was fine with being average. Or was I? Have I been talking myself out of dreaming a big dream my whole life? So yes, it’s unsettling.
It’s mostly unsettling at this point in my life because of the ‘freedom' thrust upon me from losing Sharon and the freedom (without quotes) of not having to be working towards financial independence. What I do and where I go is now entirely up to me. If I REALLY wanted to, I could pick a dream and go for it. Write a symphony? Become a master at electronic music? Or make a sandwich and climb a mountain…
While I’m on it, I could envision for myself a whole new me, not tied to the personality, momentum and routine of all those years being a music teacher for kids. I could start using swear words! omg ;)
Most of how I see myself is completely defined by my relationship with Sharon, forged over 40 years. Being out of my “normal life” and being on the road is accelerating self-exploration and discovery. And it is causing me to question whether I want to shed some of those aspects. And I’m realizing that yes, I do. I can’t name them, but I can envision a self that is more confident, assertive and unapologetic about how I present myself. I am not in control of other people’s opinions of me, so I might as well trust myself.
I’m writing from Olympic National Forest, at Seal Rock Campground. Hardly anyone is here. I went for a walk by the water and saw a floating dock chock full of harbor seals napping and belching. I’m getting comfortable with being by myself or being with a crowd. I like the direction this is going.
