Something happened along the way (Originally published on August 14, 2006)

A year ago, I thought it funny. Stories of men and women who jump off the grid. They become successful in the ways their society measures success and just stop. I don't find it as funny any more.

I have not quite attained the desired ends. I still have several personal milestones of success I have not yet reached but I've gained some cruising altitude. Given some time, I will reach my destination. I see no more challenge in it. Perhaps that's the problem.

It was never about money or status. I don't care about either. It was about accomplishment. Looking back on a body of work and knowing it is yours. Knowing the energy that went into it. But then, the job is complete and I have to look for another milestone. It is my nature. I have to keep going. But now I seem to have lost the destination.

Somewhere between the mundane of living debt free and the colossal of rebuilding this city, I don't see any goals. I could never chase a promotion or desire money as an end.

The only thing I am left with is getting to know my fellow humans. There just seems to be something wrong with considering that a goal. Getting to know people is something I always thought of as just happening. Viewing people as an objective seems dehumanizing to me.

For now, I will just retire to my books and my pen.

A conversation by a fence (Originally published on August 20, 2006)

Man 1: If there going to call it a Folk Festival, they should play mostly folk music.
Man 2: It doesn't matter to me what they play as long as it's good.

This was repeated in essence with different analogies for at least an hour. I did not chime in as I sat in my chair a few feet away. I had discovered something in the moment I heard the counter-play: it isn't about the music. Not for me anyway. I realized later, it never was. I hadn't really ever gone for the folk music, not really. Ani Difranco was the performer that got me to buy the tickets 4 years ago. I've never considered Ani folk but then again, I don't put things into genres.

This year, I really didn't see that much of the concerts. It is physically impossible to witness them all. I would have to estimate that I spent only 6 hours in front of a stage. It was the activity that occurred in the campsite that interested me more. That was amazing.

Dozens of moments are circulating in my mind, but one seems to want airing more than the rest. As many were, I was wearing glow sticks during the nighttime hours. I stumbled across a drum circle and began to dance. A young lady approached me and asked if she could have one of my glow sticks. As I had three and she had none, I gave one to her. She said "Thank you" and then she said "I knew you would. Hippies always share."

I was taken aback. Me? A hippy? I think back now and realize I must have looked the part. Dancing around a drum circle, unshaven, covered in dust. It was not really until I arrived in my world of concrete and steel that all the pieces came together. It's not about the music or the parties, it's about the world as it can exist. It's about a place where people share. It's about a place where you can walk up to anyone and start a conversation. It's about a place where you can leave your personal belongings by a tent and have complete confidence they will be there when you return. It's about a place where everyone walks everywhere. It's about a place where free expression is encouraged.

If wishing that place could exist year round makes me a hippy, than I am honored to be called one.

I think I'm starting to get it (Originally published on August 20, 2006)

I have spent several weeks unsure. Something had changed. I just didn't know what. I began to doubt the path I had taken. I began trying new approaches. I began to conceive myself differently.

I returned from my third Philadelphia Folk Festival today and realized I was not the same person that went the previous two times. There was no concern about being alone this time. There were no thoughts of decorum or acceptance. I didn't worry about "acting my age".

During the last year, a process started. I am not sure what triggered it although I do have my thoughts on the subject. I am becoming free. I'm not sure how far along the process has gone but it is now perceivable. The awkwardness I have always felt around my fellow humans is slowly going away. The fear of rejection or whatever it was that has caused me to label myself "A Social Retard" is going away. I still can't read body language and I'm not the world's best conversationalist, but I stopped caring about those things.

I have always thought of myself as free. I have my own world view. My own ethics. I have never let the popular opinion shape my own views. But I was inhibited. I did care what others thought of me, I just didn't admit it. Maybe one day I won't care what others think. In the meantime, I'm just going to accept that I do.