Festivals are different organisms all together. The collection of a community is always an interesting dynamic but when any combination of festivities, music, drugs/alcohol, and collectiveness is present at a certain event, the subculture picks up very particular rules. I’ve been blessed with experiencing a wide swath of those gatherings. Oktoberfest on Spanish Weekend, Mardi Gras, Electronic Zoo, Governors Ball, DirtyBird Campout [#Pinkezup]

Music Festivals, and electronic festivals in particular, get super strange. A weird cross of some of the most out-casted and eccentric come out in full force, plus a huge party crowd and music fans, all sharing a common experience.

And everyone’s on drugs. [Oh, just me? Crap.]

It’s pretty hardcore.

I’ve somehow, through a little effort of my own, seem to have found myself on the other side of the combination. Where I was once the gawky, awkward, insecure, friendless noob; I’ve become the old festival hand, pack filled with water, fanny with supplies, ratty bandana, in compression socks. Easy vibes, relentless high fives, and wildly energetic dancing.

It’s probably the drugs.

They opened my mind, not the metaphysical but the commonality of human dynamics. We’re a strange group of upright mammals, burdened with an unending social and personal consciousness. We can neither ignore it completely, nor master its complexities. Dulled or enhanced by whatever substances; music, alcohol, acid, nicotine, lights, costumes and makeup, dancing, each other; we are still looking out the corner of our eyes, desperately trying to read the others mind, and our own.

I kept thinking of fractals [duh], where the patterns repeat infinitely, forward and backwards. If people aren’t that different, between the 10 billion of us and the billions before and yet-to-come, we are just echoing each other. No one’s original, everyone had the same problems, nothing matters. [Come watch TV]

People are afraid of their own weird. I promise I spent a lot of my adolescent in quiet, personal fear. The introspective naysayers are still not quite completely silenced.

Festivals, particularly the more eclectic ones, give us an opportunity to embrace, even flaunt our unique brand of strangeness.

I think most importantly, we find that our deep interestingness, individuality is not only accepted but sincerely complemented. It even becomes normalized! And we find ourselves more appreciative of others. In awe of their fearlessness. Amazed by their creativity. Entranced by their dance moves, courageously stomped out in the desert sand.

Look. We’re not that different. I promise. Against the crazy, strange, unbelievable gulfs of time, distance, cultures, whatever, between King Tut, Shakespeare, Ghandi, Masamune, you, me, and that other guy; it turns out we’re all human beings. There’s this enormous commonality, that if it isn’t physically there, it’s emotionally. Socially. It’s undeniable.

It’s easy, joyous even, to engage in it. The fantastic person you are, is valuable and beautiful and festivals [really large celebrations in general] are that affirmation we’ve never believed.

The complicated concoction of festival culture fosters creativity and kindness, and that manifests a uniquely accepting community. It’s a kind and sharing environment where all our weirdness is waved on flagpoles and everyone’s all in on the drop. I think festivals most of all give me hope. Not only in all of you, but also in myself.

We’re working on it, even if working sometimes looks like camping in a desert, slapping wine bags and waving our hands in the air. It doesn’t make much sense, but it’s not supposed to. Serious is overrated, keeping giving off your vibe. I’m just going to dance it out. By myself if I have too. Watch me, or peek it from your peripherals, or ignore. I don’t care. I won’t care. I’m my own world’s entire, and that’s perfectly enough.