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| Article Specs|
Article ID: 4602
Age Group: Adult
Posted: August 7th. 2002
Sirius Rising 2002 (2)
by Don Waterhawk
Something else made a notable impact on me this year at Brushwood. Something that had been there last year, but somehow I missed it. The DigeDome... And after experiencing this year, I can't believe I missed is last year, and will not miss it next year. Grandfather Daveed had invited me to come down and check out the scene, so to speak. So, I walked down one night to what appeared to be a mini-roundhouse at the other end of the field. I could barely make out the fire through the tapestries hanging from the wood structure, and walking closer, I heard the delightful sound of the Didgeridoo, but not just one, or just a couple, but once I could see clearly there appeared to be 10 or more playing, along with a few other instruments. I stood there and noticed that all the people playing, were not stepping on top of each other, instead they were giving equal space with their sounds. And the sounds were entrancing, what was coming out of the dome was a dancers dream, a dreamers serenade. It was so sweet, so gentle, but having the strength to take you where you wanted to go. It seemed that I had found a new home for what my spirit wanted. I find it interesting within the pagan/neo-pagan/heathen/reconstructionalist community that we play music from all countries, but not our own. We play African music, but few of us are African, we play Middle Eastern music, but most of us are not Middle Eastern, we play Caribbean/South American music, but most of us are not that either. You get the drift...? But what about American drumming and music. Well, we are a diverse people, right? Well, at the Didge Dome, I heard it. The Diversity came together, got mixed, kneaded, left to rise, put in the oven, baked at 350 for 2 hours, and presto, a new sound. It was a music that was shared with equal space and tone, that the Conga's did not drown out the Didge's, the Gong did not overpower the Mandolin, the Dumbeck was heard alongside the Djembe. All these instruments (and more) were being played next to each other, no one better than another, no one faster, or louder, or egoer (hey I made the last word up, but you get it, right?). I live to play with people like that, Dancers live to dance to magic like that. In looking at the faces around the circle of the Didge Dome, all were quiet, just sitting there in awe of what was coming into their spirits. People, do not miss the Didge dome next year, or any time. There's a new music, a new sound coming out of the community, one that has been played quietly, up until now. I trust that someone will come up with a good name for this, it will make it easier to describe. In talking to Jason, the Didge-Dome facilitator, he let me know of the plans to make the dome bigger for more people, as he has seen the wanting of the people, as they discover this Sacred Space. So thank you Jason, and the Didge-Domers, thank you for turning the light on and letting us see the newness.
And to bestow Honor...Respect... Gratitude to the Fire Trybe (Firetenders). Well... that would seem way to small of a gift to give these people who do soooooooooo much work for the community. These too are the Grandparents of the Fire Circle, working their Magic and Medicine within the circle. Or I should say Circles. They lit, cared for, watched over and tended more than just one fire, but several throughout the community. They worked night and day. These Firetenders are astounding to watch work. I trust that I had gone up to each and everyone of them to say thank you. Thank you for giving us the light, the warmth, and the safe sacred space in which we can allow our spirits to soar. I am so filled with pride to know some of you, and to have watched you grow throughout the years, thank you for allowing the people to feel your caring for the community. Thank you Grandfather Jason and Grandfather Dennis and the rest of the FireTrybe for being the best in the country with the Medicine you share.
And thank you Daltons, ...Frank, Kate, Jessy, Frankie and Tiffany. You are untiring in your help with the community. Thank you for all you give. And Frankie, who took my daughter to the prom, I so honor you as a brother, you have taught me much. But you work to much, and you make me tired watching you. Thank you Penny Goody, for keeping us young at heart. Thank you Peg Button, of the Crone Clan, for keeping our wisdom alive and strong. To all the wonderful presenters who shared and help the people grow. To our own beautiful Peg Aloi, for her Spirit and a singing voice that gave every man, and a few women, woodies... :) And to Gentleman JP...who is there when you are in need, in heart, words, and mechanical tools. Also being the best dressed man at any pagan festival I have ever attended. If I ever decide to "jump the fence" JP, I'll come a knockin.. I thank Tia and Tara, my daughters, for letting me be a 13 year old father figure. (Hey, its a festival, I can act a bit goofy can't I?) Thank you Father Sky, for the wonderful weather you bestowed upon us during the week of Sirius Rising. No scattered showers my ass, and no Tornado's.
So... anything bad happen... NO. Well, something interesting happened. It might look bad to some people. But bad is a peculiar word. Something us insecure beings made up, so we have something to blame our dysfunctions on. A beautiful young woman named Chrissy had her tent caught on fire, she accidentally knocked over a candle when she left the tent, it flared up quickly with all of her belongings, and she reached inside to get her purse and whatever she could...and she got burned, badly on the arm. She was whisked away to the hospital. When she returned, the shock wore off, and she realized that she had lost everything that she had brought to the festival, including her supply of beads to make money with. She no doubt was embarrassed, hurt, and knowing her, just wanted to hide and not bother anybody. Well... Kiss my injun ass... that's not going to happen at Sirius Rising. Not with this community, and react we did. Within hours Chrissy had clothing, money, beads, food, drink, shelter, and at least a couple offers to cuddle PRN. Chrissy was the giveaway. And gifts come in odd forms, but they are true gifts once we understand them. She became the teacher not only to herself, but to all of us. One, to remind us not to walk that lesson, as she has for us, and two, to know that a Community of Family is here and alive at Sirius Rising.
And a short note of thanks to a young lady named Emily. You left a note on my altar for Kokopelli. I would like to share it with the people, I trust you don't mind.:
You are a very special bird to me. When I first stated coming to Brushwood, I had never seen such a magnificent bird before. I was in such awe of you that I cannot even begin to express my feelings in writing. I was permitted to take one of your beautiful blue-green and yellow feathers home with me.
I want you to know that you're, without a doubt, my muse. The presence of your feather in my room sent my musical energy flying. Your feather as the great responsibility of being guardian to many things of magical meaning and many secret spells. I hope that you live a long and happy life.
Love and Kisses, Emily
I trust Emily, you know how many people will share water with your spirit because of this letter. Kokopelli thanks you.
So, in closing, was Sirius Rising a good Festival. It was the best festival that I have ever been to at Brushwood since the land opened up to the people. Daniella and I will continue to make the journey from South Florida to Sherman, New York. We would not miss it one bit. Everything that one could want in a festival is there at Sirius Rising. We will be back.
(you know, the guy with the bird...)
Click for Part III for Peg's Thanks and Tribute.
Photo Credits: The Beautiful photos in this coverage were captured digitally by Don Waterhawk of Waterhawk Creations
For the Latest on Brushwood: Visit the Brushwood Folklore Center on the world wide web.
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