Inspiration from a random moment – Tales from the Trail Part II



I am reminiscing tonight about all things Rainbow. It was a glorious time, truly, and an experience I will never forget, those days at Rainbow Gathering. Tonight C was in my heart and I thought of the sweet young man, not a kid really, but at least 3 decades younger than I. I had seen C hanging out at Jesus Kitchen for a couple of days in a row, this kid of a man, tall and straight with the nicest smile and the most liquid honey-filled eyes.


Finally, after the hustle of filtering water that some kind soul had carried up the hill in a 5 gallon jug, I went to the campfire to sit a spell and there C was, eating some breakfast and looking somewhat pensive.


One always wonders if they should jump in when someone’s pensive, at least this one wonders: leave them to their thoughts or get sociable? Will they share? Will it make a difference? Are you interrupting? Knock, knock. Who’s there? Interrupting Cow. Mooooo – you know the joke.


But those decades have taught me something and he was a kind, young man and so we began to talk. Turns out we had a lot in common, mainly a guy named Jesus, whom we both knew by name, and that’s always a fun place to share from. I like to listen to my heart when someone is sharing theirs because sometimes, just sometimes, thoughts, feelings or words “pop” in and I have learned it’s kind of important to share these seemingly random things because they aren’t so random.


So at an somewhat appropriate moment, I asked if I could share, wanting the okay of this dignified young man, and since it was going to be, kind of, you know, random. He gave the okay and I blurted out, “I see a purity in your eyes.” I watched as, like an arrow, the words went straight to his heart and tears sprang forth. This is how you know it’s not just you, it’s not just random and the words were given to accomplish a holy purpose.


Turns out his grandfather had quite the opinion about the Rainbow Festival, though grandpa had never been there, and it wasn’t really all that grand. C used the word, “evil”, which sounded really harsh to me, but who was I to judge? But it had hurt C’s heart, I think, to feel so pulled to a place, for whatever reason, and have the intent of his heart so misjudged by someone he obviously cared for. At least that was my take on it. So I guess purity was an affirmation to C that he needed to hear.


I ran into C a lot over the next few days as he came and went. I truly don’t know what his mission was or reason for his being at the Rainbow Gathering. That wasn’t mine to know. I hope he went home and had stories to share with his grandfather. Stories that blessed grandpa and showed him a little more than the judgment he had moved in that had wounded a precious grandson. Stories that clearly showed the motivation of C’s heart and helped grandfather see the purity in those liquid honey-filled eyes.


A Dred-full Day!



Well, this is going to be a bit of shocker for some people (like my extended family), but yesterday I started the journey into dreds. Yep, all 55 years of me. It’s been brewing a couple of years – this thought that I needed to get dreds. Now I am counting that thought as divinely-inspired and straight-from-the-throne-room as dreds are about the last thing I would ever spend my money on.

But after chewing on it, like a cow with a cud, two years later I have spit it back up and dreds it is.

It did make a whole lot more sense to me as I felt so called to the Rainbow Gathering where there’s a whole lot of dreds going on. But in my own eyes, and in the perceptions of the world, this is not who I have been or am. I mean sure, crunchy momma tendencies (just ask my kiddos) but my view of myself has been far more suburban momma with a bit of religious crunchy thrown in and dreds are not part of that m.o.  At least in my brain.

Evidence “A” for Suburban Mom status

I’ve been pondering, in the three weeks since I have pursued this decision, and what I have come to realize is that much of this is going to be a humbling experience.   Humbling me. Humbling my pride in who I think I am, how far I think I have come and where I think I am going. That kind of humbling ~ the best kind of humbling I think. Stripping any pride I have in my wonderfully wavy hair, the way I am perceived by those around me, the way I have, frankly, used those perceptions to work for me and for my best interests. Oh it’s an ugly can of worms I’ve uncovered as I have chewed this cud.

Whole lotta grey going on here ~ more than I realized, lol!

So yesterday I sat in a backyard, a neighbor’s pool area and next to a river, for hours, while a sweet new friend put this formerly pretty mop into dreds. And you know what, the humbling already has begun. I frankly look like Pippy Longstocking, only older. It’s messy and I was hoping it would be somewhat stylish in some way. It’s not. It’s going to take a few months, says my new friend, before they lock in and look more like dreds. My young man advised me this morning to cut them off. But I’m too cheap for that. I paid good money to look like Old Pippy here and so I move forward.

How I envisioned it would look.  (Sorry no idea what website I pulled this from.)

Not sure where this all ends up, but I’ll shoot a few photos now and again and keep you posted on this new epic journey. I am also going to see how perceptions change, my own and maybe even others, and I’ll dialogue about that too.

 Dreds day 1. Pippy indeed!

As my young man summed it up yesterday, “My mom has done some crazy things, but this is the craziest of them all!” That may be, but in the end, I am still his mom. Nothing changed there.

Tales from the trail – Part 1


I am sharing my tales from the trail, to tell you of the deep, deep impact this event had on my life, not to begin a discussion or deep dialogue on rights or wrongs, and how those things play out. I am not a theologian but a lover of all people and seek to learn to love more as I walk through this life. As such, if you would like to comment, please do. But hurtful comments that divide us rather than help us unite and walk in love will be excluded from publication. Please understand that there are other sites willing to discuss those things. This story exists solely to share about the Rainbow People and my visit to them and to help others, especially my Christian brothers & sisters, perhaps understand a world so different than their own.


I have just returned from the Annual Rainbow Gathering held in the hills of Vermont. I was a Rainbow “virgin” and have come out a much different person than I went in.

I worked with a group called Jesus Kitchen, serving food, filtered water and coffee to those at the gathering – Jesus believers or not – and listening to stories, oh so many stories, shared around the circle we sat at morning, noon and night.

One of the most impactful, to me, was that of P. The day after I arrived, I heard P call out from our steps (we were situated up the side of a hill), “Can a pagan transgender come into the camp?” This alone broke my heart. That any one of God’s children would feel excluded in our camp or not welcome to come to the circle of light and love made me sad.

We ushered P in and she sat down and began to share her story with all of us – unbidden but welcomed, as all stories were welcomed. It was a tale of hurt and heartbreak involving things that couldn’t even be told as we had children in the circle. Most disturbing to me was that the horrible things P had suffered had been in a church. Things you don’t mention when children are present. Things that make scars run deep and pain stay fresh.

P asked to share a song. Music, P said, was what got her through the tough times. One song after another followed, and, at the end, three beautiful hymns were sung – tender and filled with emotion. My eyes were not dry.

After, P began to talk of the things of God. Scripture was not unknown to this pagan gentle person and she told stories of sharing the word on the streets of New Orleans with street preachers and many asking in that city how a pagan could share the word of God.

Anomalies run deep, don’t they? I don’t use that phrase as if P were the anomaly. The situation was that thing. Sitting in a circle of love and light listening to the resonating word of God from one so judged and considered by some not worthy to deliver it.

P did not return to Jesus Kitchen, at least when I was there. But I saw P on my last day of the Rainbow Gathering, dressed this time in the opposite persona. He was preparing to play an instrument and share of that deep love of music with yet another crowd.


‘Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in here the poor and the maimed and the lame and the blind.’ 22 And the servant said, ‘Master, it is done as you commanded, and still there is room.’ Luke 14:21b – 22 NKJV



All names have been changed to protect the identity of the person involved as my heart to is protect their dignity. If I have failed to do that in any way, please forgive me. The failing is mine.