As soon as I found out about the existence of Rootstalk, I knew that I had to go. It was like someone had decided to make a festival just for me. With classes on herbalism, organic and sustainable living, wildcrafting, and more, I couldn't stay away. It was the right decision; the weekend was one of the best I've ever had. I still haven't fully processed my experiences (which isn't that surprising given that I was bombarded with bad news as soon as I got back). When it was over, I didn't want to come home. Normally when I see the Seattle skyline after being gone for a while, I feel euphoric. This time, I felt my stomach sinking. I was coming back to reality after being in a utopia.
I'm not entirely sure how to put my experience into words. Normally, words don't fail me, but in this case, I've barely been able to talk about it at all. I could talk about what classes we went to and which vendors I bought things from, but that was such a small fragment. It was more about the synergy (I hate that word, but in this case it fits) of the people, their combined knowledge and wisdom, the environment, and the activities we participated in.
What sticks out most in my mind is the overall feeling that some humans have given up a lot of things that we would probably be better off having in our lives. We have given it up in order to have the convenience of modern, city life, but I'm far from convinced that the tradeoff is worth it.
One of the presenters, Daniel Vitalis, said that he thinks that humans need fire - not just to cook our food and keep us warm. I can't help but agree that sitting in front of a real fire, whether I'm roasting marshmallows on a camping trip, having a bonfire on the beach, or sitting in front of a cozy fireplace, makes me feel good, like I'm getting something vital that I've been lacking. He aslo brought up that in modern western culture, we have developed the notion that we are somehow separate from the ecosystem. The fact is that we are part of the whole, and we can't escape that for good or ill. I'm not entirely sure what to do with that concept, but it rings true. Mostly, I want to spend more time in nature (I say as I'm sitting in my living room in my apartment in a major city) so that I can experience and hopefully understand what it is that I think it's so critical that we protect and live with in harmony.
The sense of community that pervaded the festival was amazing. Everyone was friendly and had a smile to share. There was no awkwardness about starting up a conversation with a stranger. We were all kindred spirits, and it was fabulous. The free tea pavilion was a great place to feel the camaraderie of the festival. People could be found there at all times of the day lounging on the cushions and making new friends. I would love to feel that wonderful sense of community in my daily life. It was jarring when I returned home and smiled at the first people who passed me on the street, only to have them avert their gazes and look obviously uncomfortable (though granted, it could have been that I looked like a derelict, dirty hippy... that is if it weren't still happening).
There is definitely something primal missing from my life. I realized this when a marching percussion band performed throughout the campground. People were drawn to them, and an impromptu parade formed as people followed them around, dancing their hearts out. It was reminiscent of the pied piper. That night we went to the woodland masquerade ball. I'll admit, before I went to it, I thought it sounded a little hokey. A masquerade ball? While camping? Outdoors? In reality, it was astounding. There is something profound about people wearing masks. Your identity becomes less important, and your ego melts away. People danced with abandon, unconcerned about whether they looked like idiots. And dancing outdoors... it's magical. The energy from the earth combined with the energy of the music and the other people was unreal. During the ball, it felt like I was part of a tribe, and I want that feeling back.
One of the things that was stressed over and over again by many different people in many different ways was that we shouldn't beat ourselves up when we fail to live up to our own expectations. The context was always that of living sustainably, but I think it applies to everything. When we try to change things 100% all at once, we are bound to slip some. I try to eat organic food as much as possible, but sometimes, I just need to buy a pizza, and that's OK. It seems to be human nature (well, American nature, anyway) that if we fail a little bit then we should just give up. Instead, we should be forgiving of our slipups and keep right on trucking, doing what we can. That's what I'm working on - doing what I can. For now I'm in Seattle in a small apartment with a cat who will eat anything green that she sees, so starting indoor window gardens isn't possible. I'm not going to be able to grow all of my own food on my shaded balcony. I can, however, keep maintaining my little garden (which I fully intend to truly maintain next spring/summer. I've mostly gotten over my bee PTSD and am pretty sure I'll be able to actually do work in the garden soon), and doing my best to eat organic and sustainably farmed food whenever I can. While it would be great if I were able to live in a perfectly permacultured (I've decided this must be a word) home that was completely self-sustaining. I don't, and I won't be able to do that for a long time. So I take baby steps, which are better than not doing anything at all.
John and I have big plans to start a club where we can spend time in nature, learning how to do awesome things that we learned about at Rootstalk, like making rope from plants, starting fires using the bow and stick method (essentially, rubbing 2 sticks together), wild foraging, and other awesome nature-based activities. We hope that by doing this, we'll manage to keep ourselves sane until next year's Rootstalk. I can't wait.
