A Day at Earthdance by musician Eric Iverson

In the midst of a dusty cloud I came upon what could be perceived as yet another wild and crazy California Summer Music Festival, but was soon and pleasantly surprised that the hippy dirt stomp at Black Oak Ranch, in Laytonville (also known as the Hog Farm) had a bigger and more important theme to it than most of the many festivals I have attended. Pulling up at the will-call to get my Earthdance pass, I was greeted by a singing and guitar playing parking volunteer that started strumming and serenading me as my tires rolled on to the dusty grounds. As disorganized as most festivals are at retrieving the will call passes I was amazed at how mellow and accommodating they were.

Right away I got my pass and was escorted over to a parking spot. From the second I opened my door the music from the main stage was resonating throughout the venue with the sounds of an African artist strumming his Kora. The dust in the air soon was absorbed into my being and I was transformed into one of the many. The temperature of the day soon took the place of the ever present dust cloud and my goal shifted to seeking cool beverages and shade.

As I entered the bowl at around 11:30am on Sunday morning, people where slowly trickling in from their camps to the venue with the look on their faces of just having gone through an all night escapade of thumping trance beats and twirling fire dancers. Amazingly most of the people still seemed very coherent and present in the festival’s theme of peace and unity. Having missed the big Prayer for Peace on Saturday afternoon, I could still feel the aura in the air from the residual effect of the many people around the world giving their intentions towards peace at the same time. I felt immediately welcomed into the circle of dust-dancing peace makers.

The vendor booths that created a horseshoe shape around the bowl were made up of fine crafted art, hemp clothing, odd paraphernalia, and incredibly delectable food. I stumbled upon some old friends-- I was amazed to find them amongst the thousands of heads-- and joined them on their blanket laid out in the middle of the crowd. Thus began our smorgasbord which included everything from tofu corn dogs and fries to crepes topped with bananas, strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Hours later with a tummy ache and the earth’s force pulling me toward its core, we made one last run for some iced coffee.

The music was in full tilt at that point and the crowd quickly formed into an organism moving, breathing and cheering as one. The ocean of people grew and grew until I finally realized that our safe little picnic area was now in the belly of this sea of synchronized dirt dancers. I gave my good byes to the old friends and headed back stage for some sanctuary.

The backstage hospitality was equipped with cold water, iced tea and hot dogs. Sitting down at a table where some indigenous elders were probably reasoning about something mystical, I saw to the right the African Kora player that had filled the air with his music when I first showed up. I feel that the festival did an amazing job of bringing many cultures together as one and the focus of peace was an obvious platform for people to come together. The music reflected that as well, with the multi-genre diversity of entertainers on the bill.

The day had cooled down to a reasonable temperature and the headliners were taking stage to wrap up this four day event. After checking out the second to last band I had said my goodbyes and prepared myself for the long drive back home. Getting into my car, I felt a sense of contentment and peace within myself. I think the festival’s main goal of interconnectedness made its imprint into my soul. I highly enjoyed myself and would recommend Eathdance to anyone, including those in the Ironweed community who were able to see the August volume about achieving peace.

- By Eric Iverson, Musician and Earthdance Participant (Ironweed Films Volume 33: August 2008)
For more information, visit http://www.ironweedfilms.com/films/past