by Gwagwagwe
How far back one must go? Is the beginning of life the first "ahh" moment, the first time that pesky ace of hearts breaks into your royal flush, the first recognition of synchronicity and its reoccurring instinctual connection? Well, Gwagwagwe had his first vision at age 28, the year 1999. A former evangelical Christian, boy scout, punk rock "peace" warrior, "gutter" punk, revolutionary communist, inmate, convict, anarchist, vegan, child; now, animist tribesman at 29. Some people are lucky enough to be born into a tribe, but since my culture now nothing of true tribal benefits it took me 29 years to understand that deep need within myself. I tried a little of everything this culture had to offer (I also was indoctrinated into the mythology of scientific method at the UW in Seattle, and held numerous slave-wage jobs). You know all that searching, feeling around blindly for "my" path, and our path as humanity left me empty and hollow, until the beginning of my vision quest, my search for tribe and lifestyle, my present journey; that is what's for supper.
I wish I could write down vision by saying things like "strength in cultural diversity", or " communities of mutual cooperation", or just "tribes", but we know that the words fail us, they don't express the "rightness" felt by each individual when the moment comes. And all this talk is just human jabber; we cannot be complete or "right" without our intimate and encompassing relationship with the community of life around us. Instead of talking, and we've done our fair share, we're walking, walking away that is from the voice of mother culture that whispers sweet lies to us every day. We are in search of a "fractal lifestyle " , a way to make a living that is meaningful to all tribesman, and of course the tribe. It's been four moons since we began our journey, and we're beginning to gain so insight into our biological drives and imperatives, our ancestral knowledge, and our direct communication with the community of life, the fire of life, and the perception of experience that is within the one-who-flows-through-all-things,
First, we must satisfy those who do not trust the gods to provide for those who compete to their maximum ability, and follow the law of life. This next section is the "rational mind" page. Unlike our regular-posted stories, this will include specific place names, dates, financial estimates, and social costs of our search so far. For those with a "changed mind" can just skip the hors d' oeuvres and go straight to the salad, and those who lived the salad (the birth of the bison band), can go straight to the main course, which is alligator and Muscatine vine wine.
DRY CRACKERS WITH CRUSHED MUSTARD SEED AND OF COURSE MOUNTAIN SPRING WATER.
September 1, 2000. We sold, gave, and chucked away ten years of collected material items, so everything we own would fit into the '90 Ford Taurus. We had two chests full of food (collected over six months from local food banks), we had camping gear, and we had our hearts on our sleeves for the first time in ten years. No more hiding, no more slaving, just an adventure, and a quest to fulfill. We said our good-byes and headed for the ferry, possibly to leave the Puget Sound area forever. Financially we had $450 buck in cash, and around $2400 in "savings", a gift from parents. We spent one weekend at south Whidbey island state park (first lesson learned: state parks are a rip off in Washington and Oregon). We moved north on the island where we found Rhododendron gardens, a free (as most Department of natural resource sites) camp, we spent eight days adjusting to living outdoors. We used the food bank in the northern most town, and the library in the closest (second lesson; with a good "story" and a fake lease agreement you can access most food banks and libraries in any town).
This is the story: "Bison band and the island of death and mystery".
This is the story: "Bison band and the wasteland"
This is the story: "Bison band and the lake of tranquility".
These are the stories: "Bison band and the river of song”, " Bison band and the difference of one thousand feet", Bison band become deer", " Bison band and the three Inos", " Bison band and the stories that can't be written".
OXALIS, PLANTAIN, CLOVER ROOT, ALMONDS, KIWI, AND PERERONCINI.
(All names have been changed to protect the insolent)
The birth of the bison band was the reuniting of high school friends, and a dog named buddy. Penny and Buddy speak for themselves, so this is Jay's version. I was "living in a van down by the river". The van was an old Buick, and the river was the remnants of my animal rights days. Well on separate sides of that great city, within minutes of each other, both Penny and Jay totaled their autos in identical accidents. Synchronicity? Well a week later a friend gave me "Ishmael" by Daniel Quinn. I read, was changed. I gave to Penny, she was changed, we discussed it with Buddy, (he tends to enjoy anything to do with collapse human cultures, but he's bitter). So we all moved in together, and the bison band was born, We then did what everybody who read Quinn's work does, keep reading related material to make sure the guy wasn't a quack; he's not. We experimented with forming a tribe of say, uh, low income suburbanites, but the crush of civilization couldn't be escaped. So with Michael Time as our inspiration, and the encouragement of tall-man-dog-god, walks like wind, lyathono, and he-who-runs-naked, we left in search of our visions physical manifestation So without further ado, the main course: Beat soup.
BEAT SOUP, FULL OF NUTRIENTS FOR THE MIND AND SOUL.
Moments in space and their handmaidens, endless variation and self-replication. The dichotomy of a fractal, if that's possible. Time insignificant, language a tool to be refined or abandoned as a portal to truth, number insignificant, cultural blinders destroyed. What remains? Life, perception, energy. So if you thought I could explain vision in this medium of tedium, no-way. You wanna know our vision, come become a bison, maybe for a week, maybe for a lifetime. We can show you the outline of the mosaic, and you can’t color it in with your own truth.
We want to thank those who have sent us their dreams and stories; we'll see you around the council fire. Special thanks to the Quinn web-site, www.ishmael.com for the guest book, the great sounding board at the Ishmael community at www.delphi.com (especially Laura), and Barbara for posting our stories on her continuum concept related website.
The bison band is all those who travel in the hearts, minds, and body with us, including all the insects and arthropods that dwell in our usually dirty clothing, bedding, and horse powered automobile. There are millions of us, and our kind are near you now.
If you would like to be a bison, just walk away, we would like those mentioned here in and anyone wanting more info to contact us at bisonband2000@yahoo.com
Welcome to the evolution of the bison band, see you soon.