There's a store over in my sidebar called Woodstock Trading Company. Woodstock is a family-owned business, and its merchandise is teleported straight from 1972 to the present. They don't sell pipes at Woodstock, but everything else is hippie dippy trippy. All of my faerie balls have come from there, and most of my ritual candles and incense as well. If what you want is a Grateful Dead _________ (you fill in the blank, they've got it), you cannot do better than Woodstock.
On Sunday the folks at Woodstock had a Garlic Festival. They have it every year at the moment when they prepare their garden bed (in front of the store). They had a band on the lawn, Grateful Dead covers of course. They also had an old road trip hippie bus called the Sugar Magnolia.
Are you on the bus or off the bus?
Remember that old phrase? It's metaphorical, of course.
People who are on the bus are free spirits, adventurous, risk-takers. No two days are alike, because the bus is always rolling. Enjoy the ride!
Those who aren't on the bus play it safe, keep within routine, and ... well ... let's be honest. They prop up the people on the bus. If it weren't for the "off the bus" crowd, the people on the bus wouldn't have any gigs to play, no destination, no place to crash when they're sleeping off the shrooms. If we're perfectly candid, there wouldn't be a bus at all without the cooperation of people who aren't ever going to get on it.
So, what do the people who aren't on the bus get as a reward for supporting the people on the bus? The off-the-bussers get to live vicariously without incurring danger. They can lie on the grass and listen to the Grateful Dead, maybe get a little bit stoned, then rouse themselves and get back to work on Monday morning.
I'd like to be on the bus, but I'm not much of a risk-taker. It's too easy to sit in the grass, sing along, enjoy the sky, return home and cook dinner.
One of these days, though, I'm going to throw all caution to the wind. I'm going to climb on the bus, take a long, strange trip. I'll be the one singing for the crowd, living for the moment, raking in adventure like a gardener on harvest day. I'll deal with the hangovers and the crazy fellow-trippers, because it's better to fly than to be rooted to the ground.
Yep, I have definitely not ruled out the long, strange trip. In the meantime, I had Jimmy snap this photo of me as an inspiration. It is never too late to jump on the bus. Don't believe me? Will it change your mind if I tell you I used to spend every Sunday morning in a Methodist church, and now I go to Garlic Festivals instead?
Our bus for the long, strange trip is taking passengers now. And later. Any time. No seat belts. Don't forget your tie-dye shirt! If you don't have one, they've got hundreds at Woodstock Trading Company!
Peace, love, flower power.