Gopher Gulch: The magic and the memories

But now and again advice happens. Right now I’m ambivalent about both the giving and the taking of advice. Last week I advised we all go play, and then I took my own advice.

Initially I visualized peaceful strolls through shaded forests, across little streams, through a visual paradise populated by strange life forms dancing to the music of the spheres.

For those who live intuitively, trying to flow harmoniously through time and space, life is one huge surprise after another. Which is as close as I can get to explaining how I ended up at the Oregon Country Fair.

The OCF is a huge hippie fair, said to be even larger than the Rainbow Family Gathering. I strolled through forests where even the delicate bleeding hearts had been preserved and, in spite of the fact that I kept moving most of the time, I probably saw about 30 percent of the fair and not a single bit of garbage.

There were green men and merry men, gnomes and fairies, dryads and beings I can’t begin to describe. There were moss-covered platforms and houses in the trees that had obviously been there for decades.

There were lovely “Altared Spaces,” where spiritual icons of every tradition surrounded carpets with prayer pillows. These were freely used by those who needed to commune with their muse and temporarily withdraw from the sensory overload.

Music of every variety was everywhere, and dancing alone or with others was a given. I danced to Ren­aissance music with a little girl named Alice who sold me a pretty rock for a quarter. I danced with a woman probably 20 years my senior who was dressed all in diaphanous veils with jewels in her hair.

The most surreal thing happened when I was simply rocking gently to the music at the edge of the action. A beautiful young woman nearly a foot taller than me, dressed entirely in silver paint, met my eyes. For some reason I stretched my arm over my head, index finger extended.

Without breaking eye contact, she placed the tip of her finger against mine and danced around me as I pivoted, her silver tresses flowing with her movements.

I planned to come home the next morning, but my legs wouldn’t work. I spent the day in blissful silence except for a wonderfully raucous thunder storm, imprinting the fair on my memory, massaging what I could reach and drinking lots of water.

The magic and the memories are worth every muscle spasm.