An unusual element to this farm adventure are the people who own this land. In 1973, the year I was born, some hippies purchased several hundred acres around here and eventually passed it off to a group known as the Radical Faeries. It’s a fascinating bit of gay history—feel free to wikipedia the shit out of it.
Four decades later these acres are a queer motherland. There’s a surprising number of gays living in these hills, and they ain’t following nobody’s rules but their own. It’s a weirdo mix of hippie, hedonism and fabulousness. Solar panels, organic gardens and the occasional art installation. You’ll be hiking along through the forest and encounter a strange altar—with glittery beads and baby doll heads—where some tongue-in-cheek pagan ritual might take place. There is a heavy nod toward pagan things and magic around here, although I’m not sure if anyone is taking it seriously. Or maybe they are. Anything goes.
Now I’m certainly not one to take it seriously. I keep a pretty reasonable and level head and am not prone to giving much thought to magic and mysticism. I’m a skeptic. I’m a cynic. Probably an asshole.
They throw an annual Spring Solstice event here complete with debauchery and a MayPole. I went to this event two years ago, when the relationship I was in at the time was really good. Before anything had turned sour. They came here every year, and were excited to introduce me to the spectacle. It was a memorable week.
To be embarrassingly frank, I thought this relationship was “the one.” Like, enough to humor them with a week in the woods dressed up like silly magical forest creatures while tripping on shrooms. It was as close as I’ve gotten to feeling like I had found a significant “life relationship” in a long time. Possibly ever.
But it ended. It’s one of the happenings that have brought me to my current crossroads—and this crossroads to this soul-searching month in the wilderness.
Today our group spent the afternoon on the grounds where this MayDay (Beltane) event takes place. It’s the first time I’ve set foot there since the last time. (That’s a redundant sentence, but you know what I mean.) It’s a visually stunning place, and it triggered a lot of memories of that great week with them two years back. I decided to break off from the group and stroll around alone —as I felt some unexpected emotions welling up.
I eventually found myself on the exact spot where our tent was pitched. Memories of that week flooded my brain and I stood there motionless for several minutes. It turned into one of those montages from the climax of an emotional film. Flashes and scenes of when we first met. Trips we took. Silly fleeting happy moments. Then the first time I felt disappointed. The time I stormed out of the house confused and angry.
I dare say, it was a magikal trance. Very full circle.
Then at the end of the vision I looked down at my feet– where we once laid in our tent. I saw myself. I saw them.
I said aloud, “I’m not that person anymore.” That person laying there was unfamiliar with the experiences, knowledge and emotions I now posses. I was happy for him— laying there in love. But that version of myself had several months of a downward spiral waiting before him—leading him to the current version of myself standing there alone in the woods.
I turned and walked away. At a fairly quick pace. With each step I went further away from the old version of myself and towards the self I am going to be. A strange electricity vibrated my body and I felt a burden left behind in those magical, mystical faerie-infested woods…