It was a good night. A tale should always begin on a good
night like this, where the sparks from the campfire climb high into the dark
sky, drawing all around close to it's warmth in the late night chill of an
early Spring evening.
We had set up that afternoon, hopeful and nervous. Gaining permission from a
farmhouse on the edge of town to camp and perform (we always called it
performing...explaining we wanted to create an experience for an audience was
much too complicated). The word traveled quickly. It always seemed to in the
smaller towns. I don't even know which wee place it was that night...somewhere
in northern Virginia, I'm fairly sure.
You see, we were nervous because part of our sept had traveled ahead to
Reston. For reasons no one has fully grasped for eleven generations, this
community has always supported Wanderer ideals. As our gypsy lifestyle led us
around the continent and even the world, we tried to make a regular stop in
Reston at least once a year. On this particular trip we found ourselves with
some extra time before anything was booked, so we traveled and explored along
the road. While it was common for some to travel ahead to finish arrangements,
fill in press time and make supplementary bookings, it was not common for the
rest of the troop to continue to do performances along the road at one third our
regular complement.
Tindar is the spokesperson for our group.
Del'yar had gone on ahead with him, largely to keep
him out of trouble. She is an Ez Perjezlah of considerable might and
ferocity...she needed every ounce of it to keep tabs on dear Tindar. He is a
Deklamohedrin by Way.
Ascher always says, with a
teasing grin, "what he makes most of all is smoke". Tindar is our
marketing expert, you see. Now I don't want to paint too harsh a picture. Tindar
is a good soul who believes so vibrantly in what he's promoting that he
sometimes goes a little further than the rest of us are comfortable with, that's
all. I suppose that's because what we are peddling is essentially our lifestyle.
We use dance, song and story (I'm the voice that binds the other aspects...the
improv poet and scribe) to create an experience. We create living ritual
pertinent to people's lives and meditative experiences which touch audiences so
deeply that sometimes they can hardly bring themselves to leave when the last
drum is beaten and the campfire burns down to low embers. We are very low key,
perhaps exhibiting that time honored artist's disdain for monetary rewards. That
is where Tindar plays his role. We would be lost without him.
"Nobility and honor are the tools by which otherwise sane people complicate
their own lives with hurdles," he winks at us as he passes his hat amongst the
crowd or offers an array of our books and filmed teachings...demonstrating the
basic tools of self work. Despite Tindar scandalously calling these our
"Tupperware" it is a fair exchange. The crowds give both willingly and
generously. We are no charlatans. What we offer works for us in our own lives.
Tindar will tell us that at the drop of his laden and stretched hat, without
even his customary wink.
Without Tindar and Del'yar, our troop was down to four members:
-Ascher (Ektazian) - His movements are those of joining, beautiful
creation. He's the best listener I've ever met in my life.
-Danidesh
(Deznahdorean) - He is a prince of solitude. Our creative leader. The
spark of our dreamfire.
-Syha (Majz) - She
is a pure force of anticipation and potential. She tames the dreamfire,
channelling it into a manageable direction.
-Miel (Chandorean) Yours
truly, mistress of spoken words. A veritable causeway of intersections.
Although we call ourselves a sept, Wanderers are a flexible lot. Members come
and go, not frequently, but from time to time. Enhanced by our transient
lifestyle, but certainly not at the root of change itself, Wanderers have long
demonstrated a sept was a model for stability, not a hard and fast rule. Each
group was strongly encouraged to embrace what works for them. People willing to
commit to a life together are painfully few and far between after all. Also, as
far as we know, we are unique in the history of Wanderer lore. Most of the
famous communities...The Bush, Western Wildzones, The Isles, Havenshire and The
Eastern Cities were fixed in space and time. People passed in and out of their
stationary lives. There have been nomads in Wanderer culture who weaved in the
places between, but to our knowledge, there has never been a band of gypsies
like us who form a completely mobile sept. As I said, each group is strongly
encouraged to embrace what works for them.
The music was winding down. The heartbeat of the dancers now much faster than
the beat of the music, they were pulled down along with the drum's pace. We were
thin on music with Del'yar's absense. Only Ascher played. It was a different
experience. Danidesh filled some of that void with complex rhythmic
breathing...others followed. My words, now soft tones, punched softly in the
spaces left by the drumming. Proud of myself, I remembered to include some of
Tindar's customary words to close about supporting our work. He would be
pleased...the hat was not as full as he would have had it, but neither was it
empty. Slowly we all faded to silence, covered ourselves in warm blankets and
cloaks, sitting still, revelling in the experience. Many of those in the
audience had joined in tonight. The energy was never the same in any two places,
on any two nights. I preferred the small towns, the close intimate gatherings,
if we could just get one person to stand and join in, the experience was sure to
be a powerful one. Others would soon join.
It was one of those nights where no one could bring themselves to leave the
campfire. They were silent and respectful for a few moments, but soon many began
to stir uneasily. Being new to the experience, certainly they wouldn't go very
deeply with their meditation. Very soon, they were chattering, alive with the
events of the night. And questions...so many questions! This was another area
where Tindar and Del'yar often helped out, running interference while we
recovered.
"You are very welcome to share our campfire this evening," I began in a voice
so soft they had to hush to hear me. "After you have done this work for a while,
you will find you feel very open, even vulnerable afterwards for a time. If you
could be respectful of our openness after performing and let us spend some time
in the spaces between, I know we will warm to your questions."
There is no sound louder than twenty hushed people staring at you
expectantly.
Without opening my eyes I added, "Perhaps if you talk softly among yourselves
for just a few minutes..."
There were audible sighs of relief from the group around the campfire. I sat
quietly absorbed in my own experience for a while, my blanket wrapped around my
shoulders, rocking back and forth to remembered rhythms. It was Ascher who first
came up to engage "our groupies" as Tindar called those who hung around after
performances.
"Anyone can meditate in a quiet space," Ascher was saying. Someone had asked
how we could possibly be in a true meditative state with the conversations going
on. It was a common question and a fairly standard answer. "Take that Tibetan
monk down onto a traffic island and see how he makes out." The crowd chuckled
softly. I opened my eyes and smiled.
"Were there any questions about your experience tonight?" I asked softly,
indicating I was open to discussion now, having had enough time to come up.
"How did you make me do that?" one man asked, not in accusation but in
wonder.
"Ask a better question," I requested. I wanted him to be clear, not just for
himself but for the others present.
He thought for a moment, then said "I never dance in public. My wife can tell
you." A woman beside him nodded, rubbing his back. "I...I'm real self conscious
about moving, my body, you know."
"Did you feel that way tonight?" Ascher asked.
He furrowed his brow deeply, considering this, "Didn't then...do a bit now."
"It would be a great question to ask yourself, if you can keep doing this
work, even in your own private space," Ascher told him.
Danidesh, coming up from his trance added "Miel mentioned openness and
vulnerability before. Most people experience a willingness to feel that, even
when they first encounter the work. They feel safe, even among strangers.
Sometimes it scares them deeply. You are a very brave man." The two men smiled
at each other.
Syha also had opened her eyes. We were all present and in the moment again.
We joined hands for a moment, including any from the crowd who stayed around who
wanted to do so. The man who was self conscious about dance, struggled a moment,
then chose to include himself. He was going to do just fine with this work. The
brave ones always do.
Gradually the questions turned from being about the experience to asking
about our lifestyle. This wasn't uncommon in the least. There are two questions
I always dread, because I don't have a nice normal answer to them:
"Where are you from?" and "Where are you going?"
Most of the curiosity seemed to stem from those two basic fundamentals.
"How did you all come together to do this?" a woman asked, her eyes sparkling
in awe of the life of adventure she imagined. She couldn't know it was as
mundane as her life, just in different ways...with different routines.
"Well, at first it was just Miel and me," Syha explained. "We were in the
same town. I went to study with her until we started to dream together of
sharing the work with others. So we practiced, then we set out on the road,
naive and hopeful."
"And we proceeded to starve," I added with a chuckle.
"One night a fellow named Tindar came to see us dance. We made enough that
night for a cup of coffee, which was one of our better nights. But he stayed and
we talked until sunrise. Tindar became kind of our road manager."
"The rest of our group all joined in much the same way. We crossed their path
doing our work and we formed friendships, relationships. Sometimes they went
home and packed that night. Most times we wrote and talked and a few years and
several return trips later, they decided to travel with us for a limited time to
try it out. Some of them stayed, many have decided it wasn't for them."
"Where is Tindar now?" asked another woman. "Was he one who decided it wasn't
for him?"
"Oh no," Ascher spoke up. He and the other absent member of our family,
Del'yar, are ahead of us on the road planning our schedule for us at our next
stop.
"That's quite a rig you've got over there," the shy dancing man said.
I looked over at our home on wheels and smiled. It seemed small from the
outside, but it sure stood out and caught the eye. Bright red with white trim,
it was an ancient van with rounded contours, heavily modified to be a
comfortable home to 6 people, currently. On the sides rested solar panels, like
sails of old. Inside we had all the comforts of home, including cooking,
washroom and shower. And the Internet, our main source of everything from news
and communications to entertainment.
"Would you like to see?" I asked proudly. "When we are in fast-getaway mode,
we live in it quite comfortably as you see it now. If we are going to spend a
longer time in one place, we spread out with tents and additions sprawling
around us, fulfilling our need for privacy more completely. Generally we don't
have a schedule that pushes us too hard and we can find a nice balance."
"Say, I saw this when I first came in and meant to ask," said the shy dancing
man. "These words here, what are they from?"
He pointed to an italic script on the back of the camper which simply said "one
of the seven" with a crude symbol of the Chandorean painted above it.
"It's a line from a very old poem," I told him. "About 300 years old, in
fact."
I shifted, wanting to draw them inside to continue the tour. I must explain,
to these people we were a traveling novelty as dance and meditation workers.
Although we won't lie to anyone about it, we don't generally make it known we
are Wanderers. Mostly, the way Wanderers get along in the world is by keeping a
low profile. I was just as happy not to reveal the origins of that poem. Just as
most groups outside the mainstream have always had codes and symbols to identify
each other, this line was something innocuous most people would never think
twice about, but other Wanderers would notice easily. Legend has it these were
the words spoken by one member of the first sept known to have
joined...committed to each other.
As I opened the door to the camper, I stopped and looked back toward the shy
dancing man and the rest of the crowd from the evening's experience. At first, I
was shocked. He was singing the most lovely tune. As I focused on the words, I
realized it was the poem I'd mentioned forming the lyrics of the song. Even
though only the first line was hinted at on our camper, somehow this stranger
knew the entire ancient poem. I was afraid for a split second, a knee-jerk
reaction which was washed away by the beautiful voice which cracked with emotion
as he sang:
I am one of the seven
Precious in my eyes
Always seeking
Wandering landscapes,
Inner and outer
Embracing the insatiable
Exploring the Universe
Sept entwined,
Greater as one
Community strengthens each
Lays a foundation upon which
We may walk among the stars
My brothers are dreamers
My sisters are makers
My lovers, guardians of choice
In command only of my intent
My path
My honor
Companion to all else
In reverent witness
I remain
one
amidst all that is, was
and ever shall be.
"The Words of Binding," whispered Syha.
"I never knew this was sung to music," I whispered.
"How did you come to know this so well?" asked Danidesh of the shy blushing
man.
We all fell silent in wonder and anticipation.
To be continued...
