Michfest (Days 7 & 8)
[At this point, I've run out of journaling steam and am just trying to hang on for dear life to the very tail ends of the festival, knowing damn well that I'm gonna have to head back home and back to reality in a few days.]
Day 7
It's the end of Day 7. I'm tired (and feeling a bit grouchy towards folks), my foot hurts, and I'm actually looking forward to going home (and the added perk of finally getting to see my fella after a whole week). I enjoyed my time here, but I think this is definitely something I'm not gonna do EVERY year.
[It serves its purpose and I ultimately end up enjoying myself. This year was no different. But this year was also a mish-mosh of mixed feelings. I swayed back and forth from feeling really centered and getting good feelings from the festival and being gung-ho in wanting to make it an annual thing to feeling as though something about it was off. This may just be because the last year was so perfect and I can't help but compare it to that, but last year I can't remember even the TINIEST bit of negativity coming from the women there (or from myself). And this year there seemed to be a tad bit more disrespect and disconnect (not in terms of anything major, but moreso in terms of people talking during shows, plunking down their big-ass chairs in front of you without making sure you can see, etc.).
But this could also be my own feelings being projected onto the festival... This year (despite being absolutely content with my love-life) I have a lot of really bad chaos and energies in my life at the moment--from my job, from some of the people I love, from issues that have arisen in my life over the past month. And the festival (try as it did) could not assuage them, and perhaps they spilled over into the festival itself. Perhaps I was not seeing quite so clearly as I could.
Strangely enough, one of the most centering moments of the festival was when I was feeling a bit of despair, a wee bit of disgruntlement, towards folks tonight--right then, I hit the last few pages of Franny & Zooey which I'd been working my way through all week (mostly during the monsoon rains). I was tremendously touched by the characters and by Zooey's advice:
"I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, the announcer was a moron, the sponsors were morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he had a very Seymour look on his face, and I did it. He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again...
...I'll tell you a terrible secret--are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know--listen to me, now--don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? ...Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy."
For joy, apparently, it was all Franny could do to hold the phone, even with both hands.
This is one of the most tender endings to a book that I've ever read. And it seemed to speak to me right when I needed it the most, reminding me that this love for others', this respect for others, is NOT just a woman-thing and can and should be freed from Michfest to spill over into the real world.
I have to remember and embrace this, dammit. And then maybe other people will too.]
Performances I saw today:
Film I watched tonight:
Day 8
Mama... mama, I'm coming home!
Labels: michfest
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