Wow. What can I say? This one day at Komasket was unlike anything I had imagined. Looking back, it seems like it lasted for much longer than 24 hours. I woke up, I warmed up, I played, I tossed the disc, I sweated, I shared several unforgettable meals with several unforgettable people, I waded in the water, I ogled all the cherubic children toddling around, I ogled all the gorgeous women in their gorgeous handmade clothing, I got a back massage in the performer’s tent and had a wonderful discussion with my skilled masseuse, and I did so much more! That’s twice as much as I’d do in a month back at home.

komasket_tipi-top.jpg
How can you have a bad day when you wake up to this?

What happens at a music festival to charge the air with good will and familiarity? I was cautious with my expensive musical gear, but I left it relatively unguarded. I spoke with strangers, even accepted food from them, and felt more safe than holed up in my basement at home. I hugged impetuously. I walked in my bare-feet unflinchingly. I slept soundly among thousands.

I remember my first visit to the Winnipeg Folk Fest many years ago. For the first few days I experienced a pocket of humanity unlike anything I’d encountered before. Accidentally stepping on someone’s toe would more likely bring about a new friendship than a new animosity. Children roamed free, food exchanged generously and there was a blanket of camaraderie over the entire festival.

By Sunday night, however, I was starting to sense the return of a more restrained joviality. Folks were still friendly, but a readjustment was necessarily taking place to protect from the inevitable shock upon re-entering the real world. Why must we go back?

I left Komasket before the sparkles had time to fizzle. I can’t wait to go back!