Posted by Prana dancer on Monday, April 30, 2001 at 10:58PM :
I’m back from the Bantu Mystic Family Circus
(www.easystreets.com/circus)in LA - and oh, what a
circus it was, in it's pathetic but poignant
ineffitability!
Well over 200 of us caravaned down to LA, and
transformed a warehouse to a sanctuary, constructing
two stages from scratch getting ready for the "debut"
performance. And so we began, beautiful altars
everywhere, outside some bands played and side acts
performed, inside tai chi and a yoga session that
ended with the whole room connecting hands and feet
and breathing together. From the makeup tent where
two women had just finished transforming about 20
women into owls, right before the beginning of the
love feast, I heard the music stop. The LAPD made
everyone go outside - we just want to count the number
of people because of fire code safety they said; but
once everyone was outside they refused to let us
re-enter, citing too many people, fire code violations
& failure to go through the proper permitting
channels. At least 6 cop cars, more than a dozen
officers and a helicopter were on call to partake in
the spectacle; cordoning off the entrances and
barracading the whole block, more afraid of the
peaceful and loving group of artists than the green
beer guzzling St.Patricks day revelers driving around
LA or whatever other goings on that go on in the
surrounding concrete industrialized downtown.
Lit up by the police helicopter and the glaring lights
of the cop cars, the musicians continued to play, the
clowns wailed big clown tears (WAH WAH WAH) and the
group chanted “Yo He Vad He”. A green marionette and
the tarts tried negotiating and the grandmother owls
serenaded the LAPD informing them of them that “great
pearls of wisdom lie inside you” in three part
harmony, but instead of recognizing those pearls they
insisted on just following orders, ordering dispersion
of an illegal assembly, as if the constitutional right
of freedom of assembly is void in the city of angels.
Admist threats of arrest, the drum circle continued to
rage moving beyond the barracade, while plans were
laid to reconvene at various parties, other folks
retreated to vehicles and places of solitude, opting
for sleep or refuge to assimilate burst expectations
and various levels of disgust and frustration.
Others were allowed back inside to tear down what we
had just finished setting up and had spent a good part
of the last three months of our lives working to
create, with lots of love and a fair dose of chaos and
frustration throughout the process. Around four am,
after the sound system, lights, and altars had mostly
been torn down, a surreal stream of circus people &
devotees floated back through the door. The cops had
grown weary or empathetic or perhaps satiated having
handed out some citations and were nowhere to be seen.
In the context of the much larger ritual, the ritual
performance ensued, in a scaled down form, partially
in the dark, absent the fire except for that which
comes from within, raw and exposed, our egos as
stripped as the healing dome, where only the metal
beams of the frame still stood. It was no longer a
performance. It didn’t matter anymore whether it had
been rehearsed enough or not. Whether there was an
ending or not. Whether the story translated or not.
And whether it all made sense or not. We did the
ritual simply because it needed to be done. For
ourselves. For each other. The sound system was
brought back in and the hard core danced as a cast
member stood outside on the corner with the unused
tickets handing them out as admission to the sunrise
as we watched the new day be born.
And then we stayed to break it all down, working till
early afternoon, sweeping the space clean, leaving no
trace. Eating vegan spring rolls and sushi by the
score, left over from the love feast that wasn’t to
be. Saying goodbye, we scattered, with several folks
reconnecting at Venice Beach, where the Sunday drum
circle was in full swing. And once again, the circus
vibrancy attracted the police. A helicopter circled
overhead, lighting up the stiltwalkers, dancers, and
drummers, ordering the crowd to disperse, for no
apparent reason. The drum circle had been a tradition
for forty years; a shopkeeper on the main strip said
that it had never been broken up the way it was on
Sunday. For no apparent reason. There wasn’t even a
bonfire. Was it the numbers? The fact that the sun
had set? They didn’t say. They just told us to
leave, and drove their trucks into the crowd when we
didn’t.
So much fear. About what? About what could be
created if people felt free to come into their power,
shine brightly, find their voices, find community, be
inspired and inspire others? Isn’t that what America
is supposed to be based on, freedom of expression,
freedom of assembly? In a land of cul de sacs,
cubicles, and on line dating, it’s more important than
ever to consciously create the society we wish to live
in, where we can truly look one another in the eye,
where we can work and play together and recognize and
honor each others unique talents and backgrounds as
part of the greater whole. Where we can live in love,
not fear. To the extent that this circus - and all
the other synchronystic instances of coming together
and recognizing family all over the globe and the need
to work together to heal ourselves and our planet- are
about sowing these seeds, there’s a lot of gardening
to be done.
-- Prana dancer
-- signature IaAb/.
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