"HAPPY BLISS!"
I heard that a lot at the
Blissfest Music Festival this past weekend. Celebrating its 30th year of culture, art and music ranging from Bluegrass to Celtic to Jazz near Harbor Springs, Michigan, the mood was, well, blissful. I was so caught up in the splendor that someone sneezed and I actually said, "Bliss you."
Honestly, this was all a pleasant surprise to me. I was more skeptical than anything when my sister invited me just days before the event; but as we built our tent in a field of wildflowers while Celtic music wafted from over the hill, I relaxed a bit and enjoyed the moment. It went even more smoothly when I pulled the cork on my bottle of wine.
I won't lie, I boiled my shoes when I got home, but it was worth every speck of dirt to watch
John Hiatt play at sunset; the breeze blowing across the green as the crowd sang along.
It was a bit of a "kumbaya" moment - or weekend, actually. Not once did I see a parent yell at a child or even one toddler have a meltdown. They played ball, climbed trees and basically cavorted around the festival without a care in the world. I tried to picture my girls here and had visions of grandeur about the two of them actually getting along for a weekend.
Reminiscent of a few Grateful Dead shows, though I only watched back then, I played my tambourine along with the drummers around the fire pit nestled in the woods. A twenty-something band of dancers twirled around the bonfire chanting into the night air.
I fell asleep in a tent under a starry sky and woke to full sun on my already sweltering sleeping bag. I was wishing we had thought harder about the position of the tent, but the smell of coffee from just outside roused me from my morning grumpiness.
Later that day I learned to keep a hula hoop spinning forever and listened to Jazz from the shade of a nearby tree. I melted into my surroundings and breathed lots of fresh air.
Eventually we had to pack up camp and head home. I think we stopped as many times on the way back as we did on the drive down, laughing all the way about stories that only we would find funny now. Beth will likely tell you that losing my top while practicing my new hula hoop in a McDonald's parking lot is still pretty funny, but I could care less. I'm going to do my best to keep this feeling for as long as I can.
HAPPY BLISS!
