In this Bonus episode Chuck Wilde reads a short story about the night he met Michael Wilson on the last day of 2017. Michael is the featured guest of the first ever NOMAD THEORY podcast long-form interview episode, which can be found in Part 2 at https://simplecast.com/s/99177c80, on Spotify, or Apple Podcasts. The featured story in this episode took place a few days after Chuck returned from South America when the prospect of getting hammered at bars wasn't in the cards. Neither Chuck or Michael knew each other before the party, but Chuck went anyway due to a Universal call from some cosmic energy. Chuck still deems the experience "the best party of my life". Get to know Michael by hearing what a party at his place is like, then check out Part 2 for the real deal. Oh, and try to guess the bearded ceremony leader ;) Stay Wild Folks
December 31st, 2017
Home and Alone
I sat shaking maniacally in my living room submerged in a distinct feeling that I no longer belonged in this society or country. It seemed tragic at the time, but I bailed on all the homies who were set on drinking themselves into a stupor and sided for sitting around with a cup of coffee and notepad.
“New Year’s Eve? What’s the big deal eh? It’ll just be a bunch of drunken goons blowing this week’s coin cause they feel like they have to” I said to myself. “I’d rather chill out and get down on my priorities. Yeah that’ll be good, start things off right. Goals, habits, health - the usual jazz.”
Just as the caffeine dosage hit optimal sipping temperature, my phone lit up and displayed a slightly more uncertain path. An old friend sent over this invite to a notably abnormal Facebook event called Gathering of The Tribe with a message attached saying “Here’s a great thing you might be in to”. This person had a general track record decent judgement, so I momentarily abandoned my pathological neurosis and entertained the idea.
“Drumming, Dancing, EDM, Magical Peeps, Gifting, Fire Art, Healing, etc…” it said on the detail section.
“Well dagum doogy! I like all those things!” I shouted, “But who are these people? Is it cool if I just show up at their apparently new house? They don’t even know me.” Similar discouraging questions rattled around, but with the aid of my toasty mocha flavored stimulant, some buried desire fought its way through doubt and pulled my ass off the couch.
“I’ll just bring some Kimchi and everything will be chill”
I hopped in the truck and took off racing with my flute, jar of Chi, and a super amped attitude. Hats off to coffee and all the good folks who gave their precious moments transforming it into drinkable form, from the dirty bean-boys in Columbia to the white collar shipping execs in California - couldn’t do it without ya’ll.
As the mystery host proclaimed, I-79 was in excellent condition and I rolled along listening to classic Top-40 hits through the ages on 94.5 3WS.
“Oh, no, not I, I will survive!”
Oh as long as I know how to love, I know I'm still alive
I've got my life to live, and I've got all my love to give
And I'll survive, I, I , I will survive!”
The brand new crib came into view revealing its unique woodland architecture and warmly lit interior ambiance. I took a few faithful deep breaths under the stars before strolling up with a smile and peered through the window. Someone motioned to the back entrance so I wandered around and let myself in. There weren’t any suspicious comments such as “Who do you know here” like I remember from my Frat Boy days, but rather an amiable wave of hugs and smiles.
Speakers slapped a variety of 60’s rock to harmonize with the steady hum of laughter. Silky purple pillows and glowing balloons laid piled in the corners. Wafting tickles of zesty scents floated delicately around my nostrils. And people, lots of jolly, tangy people standing, sitting, and sliding about. The house’s walls and glossy wooden floor encapsulated the scene like a womb that would birth us into the new year with howling exuberance. It’s rare, and normally less than genuine to say, but I immediately felt welcome.
Within minutes, friendly wavelengths were exchanged and conversation ran further behind the typically gated depths of community than I’ve experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. It was like holiday party small talk became unnecessary due to some unspoken understanding that everyone there could be trusted. We jumped around meditating on topics such as modern day homesteading, articulating craft through feeling, cryptocurrency, elevated visual perception, diet dialing, western shamanism, and the apparent call to personal spiritual truth. I spent most of my time listening and tossing questions with a goofy smile.
“So you think we’re actually standing here talking to each other, or is it really just some grand perceptual illusion?”
“Good question. Well, if you consider the immense portion of empty space between the particles we perceive as physicality, and that there’s a large possibility of them shifting at any moment forming something completely different than what our bodies are experiencing right now. I suppose we are doing it. We are both standing here choosing to perceive ourselves talking. Ha, cool. Thanks for choosing this form of reality with me!”
“Fosho, anytime. Hey, I don’t even know your name, but do you want a hug?”
People brought their favorite vegan or veggie dishes which accumulated around the host mother’s spectacular production of sweet spuds, spicy zpacho, and savory squash soup. Party food usually hits my stomach with a thud and stays sloshing uncomfortably for hours, but this scrumptious selection of sustenance actually gave me more energy. We drank hyper-clean healthy water™ and downed Kombucha until my eyes wouldn’t close anymore.
All of these festivities happened before the clock even struck midnight. With about 40 minutes to go, the group congregated, cross legged, in a large circle in the living room looking each other in the faces. Our bearded ceremony leader got things started by succinctly sharing his intention for 2018 and passed along the torch until everyone got out all their year end jiggles. A theme of betterment reverberated through our remarks and were always answered with a resounding A’HO, which means, “I hear you” or “I feel ya bro!”, as I understand it.
My intention:
“Have gratitude for 2017 and all it’s waves of uncertainty, surfing them into the new year on a board made of whatever wisdoms I picked up from it’s many failures and successes. Also, on a macro-level, be a Wild Child (A human perceiving the “wild” aspects of nature like he/she/they were a 5 year old, while still maintaining all his/her/their experiential wisdom.) And to work at developing my voice through writing on a micro-level .”
The sharing session carried smoothly into a guided meditation, where a trained shaman initiate, aided us in visualizing a beam of energy flowing through our “Cuzco” or spiritual portal, down to the core of Earth, and back out towards the very edge of our physical universe. I’m really glad there are people living around Pittsburgh who won’t condemn you as a crackpot hippy goon for speaking in such terms.
Finally, as time tick’d and tock’d away towards its annual termination, everyone got up and rowdy. We snagged drums and the aforementioned ceremony homie started chanting, which strapped us onto a rocket that would launch The Tribe into 2018. “Vrooomhashasana, Vroomhashasana, Vroomhashasana!” My senses and emotions were reaching peak capacity and I thought they might actually explode, leaving me incapable of frowning for the entire year if there was even a single second more to wait. But sure enough, our voices commenced in shouting the most simultaneous and recognizable series of numbers in history.
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”
“Yeeeeeeehhhooooooaaaayyyyaaaaaaooooooo”
The intense drumming and hollering could be heard from across the pond, and didn’t settle for another 30 minutes or so. People slipped around dancing and singing to the tribal beats in whatever form they felt right. It was really just a big swarm of people feelin’ alright. I met and connected in a manner beyond simple acknowledgement with so many people over the next 7 hours that it almost feels like a dream. Indeed, we kept it kick’in -- ‘till the break of dawn. It was like a spiritual stimulant that could rival that of coffee, buzzing in our brains. But don’t get me wrong, I still like coffee.
I am extremely thankful to the hosts and grand variety of stellar souls who decided to get off the couch that night. This country is probably still screwed ;), but I might be able to get up on a new society, if all of you are part of it.
Peace out,
Chuck