Friday morning at nine o'clock she is far away

This post will be about hippie culture in general, in honor of Woodstock's 40th anniversary yesterday. And yes, you may be snorting and glancing at my title, for they are NOT the lyrics to Woodstock, by Joni Mitchell. You may be thinking that Lola is uneducated for all she seems to know her music... why wouldn't she use it? Well, for one, I already did, at the very beginning of the blog, using my probably all time favorite lyrics that I am busy at the moment embroidering on a shirt that I will post about later. And for two, everyone is quoting it, and unfortunately it is becoming cliche for this topic. Excuse me. Long ago has BECOME a cliche for this topic. And this lyrics omission for the title brings me to what I want to talk about in Hippie culture today. I would like to state one thing.

I am not a hippie.

This said, let me explain. Most people in America, especially people reading this sort of blog, know what a hippie is. The dictionary's definition is this- "(esp. in the '60's) a person of unconventional appearance, typically of long hair and wearing beads, associated with a subculture involving a rejection of conventional values and the taking of hallucinogenic drugs."

WRONG.

It says unconventional appearance. And yes, I concede that, for hippies, especially hippies in the '60's, to wear clothing and have an appearance that is, to say the least, "unconventional", was helpful in getting across a message, their ideology. But you don't HAVE to look different. All you have to do is believe in what you do, and do what you believe in, even though that belief is radical and is often "a rejection of conventional values". OK, beginning to ramble here. What I mean to say is, You don't need to look crazy or smoke weed or grow your hair out to be a hippie. And doing all of that does not make you a hippie, either. What makes a hippie, in my mind, is exactly what I said above about believing and doing. It's rebellion, it's life.

Hippyism is a way of life. A way of living, perhaps a way of dying, if you look at it from a cynical standpoint. But our current culture has transformed it from a way of living life to a way of wearing clothes. And it goes against all hippie ideologies. It's consumerism, it's overpriced merchandise that everyone wears that was made in a sweatshop in a third-world country. When people wear bags with rhinestoned peace signs, do they really mean they want peace for the world? Do these sort of people even understand such a concept? Or do they just want to look cool and "hip", coincidentally coming from the same root word that hippie came from, hipster. Do the teenagers who wear shirts that say "love" over tye-dye and sparkles actually practice such a thing? Do they love their parents, or do they scorn them? Do they embrace outcasts or bullies, or are they mean and exclusive be bullies back?

And they wear such things so that people can call them "hippies", for reasons that no actually hippie would be recognized for. Needless to say, I don't do this.

There are always labels put on people--my friends get the "wackos", the "freaks", some of us get the "hippies", including me. We wear these labels proudly, too. But like I said before, I'm not a hippie. I just sympathize with their culture, their values. I believe in Love, but I believe we need more than that to save people. I believe in peace, but I realize it is a flawed concept, at least for the nature of human beings. I believe in being calm and cool and relaxed, but I also believe in activism, in doing something about the problems hippies didn't like about society (which I might point out, so did some hippies). And I believe there are issues with the government, but instead of shunning them and scorning them, we should use them to show the flaws, have them help us save the world. Of course there is a different government today than in 1969, but still. And just by looking at the music I choose for my blog post titles, I think you understand I approve of that part of their culture scene.

And so I do my own thing, I don't conform to society, or at least try my hardest not to, and I wear what I want to wear and say what I say. But I do what I do because I want to do it, not because that's what hippies do. But that is what I am sometimes labeled anyway. Which brings me back to the beginning. I didn't use the woodstock lyrics as the title because, most importantly, they are exactly what a hippie (wannabee?) would use, and I am not one. So please, enjoy the Beatles in all their glory instead.

Whoever went to woodstock, I hope you had a good time, and I kinda wish I had been there yesterday. To everyone else, point made. I just hope that now you might see the world through my eyes, which I guess is the point of this blog. Well, revelation to me!

Have a good rest of the summer. Enjoy it while it lasts....

-Lola

Title Quote: She's Leaving Home, the Beatles

I hear her voice In the mornin hour she calls me

Oh, what I would give to be a cat. Not a fat cat, who all her owner does is pamper her and feed her and pretend she's her baby. Nor a skinny to the bone cat, whose owner kicks her and shouts at her and uses her as a stress ball and never feeds her. Nor would I like to be an alley cat, alone. But what I would give, at some moments, to be a cat. A cat who was fed just enough and lived in the country, and was allowed to come and go when she pleased, a cat who always had someone there to half absent-mindedly rub her belly, but wasn't always after her, screaming and catching her tail so she would sit on her owner's lap. And then, as that cat, I would make a deep purrrrrrr of happiness. I wish humans could purr like cats can. It would release so much contentedness into the world. And did you know that certain purrs can help heal cats? I know, a bit off topic, but seriously, what other animal can make a noise that literally makes them better?

So where was I? Oh, yes, I would purr with joy, the noise running straight up my throat and finding it's way straight to my owner's heart. Then I would pad off and find a nice warm sunbeam and stretch out and nap and warm my fur. And at night, I would find my owner's head or feet and curl right up on them and sleep right there. When I (as a human) go someplace with cats, they are always attracted to me. When I stay over the night, I often find them, a reassuring warm weight, curled up on me. One of my most favorite things is to read a book and feel that reassuring weight purr on my lap. And I love that cats couldn't care less, that they do what they want, and when they want to. Not all of them in a spoiled sense. Just in a disinterested in the consequences sense. And I appreciate that. To not have to worry about how you act... what you look like... If I believed in reincarnation, I would most definitely wish to be a cat. And sometimes I do stretch out on the floor and soak up the sunlight. Sometimes I do place my head in someone's lap and feel them play with my hair.

But it's just not the same.

TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS WHAT ANIMAL YOU WOULD BE IF YOU COULD CHOOSE?

Title Quote: Country Roads, John Denver

Hey, he said, grab your things I've come to take you home

Roadside Thistle

She leaned over the

roadside, and found

the flower

snipped it gently between

thumbnail and forefinger

raised herself and

delicately placed it

between the folds of her ear

a curve

an overlap

a furl

ears are

so intricately complicated

yet solid and corporeal

with the

flower

tucked behind her

ear, she sighed

the wind blowing her raven hair

back, away from

the flower

its bloom pushing

up for air

amidst this sea of dark

just a roadside

thistle, purple petals

bloom even when

there's no one to see

but she saw

the plain beauty of

an ordinary unique

creation

purple speck

amongst so many other colors.

Title Quote: Solsbury Hill, Peter Gabriel

I've got soul but Im not a soldier

You know what's interesting? Look straight into a baby's eyes. The younger the better. Now what do you see?

There is a blankness in their eyes, a clearness. You can see that they know so little, they know next to nothing. And that makes them so pure.

But look a little closer. Hold out your arms and pick them up, look deeper. Isn't it funny that, when you look even deeper, there's so much intelligence? A wiseness that coexists with the blankness. They are so wise because they know so little. Because they know so little, they know so much. They just know it in ways that old, wise men don't. Because the have no boundaries, no rules. Everything is possible.

Pablo Picasso said that everything you can imagine is real. And that must be what babies see, what they think, what they know. If only they were able to speak, to tell us what they know, I think it would be revolutionary. But by the time they're old enough to speak comprehensible sentences, they have become accustomed to the rest of the world's way of thinking.

I think that instead of trying to teach the babies all the time, we should try and see what they have to teach us.

Title Quote: I've Got Soul But I'm Not a Soldier, The Killers

We can bomb the world to pieces But we can't bomb it into peace.

Isn't it funny to think, that while you're in a car, traveling at least fifty mph down a highway, so are all these other people? That there are just lots of little metal boxes with fragile human beings in their fragile little lives which pass you for a second and then are gone forever? That in one car, two babies scream for more milk in the backseat, while in another car, a boy is taking his first drive with a license, a dog panting on the seat next to him, and that in another car, unbeknownst to them, a couple takes their last drive together before one finds out that the other had been unfaithful. That such intricate dramas, romances, tragedies, and comedies can take place, and all of them confined in little metal boxes all on one stretch of long road is almost mindblowing. And even more so the fact that all these little complicated scenes are playing out on a few feet away from you, and then you pass them, and they are most probably never to be seen again.

But here's another thought--maybe one of those cars that you once passed on one of the many car rides in your life, held the most important person in your life, someone you might not see again for many many years? It's possible.

Title Quote: Bomb The World (Armageddon Version), Michael Franti and Spearhead

it's a joke nobody knows

This morning, my grandparents and I took a drive out to get some things. We picked up ingredients for dinner and a new pair of jeans for me, and then we drove back. (We're in Long Island, you see.) On the way back, I stuck my head out the window and let the wind pick up my hair and blow it backwards. All I heard was the rustling of the plastic bag beside me, the breeze blowing by my ears, and the murmur of my grandparents in the front seat. We passed by field after field, one with romping horses, the next with little buds of green poking through the dirt. We stopped at a little stand by the side of the road and I stepped out, barefoot, and carried beets and carrots, fresh from the ground, back into the car with me. As we flew down the road, a car going in the opposite direction passed through a puddle and it leaped up one side and over the other, a giant wave for an instant. As we passed by it, it was still bubbling and foaming from it's momentary action. Everything was so simple, and I thought it was so lovely as well. And then we got back to the house.

I am surrounded by green. Green trees, green bushes, green hedges, green grass. Green is the color of growth. It pairs with love. When someone is loved, or when they are in love, I could just imagine their heart sprouting little green buds, which bloom and let loose little seed pods of love, which float about and perhaps fall on someone else's heart, and the flower of love grows there too. And it goes on, in a cycle. So green can also be the color of love. I don't really know why people are always choosing pink and red, because if they're trying to be literal, as in the color of blood, then why are they drawing these strange upside-down teardrops sandwiched together? That's what I want to know. Green is a much better color.



Title Quote: Lenka, The Show

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine

Greetings, my fellow travelers, along this long confusing path we call Life. I, Lola Belly Button the First (I know, impressive title), is back in business. Let the blogging begin again!

I feel renewed from my camp, and have so many experiences to retell, and so many new things to teach. But I don't have all my pictures together yet, nor do I have the time to begin at the beginning, so I will leave that subject still sleeping, for the time being. I hope everyone's summers so far have been as rich as mine, with the new and the old things surfacing or resurfacing to be enjoyed once more.

What is your most favorite thing about summer? In the summertime, I get out of the city and either head far away off to my camp, or, later on, out to Long Island. There, in LI, there is a house, far down in Sagaponack, and that house belongs to my grandparents. It is the equivalent of two city blocks away from the ocean, that tumbles and roars and where people play by the edge of such a spectacular monster, and there are no lifeguards, no rules. It is a beach, not just the ocean with concrete or gravel laid up to the water. And because of this beach, even when the rest of the island is sweltering, our little house stays cool from the ocean breeze. And no one can see me there, I can do all that I want. And we have a pool, and green green grass, and in the very early mornings, I can run to the beach and there is a magical mist surrounding it, and no one is there, and I can dip my feet in the water or walk along the sand and find early morning glistening shells or there can be silence. And that is one of my greatest joys of summer.

So what's yours?

-Lola

Title Quote, Grateful Dead, Ripple

I need you (I need you) More than anyone darlin'

ATTENTION.

I will be leaving for an amazing hippie camp in about half and hour, and will not return and be up and blogging until august 1st or so, because there are no computers allowed there.

Thanks for understanding,

Lola.

Title Quote: Build Me Up Buttercup, The Foundations

I got headaches and toothaches And bad times too Like you

Today, my friends and I woke at 5 in the morning and headed off to Central Park, to see the cast of Hair, the tribal love rock musical, perform some of the songs from the play. Unfortunately, the performance was sponsored by abc.com, and television is mainly something I am opposed to. This meant that there were a bunch of people who hadn't come for the music, but to be on tv. We even met a woman who thought she as going to see hairspray! That made me angry, because that is completely not what the play, or the subject of the play,w as about. And then of course it was totally directed for the cameras, doing takes and retakes of each song until it was perfect. The audience was only there so that they could be shown, loving the performers. They literally told us, at times, when to clap and shout. And that is just selling out! The whole play is about resisting the system, doing what you want, being free. Grrrr. But there were others who felt this way too. When my friends and I got in to the area, the first thing we noticed was that there was astroturf place over the actual grass. But, later on, we found they couldn't completely get rid of nature, since after all, it was in the middle of a park. Sparrows were nesting in the supports of the stage, and as the performers sang, they would fly out, above everyone's heads.

So here we are, and there are bunches of people holding signs to the cameras and crowding around the stage. No one really is on it, and we can listen from farther away, so we set out our blanket away from the crowd and sit to eat our breakfast. Others, real Hairheads began to spread down too. We happily munched and crunched and when we looked up, we saw that three men, all dressed like Jimi Hendrix except for they were white, were setting up behind us. They had these wonderful, colorfully batiked flags that they began to twirl and spin and create colors in the air with. They let us try it. It was amazing, and they had just because they wanted to, not because they had been hired. I laughed at all the people in front of us, pushing to see an empty stage, while they were missing a real show behind them!

Finally, the cast began to come onstage, and we had a great time, despite the cameras. The music was amazing, and Berger (one of the main characters, the actor is Will Swenson) actually came down and took people's hands, and totally held on to his for about five seconds! Yes, I was extremely excited, thank you very much. Flowers in my hair, beads around my neck, I jumped and sang, and then it began to rain. Loving it, we reached up and pulled it down, in sheets of drizzly mist. It didn't dampen our party, it only made it better. Since Michael Jackson had died the day before, the cast of Hair did a tribute to him, by singing I'll Be There, and it was great. The concert ended, and we dispersed. My friends and I (to be exact they were the wizardress and Miss Lizzy) wandered away, and began to get ourselves back to school(we had missed the first hour or so, but it didn't matter since it was the last day of school).We stopped by Bethesda fountain, where oh, so many weddings are held, and listened to a man play Michael Jackson jazzy-like on his sax. We waded into the fountain until someone made us get out, then proceeded on our merry way. After getting out of the park and taking many detours, we came to The Wizardress' grandmother's house, and stopped by to dry off. Her house was filled with chotchkes. As we walked up the street, people stared at us strangely, especially since I was singing the lines of the title of this post over and over. I remembered how we looked and who we were and I was so happy that I was who I was and that we were the sort of interesting people tourists stared and talked about. I was so, so, happy.

If you would like to see what you all missed, go here and click on the let the sun shine in and aquarius links on the top bar, or just search for hair in the park. There is also the cast blog telling about all the actors if you did see hair, which I thought was pretty cool. You can see it here.

Title Quote: Hair, I Got Life

All the people are so happy now, their heads are caving in

This dose of funny animals brought to you by

Lola Bellybutton,

Blogger (if I do say so myself) extraordinaire

Title Quote: They Might Be Giants, Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes

My sky shoes are spiked with lead heels

This is one amazing artist: His name is Mark Wagner, and he makes art out of dollar bills. He very carefully cuts them up with an exacto knife and collages them together to create beautiful works that look nothing like dollars. Please check out his site or the first one, because I can only put up so many pictures, but here are my favorites:

Title Quote: Don McLean, Dreidel

I been dreamin' since I woke up today

Summer utopias

force down

idea?

Defenders tango

with entombing 

pride

a colorful dragon

breathes language

infernos

The ancient riddle

to folly incites

a fused serum.

title quote: Daydream, Lovin' Spoonful

Facing a dying nation Of moving paper fantasies

People are always writing disparities, agonizing on the state of the world. I see their words, assembled into loose personages, kneeling, their hands stretched out, trying to grasp at something, save something, that they feel they cannot. But really, perhaps you can.

Perhaps, as we live and move, as our brains whir about in our tiny brains that are so complicated when we magnify each particle, but are so simple when zoomed out and compared to things like the theory of Evolution, perhaps we are making a change. I think that to protest, to speak out and bring to light the shortcomings of the world, is really only half the battle. Now that people see  them, we must begin to right them.

I recently read an article in Make magazine, that talked about a man who was doing just that, trying to save the world. His plan was to feed phytoplankton (the lowliest form on the food chain, which krill then eats, which whales eat, or fish eat, which sharks and we then eat, etc.) iron oxide, which caused them to 'bloom', or prosper, grow. And for every iron atom phytoplankton consumes, it absorbs 100,000 carbon atoms from the atmosphere. That means that if you feed them this food, then they get rid of the co2 in the air, what is causing (in part) global warming. 1 ton of iron can fix 367,000 tons of co2. 

So why not do this? Why not let him get started, throwing around iron atoms to these miracles makers? Well, because people won't let him. People in companies who get ahold of the government, etc., who don't want him too for silly reasons. And most of those reasons are masked behind one real cause: This way to fix the environment would cost about $8 billion, while they believe that other ways would cost upwards $400 billion. And these companies are angry, because they would be getting some of that money to save the environment, but with this man relatively cheaply cleaning up the environment, they get no money. So, yes, these greedy people are endangering life as we know it for not just our species but the whole world--because they want some little green colored slips of paper. 

But if there are enough of us whose heads are filled with spinning whirligigs, who like to imagine what if... then perhaps we can do something yet. Per

haps there will be more of us than them, and we can rise, we can live and learn and teach and help and grow and thrive. 

And isn't it, as I am always saying, the point of life to be happy? Not in a short term sense, and not in a singular sense, either. But to be happy yourself, and to be able to try, at least, to make sure that those around you, and those yet unborn, will be happy too. I mean, really, what good is living, day in, day out, trudging to a job you hate, coming home to a house--either alone or with people who are not being who you want--unhappy? What is the reason? And you may say "Because I need to make money." Why? So that you can retire, and live an unhappy life then, too? For, in my experience, unhappiness the whole life just leads to more unhappiness later on. So why not start now by stopping such unhappiness, if only to be happy for an indefinite period in the indefinite future, and start now? 

You say life clings in balance, that it all must get done or it will fall apart, but why not just get rid of the whole system? Do that and the web of unspoken rules, that precious balance, is gone, and you break free, to do as you choose, and to make yourself happy and set an example for others. It's not about money or power; the most powerful, richest person out there may be and most probably is more sad than the lowliest, most poor person around. And really, no one can be happy if you aren't around, or there isn't an earth around, to be happy on. So that's where the long term kicks in Its not all just short joys, you have to plan and be happy as you do it, and make sure that later on, your kids, your grandkids, will have a place to be happy, and you will be happy then too.

But now, it really just sounds like a bunch of commercial fodder, used to make you buy something, or some sort of cheesy "everything is groovy, man" thing. And that's not what I mean. I'm just asking, would you chose billions of dollars, a beautiful spouse, millions of people to rule over, but no guarantee that you will be happy, or none of that, just pure, long lasting happiness? Really, which one? I'm trying to be profound ere, I'm trying to get across a message. I mean, after all, people who smile live longer.

Title Quote: Hair (musical), Flesh Failures (let the Sun Shine In)

Picture Credit: For the first two: Glynis Selina Arban, The last one is from an unidentified flickr user.

from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow

Rain pours and pounds on people's faces, and the faces scrunch up and try to blow it all away, but finally all those little drops add up, and the faces open up and accept the rain, that refreshes, cleanses, opening all sorts of infinite possibilities, and not asking for anything in return. The faces and the people attached tot hem do all sorts of things they might not of been thinking of doing the hour before: running, singing, splashing, perhaps sharing an umbrella, though I don't much believe in those silly things. And, sure, there are people who don't enjoy rain, times when it really is very unwanted and un-enjoyed, but today I am dwelling on its good aspects, those of which there are many. Have you ever noticed, that as you look out at rain, look through it's many mingling, swaying curtains, the colors of the world sway and mingle too? Until it is the color of rain and rain is the color of it. And it is not ugly, quite on the contrary, it is beautiful, even when the mud mixes in too. You just have to look at it the right way. 

I once sat in a stream, and watched as it swirled around my legs, and wondered, what was the color of water? Because to see it anywhere is to see the colors behind, before, and around it, but what was its own color? It had no name. WE had not invented such a word in our language. And I thought that one day, I might write a book, and I would title it The Color Of Water. Curious, about two seconds ago I googled those words, and found a book already written with such a title. Instead of disappointing me, it comforted me, because I knew that at least one other had taken the time to ask his or herself, what was the color of water? I can only answer that question in a poetic sense, answering that water is the color of a child's love; the color of never before opened eyes; the color of want, need; the color of life. And this I pondered and told my friend, sitting next to me, until the conversation came to rest on stardust, and finally the lyrics of woodstock, by Joni Mitchell, where she says "We are Stardust, We are golden", because we technically are made from stardust. During the Big Bang, stars exploded and imploded, and came about to, in the end, create all the elements, 111 of them, in the world. Though it is thought that at the beginning of the Big Bang, there was only Hydrogen, Helium, and Lithium. The world was made from star debris, as were we and everything else on it and in the universe, which makes us, in a convoluted sense, made from stardust. 

And, coming full circle to my beginning train of thought, makes us kind of sort of made, in a very very basic sense, from the same stuff as rain is made from. And not even in such that basic sense, as our bodies are about 60% water in adult men, 55% water in adult women, so we are a lot like rain. If it were not for the salt, we would essentially be crying rain. And isn't that a thought? I think I would be less embarrassed by some of my tears shed if I imagined them to be rain, doing the same thing as rain does. One of my most favorite things to do is to run through grass right after it has rained or while it still is raining, and afterwards, my feet feel as if brushed with the most expensive moisturizing creams; they are soft and supple. Rain is magical, wild animals know it enough, and so I think we better take a lesson from nature and open our mouths, laughing, when the sky opens up around us.

Title Quote: Led Zeppelin, Immigrant Song

Useless information Supposed to misfire my imagination

Hey. Going to Boston with my school tomorrow for three days. Wow. I just almost wrote family instead of school! Wowowow. Interesting... So anyway, we're going away there and hopefully I will have some great stories to write about it. But for now, I think I will write some more (still!) of my travels in Punta Cana (hope this isn't getting boring, I just have so much to tell!). 

Though this was a resort, there were a few interesting people. I mean, most were fat pink americans or tan, almost naked europeans, but there was bound to be a few people there that were someone we wanted to meet. After all, we were there, weren't we? And if we could possibly be staying here, so could others like us. (please excuse my sounding egotistic and self-centered, but I see no way else to explain it.) Here are a few more people I saw who seemed interesting, if not people I wanted to meet, at least people who were interesting enough to write about. 

On the beach one of the days, we saw a topless lady we nicknamed Sandy Lady, for she was covered in sand. Sandy Lady was tanned dark brown, not orange, like some people who overtan. She was slim, with a spiraling, swirling black tattoo winding up one side of her. She stood, in just her bathing suit bottom, playing over the sand. As we walked over to the water we noticed that Sandy Lady had buried her boyfriend in the sand and all that stuck out was his head. As we entered the water, Sandy Lady ran in too, and became no longer Sandy. She looked so happy and free. Maybe it was just her personality, but maybe it was the fact the she had no top to keep her in. We only saw about three topless women at this beach. I would have gone topless as well, no doubt about it, if only I had a friend to come with me. It would be too hard on my own, I think. It made me determined to go to a nude beach someday, though. This is how I feel beaches should be, especially since people wear practically nothing on, anyway. When I go to France (a goal of mine is to go there when I'm old enough to go alone) perhaps I will go to a nude beach there. 

On the beach, I was also interested by how these two men, presumably Europeans, as they were clad in speedos, walked down the beach. They walked side by side, and matched each other's steps exactly, so that if viewed from the right angle, it could have been viewed as one man. Neither man was trying to walk at the exact same pace, nor did either notice. That intimacy, much like the one I noted from this post, was just so very real, you know? I just seem as though I don't see it often. I mean, we're soaked in so called "intimacy" from the media, younger and younger children being able to watch people kissing and having sex in movies, but I feel that that just isn't it. I feel like other little moments, like the two I have already described, mean so much more, and it's sad that there isn't more of it.

Lastly, we saw a man with tattoos all over him. We were able to see them all over, as he was sitting in this ridiculous wet bar--where you sit on half submerged stools or swim around with drinks in your hand, gotten from a bar just plunked right in the middle of the swimming pool! Anyway, so he was sitting at the wet bar, wearing only a bathing suit, so we saw all these tattoos up and down his back, and they were pretty impressive, and believe me, I've seen my fair share of tattoos, in NYC and LA. He had a thin scraggly bleached blonde mohawk that was lilac at the tips. On his shaven head there was a brain tattooed inside a neutron. I thought that this was pretty cool, and it made such an extreme difference from most everyone else there. I wondered what his story was, how he happened to be here. I missed NY, with its diversity. I missed.

But then again, here I am, back again, and leaving tomorrow morning! Well, I better wrap this up now and go pack my bags...

write ya when I get back!

Lola

Title Quote: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction