Hey everyone:
I have finally taken a good hard look at Wordpress, and have decided I like their customization options more than Blogger. Therefore, if you would like to continue to read my blog, please hop on over to its new address at http://jennahasnoidea.wordpress.com/
Have a good day,
Jenna
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
and not a drop to drink
The ride up the west coast of New Zealand with my parents was definitely the best drive of my life in terms of sheer spectacular beauty. I don't know if anyone else has declared it so, but I'm pretty sure that New Zealand is the water capital of the world. Here's a video to prove my point:
that's just some of the waterfalls we saw in 2 minutes, on a more dry than wet day, within one small mountain range.
On one day, we saw glaciers, rainforest, rivers, and the ocean. My sense of space, of normalcy, of climate, was turned completely upside down. How could a rainforest be nestled next to a deep blue glacier? How could it feel like we were thousands of feet above sea level, up in the mountains near the clouds, and then turn a corner and see the ocean 20 metres away? I do believe I left my heart there, lodged somewhere between the Franz Joseph glacier and Hokitika. Given the redness of the water we kayaked in near Okarito, I think I'm not the first, as it was a rich and bloody hue the likes of which I have only seen previously attempted in Glacéau bottles. New Zealand water ranges from diamond pure to pigeon grey to azure to garnet, with all the medley in between. It was exquisite. If I had any foresight, I would have brought tiny glass jars and captured bits of water for memory's sake, but as I did nothing of the sort, I have only photos and words to remind me, which will have to be sufficient until I revisit the country. I do plan on going back, and doing so soon... It was far too quick a trip for me to absorb anything fully. Someday I will travel there for a year, exploring all that the woods have to offer, but for now, the brief trip will have to suffice.
Bruce Bay was a wonderful surprise... While driving, we noticed a lot of rubble up ahead, but as we got closer, it sorted itself into a place where hundreds (if not thousands) of people had come and left cairns and sculptures and words for the sea to someday recapture. The beach was a perfect fossiking location, having an extraordinary variety of sea smoothed rocks, from the purest white quartz to basalt grays with intricate lines drawn through, as well as driftwood and various shells. I scoured the ground for the right combination of rocks to describe & bind me to the land, and once I found them, stacked a cairn of my own. I left my motto scribbled on a piece of milky white stone, written in green sharpie, permanent only in theory: "Live Simply. Love Generously. Care Deeply. Speak Kindly". It seemed appropriate.
The cleverness and curse of New Zealand is that it is a tourist country. It relies wholeheartedly on tourism to exist in the level of affluence that it does. This means that every time you would love to see what's on the side of the road, there is a handy shoulder for you to pull off on, with a plaque telling you what you're looking at, but it also means that everything is expensive and someone is always trying to sell you something. It's a hard thing to wrap your head around.
I may have to keep on traveling at some point... Rumor has it that New Zealanders vacation in Peru, as it is an even more stunning country... I shall have to go and settle that argument one day.
After coming back, I briefly introduced my parents to the Central Coast and the Rhythm Hut. Interestingly enough, I didn't get nearly as much slack about my commune-hippie-musician lifestyle as I thought I would (although my mother did mention "career path", "Harvard Business School", and "financial security" multiple times within the days we spent together), and I enjoyed getting to show them around my neck of the woods. We even did all the touristy things in Sydney that I would never do on my own! It was a real pleasure being able to share some time with them (they hadn't seen me for 17 months), and I didn't realize how much I missed them until they were gone again.
The last thing I will post about, because it was just such an incredible experience, is a festival I attended called Confest. Located next to a muddy river 11 hours away in the middle of nowhere, it was the most amazing 5 days I have had since I left the USA. Confest (which is an amalgamation of "conference" and "festival") is an alternate living gathering, where people come to talk with each other and learn from one another. If you have something you want to share, you put it up on the workshop board, and teach whoever shows up. If you want to learn, you keep your eyes and ears open (or read the same board), and you're bound to find something interesting. I learned how to make pasta from scratch, and started learning some moves with a staff for Firespinning. There was a gypsy kitchen which we camped near: a communal place where you'd donate some food and walk in and cook whatever you could with whatever was there for as many people as you could. there was an art tent, with a bed in the middle, and you'd sit around and someone would come over and pose, and sit for you as you drew them. there was a massage tent with people willing to massage you for hours, and a sauna, and a mud bath, and unlimited firewater at night for spinners, and a drum circle at any hour of the day, and so much love and acceptance and joy in the air. Clothing was completely optional, along with the rest of societal expectations. Unlike most of my friends, I was completely sober for the whole thing, but still had the most brilliant time. If you ever go to Australia, I'd highly recommend it, and it happens twice a year, over New Years and Easter.
I met up with a friend of mine from Oberlin a few weeks ago, and she told me that I look younger and happier than I did when I started college in 2004. I believe her. I feel better than I ever remember feeling in my life. So cliché, but when you follow your dreams, and just go with what feels right, it's amazing what paths it can open and where your life can lead. I just feel so FREE all the time, so happy, so wonderfully me.
your moment of Zen this month comes from a group I cannot stop listening to:
Love: it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design,
An alignment to cry,
At my heart you see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be
Much love,
me
that's just some of the waterfalls we saw in 2 minutes, on a more dry than wet day, within one small mountain range.
On one day, we saw glaciers, rainforest, rivers, and the ocean. My sense of space, of normalcy, of climate, was turned completely upside down. How could a rainforest be nestled next to a deep blue glacier? How could it feel like we were thousands of feet above sea level, up in the mountains near the clouds, and then turn a corner and see the ocean 20 metres away? I do believe I left my heart there, lodged somewhere between the Franz Joseph glacier and Hokitika. Given the redness of the water we kayaked in near Okarito, I think I'm not the first, as it was a rich and bloody hue the likes of which I have only seen previously attempted in Glacéau bottles. New Zealand water ranges from diamond pure to pigeon grey to azure to garnet, with all the medley in between. It was exquisite. If I had any foresight, I would have brought tiny glass jars and captured bits of water for memory's sake, but as I did nothing of the sort, I have only photos and words to remind me, which will have to be sufficient until I revisit the country. I do plan on going back, and doing so soon... It was far too quick a trip for me to absorb anything fully. Someday I will travel there for a year, exploring all that the woods have to offer, but for now, the brief trip will have to suffice.Bruce Bay was a wonderful surprise... While driving, we noticed a lot of rubble up ahead, but as we got closer, it sorted itself into a place where hundreds (if not thousands) of people had come and left cairns and sculptures and words for the sea to someday recapture. The beach was a perfect fossiking location, having an extraordinary variety of sea smoothed rocks, from the purest white quartz to basalt grays with intricate lines drawn through, as well as driftwood and various shells. I scoured the ground for the right combination of rocks to describe & bind me to the land, and once I found them, stacked a cairn of my own. I left my motto scribbled on a piece of milky white stone, written in green sharpie, permanent only in theory: "Live Simply. Love Generously. Care Deeply. Speak Kindly". It seemed appropriate. The cleverness and curse of New Zealand is that it is a tourist country. It relies wholeheartedly on tourism to exist in the level of affluence that it does. This means that every time you would love to see what's on the side of the road, there is a handy shoulder for you to pull off on, with a plaque telling you what you're looking at, but it also means that everything is expensive and someone is always trying to sell you something. It's a hard thing to wrap your head around.
I may have to keep on traveling at some point... Rumor has it that New Zealanders vacation in Peru, as it is an even more stunning country... I shall have to go and settle that argument one day.
After coming back, I briefly introduced my parents to the Central Coast and the Rhythm Hut. Interestingly enough, I didn't get nearly as much slack about my commune-hippie-musician lifestyle as I thought I would (although my mother did mention "career path", "Harvard Business School", and "financial security" multiple times within the days we spent together), and I enjoyed getting to show them around my neck of the woods. We even did all the touristy things in Sydney that I would never do on my own! It was a real pleasure being able to share some time with them (they hadn't seen me for 17 months), and I didn't realize how much I missed them until they were gone again.
The last thing I will post about, because it was just such an incredible experience, is a festival I attended called Confest. Located next to a muddy river 11 hours away in the middle of nowhere, it was the most amazing 5 days I have had since I left the USA. Confest (which is an amalgamation of "conference" and "festival") is an alternate living gathering, where people come to talk with each other and learn from one another. If you have something you want to share, you put it up on the workshop board, and teach whoever shows up. If you want to learn, you keep your eyes and ears open (or read the same board), and you're bound to find something interesting. I learned how to make pasta from scratch, and started learning some moves with a staff for Firespinning. There was a gypsy kitchen which we camped near: a communal place where you'd donate some food and walk in and cook whatever you could with whatever was there for as many people as you could. there was an art tent, with a bed in the middle, and you'd sit around and someone would come over and pose, and sit for you as you drew them. there was a massage tent with people willing to massage you for hours, and a sauna, and a mud bath, and unlimited firewater at night for spinners, and a drum circle at any hour of the day, and so much love and acceptance and joy in the air. Clothing was completely optional, along with the rest of societal expectations. Unlike most of my friends, I was completely sober for the whole thing, but still had the most brilliant time. If you ever go to Australia, I'd highly recommend it, and it happens twice a year, over New Years and Easter. I met up with a friend of mine from Oberlin a few weeks ago, and she told me that I look younger and happier than I did when I started college in 2004. I believe her. I feel better than I ever remember feeling in my life. So cliché, but when you follow your dreams, and just go with what feels right, it's amazing what paths it can open and where your life can lead. I just feel so FREE all the time, so happy, so wonderfully me.
your moment of Zen this month comes from a group I cannot stop listening to:
Love: it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design,
An alignment to cry,
At my heart you see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be
Much love,
me
Sunday, February 28, 2010
In which our protagonist has plenty of opportunities to shout obscenities.
Warning: the following blog entry will be filled with unabashed exuberance. Those hating loquacious dialogue should skip this entry and read elsewhere.
you know you’re in the destination of all destinations when the Hawaiian next to you (who is 16 years older than you judged her to be, because she apparently stopped aging when she got to Maui) tells you she’s moving here because “it’s just so pretty!”
I have a confession: for the first 4 days of my time here in NZ, I was unimpressed. Everything was too stark, the mountains were barren, for a day I didn’t see much but sheep farms & grass, and while everything was pretty, it didn’t impress me much. Aoraki was gorgeous, but I’ve seen snow-capped mountains before in Colorado, with just as sweeping views and valleys (granted, never a glacier of that size with a glacial lake, but it didn’t stun me to silence, merely made me happy I was there). If anything, my father’s previous visit to this country 38 years before gave me overly high expectations: I was disappointed when we hiked to a glacial lake that hadn’t existed when he’d been here last (the glacier had receded a full kilometer in the spanning years), only seeing the effects of global warming in front of me instead of appreciating the fact that I still had some glacier to see. The silica-laced waters flowing into the lakes in the region were more blue than any I’d ever seen before, like the sky borrowed its color from the lakes, but that wasn’t meritous enough to travel to New Zealand for. Maybe it’s because we’re traveling in a caravan from holiday park to holiday park, but I felt that I was missing something in everyone’s gushing over how gorgeous New Zealand was, how everyone should visit it at least once in their lifetime. Is everyone seeing something that I’m not? I wondered. Am I just biased because I’ve seen so much magnificence in Australia?
Now, having experienced the west coast from Te Anau up to Milford, I’m dumbstruck.
Granted, I did get to see everything on two of the most perfect days in the whole year. In the area, it rains 2 out of every 3 days, and yet somehow we managed to go out on two spectacularly sunny days with nary a cloud in the sky. It was the third to last day of summer, and just cold enough that the sand flies weren’t out to suck our blood, but I still went swimming in Anita Bay, jumping off the second floor of the overnight cruise ship we’d booked with Real Journeys, which was just high enough that you got to shout a few expletives at your stupidity for jumping off something so high before you hit the water. Going back to the anchor point that night, we raced with bottlenosed dolphins, who no doubt were quite amused at our meager attempts to follow their movements with cameras. After a competitive game of scrabble with two women who had just gotten off of six months of work on Antarctica, I looked out over the water at the moon’s faint glow behind one of the cliffs, and wondered over how lucky I was to be here and alive and intelligent enough to appreciate it all. Down past the hull of the ship blinked phosphorescent squid, and you could hear sea lions gently whuff out as they surfaced in the blackness. In the morning, we saw sea lions and got close to a waterfall that I've only ever seen in movies and music videos. It was, quite frankly, astonishing. I was radiant for a good 15 hours flat.
I found out that I am not a tourbus person. The drives between Te Anau and Milford were far too exquisite for the brief moments the bus let us out to take photos. I wanted to explore the moss laden forest, to sweat in the crisp air and look around the river bend and absorb the area around me… in places, cliffs loomed austerely above us for thousands of feet, dwarfing us and the road below and making me wonder what kind of man sees a place like this and decides there needs to be a means for mankind to easily explore it. I am a nature freak, and going into the woods for me is often like visiting a cathedral; I settle into my self, feel more in touch with my core being, and aware of the things around me and my connection to life. These woods were the St Petersburg of forest, my mecca, my Jerusalem, my Borobudur, my Taj Mahal, my wonder of the world. The light streaming through the branches was more hallowed than any stained glass could ever hope to emulate; the sapphire river below was far more unsullied than any holy water.
Just when my life couldn’t get any more exciting and laden with adventure… I went skydiving this morning, 15,000 feet above the ground (actually 16,200 feet above sea level, which makes it the 2nd highest dive in the world) launched into the abyss of the sky coasting at terminal velocity for a full minute before gently gliding down to earth. I had a dream about it three days prior, in which I went through the whole training, and jumped, full with an instructor telling me to "scream up!". the real deal wasn't exactly like my dream, but it was pretty close... over just as i was getting comfortable with the whole affair, a stunning view of Queenstown and the surrounding mountains and rivers stretching out below. We passed through clouds at speeds so quick my cheeks flapped in the wind like towels out on the line. The scariest part was the jump itself; it was also the part least in my control, as I was harnessed to my jumpmaster, completely at his mercy on whether or not we'd go anywhere and when. For those of you who will ever come to New Zealand, the NZone jump that I completed with my father is the second highest jump in the world (they do one at Everest as well, but that's an additional 15,500 dollars).
you know you’re in the destination of all destinations when the Hawaiian next to you (who is 16 years older than you judged her to be, because she apparently stopped aging when she got to Maui) tells you she’s moving here because “it’s just so pretty!”
Now, having experienced the west coast from Te Anau up to Milford, I’m dumbstruck.
New Zealand is obscenely beautiful. It made me angry how stunning it was on the ride up to Milford Sound; no place should have a right to be that breathtaking, because if there’s the law that every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, then it’s not such a stretch to imagine that there must be an equal and opposite place for every location on earth, and somewhere on the planet it is downright grotesque, hideous, unimaginably wretched, because Milford is hoarding all this beauty. I told you not to come to Australia; stay the hell away from New Zealand. I feel like an overprotective father must feel with a gorgeous daughter; I want to stand at the front porch of the airport while oiling my shotgun and tell all the tourists who come in to keep their grubby mitts off, I know what they’re thinking and it just won’t happen, buddy, we’re not going to let the lot of you move in here, you gotta be home in 3 months. And (lest I need to remind anyone) I don’t even live here, so that’s a pretty bizarre emotion to be dealing with. New Zealand may have made me slightly crazy (or maybe I’ve just been traveling with my parents too long already). I don’t want to see anything else in the world; I’m done, there’s no up from here, I’ve seen perfection and I’m content if I never step another foot towards a new destination because nothing can possibly beat this. I plan on coming back in a year or two so I can walk on the Milford Trek, and when I die, I want my ashes spread here, because if there’s any off chance I’d haunt my burial ground, the sheer beauty here would put my soul at ease, and if it didn’t, I’d be haunting paradise.
Granted, I did get to see everything on two of the most perfect days in the whole year. In the area, it rains 2 out of every 3 days, and yet somehow we managed to go out on two spectacularly sunny days with nary a cloud in the sky. It was the third to last day of summer, and just cold enough that the sand flies weren’t out to suck our blood, but I still went swimming in Anita Bay, jumping off the second floor of the overnight cruise ship we’d booked with Real Journeys, which was just high enough that you got to shout a few expletives at your stupidity for jumping off something so high before you hit the water. Going back to the anchor point that night, we raced with bottlenosed dolphins, who no doubt were quite amused at our meager attempts to follow their movements with cameras. After a competitive game of scrabble with two women who had just gotten off of six months of work on Antarctica, I looked out over the water at the moon’s faint glow behind one of the cliffs, and wondered over how lucky I was to be here and alive and intelligent enough to appreciate it all. Down past the hull of the ship blinked phosphorescent squid, and you could hear sea lions gently whuff out as they surfaced in the blackness. In the morning, we saw sea lions and got close to a waterfall that I've only ever seen in movies and music videos. It was, quite frankly, astonishing. I was radiant for a good 15 hours flat. 
I found out that I am not a tourbus person. The drives between Te Anau and Milford were far too exquisite for the brief moments the bus let us out to take photos. I wanted to explore the moss laden forest, to sweat in the crisp air and look around the river bend and absorb the area around me… in places, cliffs loomed austerely above us for thousands of feet, dwarfing us and the road below and making me wonder what kind of man sees a place like this and decides there needs to be a means for mankind to easily explore it. I am a nature freak, and going into the woods for me is often like visiting a cathedral; I settle into my self, feel more in touch with my core being, and aware of the things around me and my connection to life. These woods were the St Petersburg of forest, my mecca, my Jerusalem, my Borobudur, my Taj Mahal, my wonder of the world. The light streaming through the branches was more hallowed than any stained glass could ever hope to emulate; the sapphire river below was far more unsullied than any holy water. The night before the cruise we went to see the Glowworm Caves of Te Anau, which were breathtaking… in pitch blackness gleamed thousands of points of green light, each one a glowworm larvae attempting to catch dinner. You wanted to explore Pandora, in Avatar? Well tough, the planet doesn’t exist, but I swear, this part of New Zealand is the next best thing.
Just when my life couldn’t get any more exciting and laden with adventure… I went skydiving this morning, 15,000 feet above the ground (actually 16,200 feet above sea level, which makes it the 2nd highest dive in the world) launched into the abyss of the sky coasting at terminal velocity for a full minute before gently gliding down to earth. I had a dream about it three days prior, in which I went through the whole training, and jumped, full with an instructor telling me to "scream up!". the real deal wasn't exactly like my dream, but it was pretty close... over just as i was getting comfortable with the whole affair, a stunning view of Queenstown and the surrounding mountains and rivers stretching out below. We passed through clouds at speeds so quick my cheeks flapped in the wind like towels out on the line. The scariest part was the jump itself; it was also the part least in my control, as I was harnessed to my jumpmaster, completely at his mercy on whether or not we'd go anywhere and when. For those of you who will ever come to New Zealand, the NZone jump that I completed with my father is the second highest jump in the world (they do one at Everest as well, but that's an additional 15,500 dollars).Last entry’s MoZ was lyrics from “Heaven’s Here on Earth”, sung by Tracy Chapman. Your Moment of Zen today is a slideshow of all the photos I didn’t show you in this entry, because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. There will also be youtube videos when I have a quicker connection.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
End of tour, why I have the best friends, and new horizons
Don't come to Australia. Australia will make you lose your tongue, exterminate your vocabulary, long for the days when you could call something "beautiful" and it would be enough. I've over-used magnificent, enthralling, verdant, spectacular, breathtaking, wonderful, gorgeous, thrilling, heartwrenching, etc, and I must come up with something new, some new language to describe the utter perfection of the world around me. I feel utterly inadequate in my ability to describe this continent, yet i continue to strive to do so, grasping futilely at wisps of language to capture the life in front of me. Australia is terribly, achingly, painfully beautiful, in a way that wrenches out my heart and leaves nothing but aspirations to perfection, to the idea that there is nothing wrong inside or outside me. I don't understand how such excruciating beauty can be met with anything but peace and love and the idea that everything is as it should be. Don't come to Australia. I want it all to myself.
Tasmania was inspiring. We went on a canopy walk through woods owned by Forestry Tasmania... 45 meters up and there were still trees taller than us! While parts were decidedly overgrown and were in obvious need of a controlled burn to stop a worse fire in the future, as a whole the experience and place felt slightly magical. The river that ran through the woods was a deep red from the tannins that run into it from the peat in the area, and so the river looked bloody, and from a distance above the trees, like some scaled, pulsating sea creature was slowly undulating upstream. There were ferns that were larger than Robert Wadlow's armspan towering above us, and I fully expected a brontosaurus to poke its head around a frond and watch us travel through its territory. Everything felt slightly surreal.
The next day, we went out on the Hume river, to try our hand at fishing and to see Tasmania from a different perspective. It was a sparkling sunny day, and I took this video:
just to give you a feeling of what I was looking at. That movie doesn't capture the seals we saw enjoying themselves, swimming around with their flippers out of the water, watching us idly as we sailed by. We fished, and once again, I was able to assert myself as hunter, although I wouldn't have been able to support a family, as my two fish were rather small. No salmon for us that night!
Leaving Tasmania the next day wasn't something I wanted to do... We stayed the night in a Hostel, exploring the local flavor (my god, the Germans are EVERYWHERE!) wandered a bit around Hobart, and wound up at the Botanical Gardens, which were wonderfully peaceful and well labeled.
But enough about Paradise. Melbourne was great, we had two nearly sold out shows, and then it was back home to Gosford! I was rather excited about coming back, getting ready for a new term of drumming, getting my body and mind back into developing my technique (much better to practice than perform at this point, as I'm still learning so much!), and getting back into my routine. A day after we got back, I turned 24. For my birthday, I was told to show up in the middle of Sydney and wear something pretty. I did, and my friends showed up and blindfolded me, then walked me down the street as I teetered around on my stilettos, laughing as they forgot to tell me when we were going downhill or uphill, and generally making mayhem. I'm sure other people thought we were freaks, or that I was being kidnapped, but I was having a great time of trusting that everything was going to be brilliant and that they wouldn't let me fall on my face. After a while, we entered a building (I could hear the sounds change), and then suddenly, I hear an announcement about getting seated because the show was about to start, they whip off the blindfold, and... They'd taken me to see Warriors of Brazil, a Capoeria/Samba Spectacle! We were actually sitting in the producer seats, best in the house, because the theatre had sold out of everything else, and it was a crazy wonderful performance, full of dance and movement and CAPOEIRA and music and drumming and story and song. What a great surprise! It was a thoroughly enjoyable night, even moreso because I could appreciate the effort that goes into a performing tour a bit more having just come off of one. Following dinner, we had a discussion about future directions for the Rhythm Hunters to take, and whether or not we would want to do a similar style of performance (The decision was no, it was far too sexy for us).
Now I am looking forward to visiting my parents in NZ in less than 2 weeks! I can only imagine what words will escape me there... we plan on hiking for most of the 3 weeks I'm spending there, which means I'll mostly be out in the bush. Expect tons of photos when I get back.
Your moment of Zen:
You can look to the stars in search of the answers
Look for God and life on distant planets
Have your faith in the ever after
While each of us holds inside the map to the labyrinth
And heaven's here on earth
Tasmania was inspiring. We went on a canopy walk through woods owned by Forestry Tasmania... 45 meters up and there were still trees taller than us! While parts were decidedly overgrown and were in obvious need of a controlled burn to stop a worse fire in the future, as a whole the experience and place felt slightly magical. The river that ran through the woods was a deep red from the tannins that run into it from the peat in the area, and so the river looked bloody, and from a distance above the trees, like some scaled, pulsating sea creature was slowly undulating upstream. There were ferns that were larger than Robert Wadlow's armspan towering above us, and I fully expected a brontosaurus to poke its head around a frond and watch us travel through its territory. Everything felt slightly surreal.
The next day, we went out on the Hume river, to try our hand at fishing and to see Tasmania from a different perspective. It was a sparkling sunny day, and I took this video:
just to give you a feeling of what I was looking at. That movie doesn't capture the seals we saw enjoying themselves, swimming around with their flippers out of the water, watching us idly as we sailed by. We fished, and once again, I was able to assert myself as hunter, although I wouldn't have been able to support a family, as my two fish were rather small. No salmon for us that night!
Leaving Tasmania the next day wasn't something I wanted to do... We stayed the night in a Hostel, exploring the local flavor (my god, the Germans are EVERYWHERE!) wandered a bit around Hobart, and wound up at the Botanical Gardens, which were wonderfully peaceful and well labeled.
But enough about Paradise. Melbourne was great, we had two nearly sold out shows, and then it was back home to Gosford! I was rather excited about coming back, getting ready for a new term of drumming, getting my body and mind back into developing my technique (much better to practice than perform at this point, as I'm still learning so much!), and getting back into my routine. A day after we got back, I turned 24. For my birthday, I was told to show up in the middle of Sydney and wear something pretty. I did, and my friends showed up and blindfolded me, then walked me down the street as I teetered around on my stilettos, laughing as they forgot to tell me when we were going downhill or uphill, and generally making mayhem. I'm sure other people thought we were freaks, or that I was being kidnapped, but I was having a great time of trusting that everything was going to be brilliant and that they wouldn't let me fall on my face. After a while, we entered a building (I could hear the sounds change), and then suddenly, I hear an announcement about getting seated because the show was about to start, they whip off the blindfold, and... They'd taken me to see Warriors of Brazil, a Capoeria/Samba Spectacle! We were actually sitting in the producer seats, best in the house, because the theatre had sold out of everything else, and it was a crazy wonderful performance, full of dance and movement and CAPOEIRA and music and drumming and story and song. What a great surprise! It was a thoroughly enjoyable night, even moreso because I could appreciate the effort that goes into a performing tour a bit more having just come off of one. Following dinner, we had a discussion about future directions for the Rhythm Hunters to take, and whether or not we would want to do a similar style of performance (The decision was no, it was far too sexy for us).
Now I am looking forward to visiting my parents in NZ in less than 2 weeks! I can only imagine what words will escape me there... we plan on hiking for most of the 3 weeks I'm spending there, which means I'll mostly be out in the bush. Expect tons of photos when I get back.
Your moment of Zen:
You can look to the stars in search of the answers
Look for God and life on distant planets
Have your faith in the ever after
While each of us holds inside the map to the labyrinth
And heaven's here on earth
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tour update #3- Bangalow to Tasmania
I am writing this from Tasmania, the place my friend Mike calls “the land down under the land down under”, having just finished a gorgeous meal of Atlantic Salmon, Pinot Noir, and steamed vegetables, all caught/grown within 30 meters of the kitchen. I am blissfully digesting, enjoying relaxing for a few days before the last leg of our tour in Melbourne
After Woodford, we drove down to Bangalow, but spent the night at a place called the Rainbow Temple
The best part though, for me, was the day after, as I went with some of the Hunters to Minyon Falls Minyon Falls Costa Rica
Afterwards, it was a long drive back to the hut, to sleep before the gig at the Basement. The Basement was great, we had a pretty large turnout, with a lot of familiar faces supporting us. There was a guy who mentioned us touring in Hollywood Tasmania
Now we’re staying with friends of Ren on the Huon River , in Castle Forbes Bay
Much love to all of you, take care!
Your moment of Zen is a commercial we did for Oxfam… check it out, I’m on the left in Sydney
Friday, January 1, 2010
Tour Update #2- New Years Eve
wow. That about sums up New Years Eve.... just WOW. Last night was... magnificent. Extraordinary. Outstanding. Magical. Cathartic. Amusing. Wondrous. Humbling. Definitely the best New Years Eve that I have ever had.
I woke up rather early, 7am, and went for a stroll towards the Amphitheatre, the largest stage of the festival and the site of our New Years countdown. It was empty in the morning, and I just stood on stage, savoring the space in front of me, worrying about the threat of rain and the pressure of performing in front of so many people on such a huge night.
Our first show at the Grand was filled with energy, even though we had a score of technical problems... Sticks breaking more frequently than normal (we usually go through at least 20 per show, but we needed to restock them twice during the middle for Joe), microphones malfunctioning and slipping out of costumes, so many things that could have gone wrong did. Personally, it was the worst Ladoai performance I'd performed yet, missing a signal and drumming in the wrong direction, not hearing one of the calls so that I kept on going up when everyone else was down... The crowd loved us though, and I made a mental vow to perform perfectly at our second performance at the Amphitheatre, treating the Grand as a rather crowded dress rehearsal.
The official New Years performance was amazing, it started with a 3 minute long silence, and then we started with a bang!
I can report, with relief, that I didn't stuff up Ladoai on the Amphitheatre. However, being the über klutz that i am, I did trip over my own pants on my way out to perform, and went sprawling in front of who-knows-how-many people...
I hurt my knees pretty badly (they're sore today), but got up and kept on going... no stopping on New Years Eve! The crowd's energy made it so that I hardly felt anything but massive enthusiasm...
When our part of the performance was over, we combined with other drummers for a 10 minute long countdown... it started with body percussion, then moved to drumming, and that's about when I got too enthusiastic and dropped my rapaii (hand drum) on stage... yeah, so I was twice the klutz, and totally embarrassed, but i don't think anyone else cared that much, they were too busy jumping up and down and dancing.
All in all, with the blue moon gracing the sky, the clear sky at midnight, the fact that it was my 4th performance with The Rhythm Hunters, and the goodwill and love emanating from everyone, I'd say it was the most incredible night I've had for new years EVER! Definitely makes up for not doing anything last new years eve... Who knows when I will get a chance to perform like that again... how incredible!
Much love to you all,
Jenna
I woke up rather early, 7am, and went for a stroll towards the Amphitheatre, the largest stage of the festival and the site of our New Years countdown. It was empty in the morning, and I just stood on stage, savoring the space in front of me, worrying about the threat of rain and the pressure of performing in front of so many people on such a huge night.
Our first show at the Grand was filled with energy, even though we had a score of technical problems... Sticks breaking more frequently than normal (we usually go through at least 20 per show, but we needed to restock them twice during the middle for Joe), microphones malfunctioning and slipping out of costumes, so many things that could have gone wrong did. Personally, it was the worst Ladoai performance I'd performed yet, missing a signal and drumming in the wrong direction, not hearing one of the calls so that I kept on going up when everyone else was down... The crowd loved us though, and I made a mental vow to perform perfectly at our second performance at the Amphitheatre, treating the Grand as a rather crowded dress rehearsal.
I can report, with relief, that I didn't stuff up Ladoai on the Amphitheatre. However, being the über klutz that i am, I did trip over my own pants on my way out to perform, and went sprawling in front of who-knows-how-many people...
I hurt my knees pretty badly (they're sore today), but got up and kept on going... no stopping on New Years Eve! The crowd's energy made it so that I hardly felt anything but massive enthusiasm...
all images in this post courtesy of Alexander Ross
All in all, with the blue moon gracing the sky, the clear sky at midnight, the fact that it was my 4th performance with The Rhythm Hunters, and the goodwill and love emanating from everyone, I'd say it was the most incredible night I've had for new years EVER! Definitely makes up for not doing anything last new years eve... Who knows when I will get a chance to perform like that again... how incredible!
Much love to you all,
Jenna
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tour Update #1- Woodford Folk Festival
Festivals are an entirely different world. People come to lose themselves in the atmosphere, to be whoever they want to be apart from normal societal expectations. Woodford is a week-long festival, which means that we're basically living in an alternate universe for 6 days. And what a universe it is!
People here jaunt around dressed up in fairy wings and lively tattered colors, elaborate feathered headdresses and facepaint, and sometimes, near to nothing at all. Everyone is bright, and happy, and friendly, and silly, and ridiculous, and... open. No odd glances if you just walk up to a group and start talking to them... people expect it. People share food, and drugs, and hope, and love freely and joyfully. If you've never been to a festival, a renaissance faire, a circus, you just won't understand what I'm talking about, the excitement you get as you enter the boundary between your world and this one, and how things that normally matter, all the little bits of stress and mundane idiocy that perch on your shoulders and build up and nag you daily, just melt away. You're not in your life anymore, you're a citizen of the festival. We are Woodfordians.
I have had the undeserved honor of attending Woodford as an artist, one of the people who entertains the masses. I have performed twice so far, and somehow, my first ever actual performance with the Rhythm Hunters (open rehearsals aside) ended up being in the Chai Tent this past Tuesday morning at 12:20am in front of 500+ people. I didn't deserve to be up there. It's not that I made many mistakes, but that I've only been working with the Rhythm Hunters since June, and had no hand in building the group up to the point where they have become worthy of Woodford (or any festival they might desire to perform at). However, I am deeply grateful that I was allowed the opportunity to perform, and fulfill the dream I've had since I first saw them at The Dreaming. What a reward, to be able to first perform with them in the site where I initially fell in love.
The night was fantastic. We rocked the tent, and in a place where people normally lounge and sleep and sit on the floor, we had at least 400 people dancing in front of us, with utter adoration and support. Beforehand, I was terrified. Afterwards, I was ebullient. Today, I am... sore. It's hard work, Ladoai, but so much fun and so utterly, utterly worth it. We had a few people come up to us after the show and tell us that we were the best act they'd seen, which is a huge honor, as this festival is also hosting the likes of John Butler Trio and Kaki King.
Of course, I've been terribly spoiled now... Coming to a festival as an artist, I've been taken care of extraordinarily well. Hot showers with good water pressure, free tea and water, an hour of internet access per day, people to dig ditches around our campsite for the tumultuous downpours of rain that have interspersed the hot day... The best part is being able to watch a show from backstage if there are too many people in front. I will be even more spoiled after tomorrow night, when we perform in front of 15,000+ people counting down to the New Year. I am not worthy of this yet, but accept and marvel at it with full humility. It helps that I am faceless once I leave the stage; no one recognizes individuals from The Rhythm Hunters unless they're looking out for us specifically... as a group, especially one so adaptable as the Hunters, the individual identities are far less important than the movement and music of the whole, so that our recognition is through the stability and coordination of our rhythms. Any and all of us are replaceable, and probably will be at some point, through injury or choice. It remains to be seen what will happen after Woodford; how the group will take off (if it takes off), what people will want from us. I am just deliriously happy that I get to be a part of all of it. We have an amazing opportunity in front of us... How did I get so lucky? What are the odds that my life would work out just like this? I am amazed and in awe of the universe. There is nothing but potential in front of me. May I work hard to deserve it and shape it. This new year, my resolution is to be the person who is worth all of the luck I've had thrown at me. I've got tall boots to fill, but I go into it with eyes fully open, arms wide, and with great love in my heart. Let 2010 begin!
People here jaunt around dressed up in fairy wings and lively tattered colors, elaborate feathered headdresses and facepaint, and sometimes, near to nothing at all. Everyone is bright, and happy, and friendly, and silly, and ridiculous, and... open. No odd glances if you just walk up to a group and start talking to them... people expect it. People share food, and drugs, and hope, and love freely and joyfully. If you've never been to a festival, a renaissance faire, a circus, you just won't understand what I'm talking about, the excitement you get as you enter the boundary between your world and this one, and how things that normally matter, all the little bits of stress and mundane idiocy that perch on your shoulders and build up and nag you daily, just melt away. You're not in your life anymore, you're a citizen of the festival. We are Woodfordians.
I have had the undeserved honor of attending Woodford as an artist, one of the people who entertains the masses. I have performed twice so far, and somehow, my first ever actual performance with the Rhythm Hunters (open rehearsals aside) ended up being in the Chai Tent this past Tuesday morning at 12:20am in front of 500+ people. I didn't deserve to be up there. It's not that I made many mistakes, but that I've only been working with the Rhythm Hunters since June, and had no hand in building the group up to the point where they have become worthy of Woodford (or any festival they might desire to perform at). However, I am deeply grateful that I was allowed the opportunity to perform, and fulfill the dream I've had since I first saw them at The Dreaming. What a reward, to be able to first perform with them in the site where I initially fell in love.
The night was fantastic. We rocked the tent, and in a place where people normally lounge and sleep and sit on the floor, we had at least 400 people dancing in front of us, with utter adoration and support. Beforehand, I was terrified. Afterwards, I was ebullient. Today, I am... sore. It's hard work, Ladoai, but so much fun and so utterly, utterly worth it. We had a few people come up to us after the show and tell us that we were the best act they'd seen, which is a huge honor, as this festival is also hosting the likes of John Butler Trio and Kaki King.
Of course, I've been terribly spoiled now... Coming to a festival as an artist, I've been taken care of extraordinarily well. Hot showers with good water pressure, free tea and water, an hour of internet access per day, people to dig ditches around our campsite for the tumultuous downpours of rain that have interspersed the hot day... The best part is being able to watch a show from backstage if there are too many people in front. I will be even more spoiled after tomorrow night, when we perform in front of 15,000+ people counting down to the New Year. I am not worthy of this yet, but accept and marvel at it with full humility. It helps that I am faceless once I leave the stage; no one recognizes individuals from The Rhythm Hunters unless they're looking out for us specifically... as a group, especially one so adaptable as the Hunters, the individual identities are far less important than the movement and music of the whole, so that our recognition is through the stability and coordination of our rhythms. Any and all of us are replaceable, and probably will be at some point, through injury or choice. It remains to be seen what will happen after Woodford; how the group will take off (if it takes off), what people will want from us. I am just deliriously happy that I get to be a part of all of it. We have an amazing opportunity in front of us... How did I get so lucky? What are the odds that my life would work out just like this? I am amazed and in awe of the universe. There is nothing but potential in front of me. May I work hard to deserve it and shape it. This new year, my resolution is to be the person who is worth all of the luck I've had thrown at me. I've got tall boots to fill, but I go into it with eyes fully open, arms wide, and with great love in my heart. Let 2010 begin!
image courtesy Alexander Ross
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
