When Lightning Strikes: LIB 2011
Some fun times at Lightning In A Bottle 2011 were had by guys in gold vests and green sunglasses. Photos by Adam Guzzon..
By Adam Guzzon
Special for Modern Times Magazine .com
June 7, 2011 — I woke up on Friday morning with no idea what I was getting myself into. I got dressed and headed out to get some free water and take a walk around camp. It was 8:30 a.m., and I walked the path between two janglin’ gypsies and a sword-spinning warrior wearing goggles. It was obvious that the roads I had traveled the night before had transformed me into lightning and placed me in what they call a bottle. They call it Lightning in a Bottle, because that’s what we were.
After exploring the campsite and meeting new neighbors, I headed back to my tent. I sat down on my front porch opened a Sierra Nevada, lit a cigarette, and began to mentally prepare for what was happening. It was too late for preparation, though. The lightning was already striking.
See photos of LIB 2011
The event was spread out and separated beautifully. The music stages were spread out over a few football fields’ worth of grass with a pond in the middle. Adjacent, was a lakeside dirt flat beautifully cluttered with tents and the like. Beyond the lower camping area was a hill that leads to the Temple of Consciousness and a more serene camping environment. Daily yoga, workshops, and meditation took place upon this hill.
My first interaction was with a longhaired Santa Cruzer who manned a recliner chair surrounded by two-foot gong bells. He felt my lightning strike and asked if I wanted to try. He sat me down, covered my eyes with a scarf, and told me to forget about him. A heavy bowl of bronze was placed on my chest and the frequencies began to sound. He worked his bell magic, synchronizing my brain into relaxation, and finished me off with a cleansing rain stick. “It’s happening,” I thought to myself. “Definitely happening.”
See photos of LIB 2011
Traveling down the hill every morning was a rebirth transformation. It was like having your soul cleansed with the purest potion the Goddess of Happiness could have ever developed. Then flown on a flag strapped to a wild horse galloping the hills in the springtime. At the bottom, juju spirits from every lightning bolt were bonding in fractals along the astral plane.
My fractal met the hand of a jeweler from Santa Barbara. This nomad festival fellow taught me the ways of the weekend within minutes. While praising Ken Kesey, he told me, “Just make your own video, dude. It’s your own video. Make what you want with it. Just do it.” I gave him a pale ale and he gave me a sandwich. The barter system was in full effect, ridding our conscious of the dollar’s existence. We spent some time at his camp, which turned into spending some time meeting every neighbor within 40 feet.
See photos of LIB 2011
With only the sun’s position to tell time, we prepared for darkness. After traveling and transforming up and down the hill, we were ready for what was to come. On the way to the electrified laser beam grasslands, we passed a middle-aged man in a grey and pink overall suit made of fur. “Wah-oh!” he screamed to us. This two-syllable piece of advice resonated my soul the entire weekend.
Whomp tones were being blasted from all directions, and dancing was free. LED hula hoops were spinning light trail tornados while glow sticks were being spun under the thirty-foot painted spiders. In the midst of fractal traffic, I met a wizard and alchemist from Santa Barbara.
His name was Sugar, and he channeled a sweet spirit by means of gems. Before bed, he opened his waist pouch and pulled out a manifestation rock. With a young lady named Bumble Bee, we joined hands and channeled our lightning to the heart of the rock. My legs became his legs, his hands became hers. We were one.
See photos of LIB 2011
The second day progressed and was just as epic as the first. I traded an iPod cable for a psychedelic sacred geometry painting, and fell even more in love with the barter based community. There was a market place that used cash, though. The scene resembled a standard street fair vibe.
Saturday night rolled out with Pretty Lights putting his audience into total fascination. His set gave us all a great idea of what the soultronic genre is. The light show pillars were tantalizing the kaleidoscope eyes of every lightning bolt there. Throw on some 3D glasses and it was even crazier. As if the visual appeal was not satisfying, the clouds above decided to mist down on us. The rain during that show provided a feeling identical to traveling down the hill every morning.
After dancing until sunrise, sleep was necessary. Upon waking, it was obvious it was Sunday. I spoke with a man wearing a head dress for a while who referred to the bummer moods as ‘ass-hole Sunday.” It was apparent that people were crashing, but I kept faith. At this point of physical fatigue, my mental energy was thriving. I had been living in a tent with minimal supplies, yet I had everything I needed. It was an epiphany to minimize, to process and rid myself of distractions. I know I was not the only one with this thought.
It was Sunday, and it was time to live. We were all in the right place, and the time had come. There were fewer smiles that day, but it only made me smile more. It was the least I could do for everyone after what they had done for me. Darkness fell and we rode gravity to the music.
See photos of LIB 2011
Thievery Corporation got started and instantly converted the crowd into a flowing sea of vibrating atoms. You could see the energy in the audience that night. It was slower than Friday and Saturday, but it was visible. Sunday’s sea of energy was the only effective way for the lightning to strike together. It was our last night living in the mountainous forest and we made it count.
The Do Lab certainly completed their job in creating and sharing this festival. The interactive landscape provided activities at any hour of the day and night. The volunteer staff worked together to keep recycling with recycling, and happiness with the people. I met a middle-aged man who had been to over fifty festivals in his life. He said that Lightning in Bottle was the greatest one he had ever been to. Hats off to the creative and compassionate people behind this event.
Some say Lightning in a Bottle is similar to Burning Man. Other’s say it’s Coachella transformed into a rave. Electric-chella, if you will. The comparisons do little justice, though. Lightning in a Bottle is what happens when thousands of creative minds flock to the hills equipped with bottles of magic. It’s an annual weekend massive, and what a weekend it was. But the energy generated at LIB goes on forever. There is no stopping this train. Until next year, lovely brothers and sisters.
Adam Guzzon is a student as well as a freelance photographer and writer from Oceanside, Calif.
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