Ocala from the Rainbow Spirit

Actually, It's nice to see everyone Correct when you read over the Personal Babylonia or if I had
some dank dumpster-dove Bread.... it'd be B-O-L-O-G-N-A.
Anywhowever, Visions have been strong in the forest & all coincide with the Rainbow Spirit. Da
Phish Kidz were 1st to speak of this and were willing to move to Farles.....till the visions became
stronger and even those unknowingly or mislead from the spirit, will choose the correct site for
council. It has been stated, Now being stated & will be stated at council. Destiny is a beautiful
thing once accepted.


From the Rainbow Spirit:

The Gathering Shall be held at a Past site where the birth of a Rainbow Child happened over a decade
ago. This site needs the kindness & love brought to her as her beauty is one of the last that hasnt
faced the Babylon Guillotine.

Now that we see EVERYONE is right (ie: I dont like bad coffee, agro dogs, permits, bugs or Babylon)
in some form for our Mother, Let's love her while we can. The Rainbow Spirit weeps for Babylon during
this NEXT decade.


too_informed

 

Third Hammock Farles Prarie is Florida Family's traditional council site. Farles was used for a full gathering in 1995 and 2000 and was originally expected to be this years site. That was before the hurricanes dropped over 25 inches of rain and put the place underwater. The site is still very wet (as of a couple of weeks ago when I was there) and even if it drys, the chiggers left behind by the water will be brutal. Permitted site likely to be elsewhere.

With love and support for family in the woods, at Logos, Buck Lake or elsewhere, those who come to council will have their voices heard. Lots of thoughts and lots of oportunities for all the colors of the rainbow to shine. Be there or be square.

With Love,

Barry

 

let us all pray to be blessed this year where ever our heads may lay. In a tent,car, bus,trailor or house we all deserve respect.

 

Cool Poll. I have to respond NOTA. '97, back in the Late Pre-Barrian Epoch, was my first Ocala. Pronoid and I had just come Home from Cincinatti. Fitst thing I saw was a couple of hippies sitting by a front gate fire talking about head lice. Welcome Home, indeed!

 

Umm turnup another hippie was a choice????

Barry has been an active part of the rainbow family long before 97, whether this is good or bad is a personal opinion. I personally like Barry, its not him that will keep my family away from Ocala, but the multitudes of "better than thous" and worse the multitude of drainbows, spangers, and general mayhem causers that make me remember that i left the last Ocala I was at, because its not a place I could feel safe with my family.

 

I was reading fast, and had other things on my mind. Mea Culpa. Hazards of using a public access terminal, and all that.

Hmmm...I have heard that he was not involved with Rainbow till '95. In any case, I place the begining of the Barrian Epoch at the end of the '97 Ocala, with the genesis of the ODF/FARF fiasco.

 

Bashing Barry is best kept on the AGR, we like to keep things positive here!!

 

Thank you.

I have tried in this group not to play into the troll game. If I stray, please nudge me...

The truth is I have great love for all and like for most and that is what keeps me going. Looking forward to a year with less Rainbow Politics not more and with time to correct misconseptions, face to face, as family.

The permit was done, in my opinion, to generate peace in one little corner of the world and if that means that I have had to take some heat for it, so be it. This year however, I will be out of that process, leaving that to council, and happily so...

See ya in Ocala....

With Love,

Barry

 

as i understand it there had been some poor soul coerced into signing a permit for a few years before someone (barry) decided just to sign one. It sucks, I don't like permited gatherings, I also don't like the idea of some poor soul being harrassed, scared and possibly physically hurt because the Leo's don't care about rights and laws all they want is someone to fill out the proper papers. A house divided cannot stand. The first rule of war is to divide and conquer. As Long as they have us fighting with each other we won't have the strength needed to fight them, after all it worked with the natives.....

 

You could not be more right busmama, thank you so much for that. We really do need to focus on that instead of all this drama about who did what and on and on.

 

My first experience at Ocala was a couple of people saying "Just get here? Welcome Home, Brother."
Quite different from most places I go to.

Haven't been to Ocala in a couple of years though, because it got too crazy, and I just don't have time to make it up there.

 

This is somewhat true with regard to the North American 4 July Annual Gatherings, but most definitely NOT true with regard to Ocala. I suppose it could be said that permit signing at Ocala was coerced, (Paying your income tax is coerced...) as the Feds had a presence there of equal force to the force they had at the N.A.4 July Annual Gatherings, while Family force there was much less. The purpose of complying with the Non-Comercial Group Use Regulations was to keep the Federal Goon Squad of Jackbooted Thugs out of the Ocala Gathering. My problem with Barry is not that he signed a permit which limits the amount of force the Feds can (legaly) use against us. My problem with him is that last year, he (aparently) forgot that that the purpose of complying with the Permit Regs was to keep the Federal Jackbooted Thugs out. He threatened to invite them in, as one camp was making Loud, Obnoxious Noises, and threby spread panic through half the site.

 

There is no doubt that I acting improperly in threatening that and thank you for giving me the opportunity to publically apologize. I was wrong and I am sorry for it.

For the record, all I did was threaten, scream whoop and hollar, but I called no one... as I think you are aware.

I am really glad that I will be deep in the woods this year, leaving others to do a better job then I, as I am sure they will. I hope to get a chance to cook a bit, dig some shitters and just be with family. I just can' wait.

Hoping to see all there and let all see a quieter side of me.

With Love,

Barry

 

Did anyone see this last year?

The ravers weren't the only pholks I was shouting out or about...

This year less press, less noise, more family time....

But last year this came out in the local aternative weekly, New Times Broward/Palm Beach...


Rebellion, Maybe
BY ERIC ALAN BARTON
eric.barton@newtimesbpb.com

The guy behind the wheel of the Corolla doesn't look amused. It's too early in the morning to put up with harassment from some dirty bum. The driver starts to roll up the window before the drunk, who looks as if he has rubbed cake mix on his face, shouts, "You wanna adopt a freakin' hippie?" The man, presumably taking his two kids in the back seat on a camping trip, speeds away on the rutted forest road. "Oh, man. Nobody likes me," the drunk slurs, barely keeping spilled beer from ruining his Sunday morning.

Not far away, another kind of hippie tries to ignore the scene. Andy doesn't want to pass judgment on a fellow free-living spirit, but most of the hippies here don't approve of alcohol. Instead he makes his way down a mile-long sandy path carrying a massive jug of water in each hand. Andy, who's adamant about using only his first name, is helping out his fellow campers by bringing in a new supply of drinking water. Sweat streams from under his wool cowboy hat and into his Brillo pad-like beard. But life couldn't be better. "I really don't have any worries," he grunts. "I guess I could take a break, man. That's about it." He makes a deal with me to take turns carrying the jugs. "This is all right," he says.

Every year, about 2,000 hippies, including the drunk harassing the Corolla and more peaceful ones like Andy, make camp in the Ocala National Forest north of Orlando for an event called the "Rainbow Family Gathering." They spend a month living off communal kitchens, loads of drugs, and enough bongo drums to fill a caravan of VW vans. It's one of dozens of "gatherings" -- as participants always refer to them for short, as if the word couldn't possibly apply to any other kind of conclave. Gatherings have been held all across the country, pretty much for as long as there has been a free-love movement.

But for all the talk of freedom and understanding here in hippie utopia, there's a small rebellion looming. It began a few years back when Barry Sacharow, a Broward County community activist, got a permit from the U.S. Forestry Service to hold the event. The benefit of the permit, many of the hippies say, is that Forestry Service rangers no longer ask what's in the peace pipes. Park rangers acknowledge they've gone easier on the hippies. "The permit doesn't give you shelter from breaking the rules. The law is the law," says Jer Marr, district ranger for the Forestry Service. "But having the permit means we don't have to go back there all the time either."

Sacharow's deal, though, has met criticism ever since from hippies who don't like to see "The Man" telling them where they can camp. This year, feelings are said to be so strong that those who object to the permit have threatened to split off from the others and camp illegally elsewhere in the forest. The prospect of a renegade campground could force the whole event to unravel, Sacharow worries. "They call themselves A-camp," Sacharow explains before the event from his home in Hollywood. "It stands for alcohol, because they won't follow our rule against drinking."

In past years, Sacharow says, the A-camp hippies set up near the gathering's main entrance, which this year is located three miles west of State Road 17 on Forest Road 90, in the northern section of the park. Usually, the worst the A-camp hippies do is stumble around in front of traffic without causing any real harm. But if they camp elsewhere, that could bring down the enforcement powers of the rangers, Sacharow says.

So as Andy and I make our way down the path to the main camp on the second day of the gathering -- in search of Sacharow, the only voice of authority for miles around -- I try to spot signs that the rebellion has begun. "Yeah, sure, everybody knows Barry," Andy says. "I'm sure he's here or there." Speaking in a slow, deep monotone, that's about as specific as Andy gets. "He's around, maybe in bus village or down by the main circle. You know, he's here or there."

Andy and I pass two teenaged girls stumbling down the path. I ask them if they've seen Sacharow.

"No," one says, her homemade-looking dress dragging in the dirt. "But have you seen Dr. Drop?" She explains that this mysterious camper likes to pass out things that make you happy. "He comes by your camp and shouts out if you want any, and if you do, you come out and he gives you some."

Passing in the opposite direction come two bearded hippies. One, with a clean-shaven upper lip but hair just about everywhere else, says he heard that the protest by the antipermit folks fizzled out. "I believe they drank too much last night," he says. Andy talks one of the newcomers into helping to carry the jugs, and we head off again.

Off to the left now is the gathering's "library," a camp made near the path with a couple of rickety wooden bookshelves loaded with well-used books. There's a teenager out front who spent much of the previous night drinking at A-camp. "Random roadblock," he says, pointing to me. All morning, he's been demanding the contents of pockets of passersby this way, in a Rainbow Gathering tradition. I ask him if he's seen Sacharow. "I think he's at the entrance or something," he says, apparently not realizing we just came from there. I give him the contents of my left pocket, and he scampers off.

"All right!" he shouts to the library patrons. "I got a dirty tissue."

Andy's fellow water wrangler mysteriously disappears into the saw palmetto bushes. Andy and I take turns hauling the jugs before he decides we've both had enough. "We'll just put them right here," he says, positioning the jugs by the side of the path. "Somebody will get the hint."

For the past year, Andy hasn't been a part of the traveling band of several hundred hippies who make their way each month to gatherings across the country. "There was something holding me down for a while in Orlando," he says. "I'm free again, man, so I'll be traveling again." It's a tradition at gatherings, it seems, to be a little vague. Most campers, when asked where they're from, will answer only, "Not that far from here." It's one of the unwritten rules, in this nearly rule-less society, to be ambiguous. It's not where you're from, man; it's where you're at.

Andy says he had one of those visions the night before that make the otherwise hard hippie lifestyle worthwhile. He doesn't mention the torrential downpour that came as most people set up camp or the fact that just about everyone's clothes are still soaking wet; such things aren't a concern here. "I had a spiritual awakening last night," he says. "What was it? Oh, man, I couldn't even begin to explain it. I'm not sure I even know what it entirely means."

Andy's story is cut off as we approach a crowd in the middle of the path sitting around an expired fire. A dozen hippies bang their palms against mostly home-made drums. I ask one of the older ones if he's seen Sacharow or heard about the protests. "No, man. I think he's all the way at the prairie," he says, pointing toward the end of the path. He says his name is Freedom, which could be a reference to his emancipation from bathing. "I don't know about anything like any protest," he adds.

A pubescent girl nearby, unconcerned with talk of protests, asks if I've seen Dr. Drop. "I hear he's wearing rainbow suspenders," she says with anticipation.

Andy and I walk into an expansive opening that spreads nearly as wide as the sky, with a grassy lake across the center reflecting silver clouds. To the left is "kiddie camp," a makeshift daycare center for future campers (yes, the hippie generation has a better recruitment program than the Young Republicans). To the right is the main circle. This is where graying bongo drummers gather every night, where teenagers extinguish flaming torches in their mouths, and where dogs and children raised in houses run in barking packs.

"I don't see Barry, man," Andy says. "But don't worry. Life is good. Barry will turn up for you -- I can see it."

Without a sighting of Sacharow -- or Dr. Drop -- during a two-day visit, I catch him on his home phone back in civilization. He makes regular trips back to Broward County to sit on community boards, like Hollywood's Transportation Committee and the Human & Homeless Services advisory board. (Sacharow used to work as a paralegal but says he gets by now on very little. "I'm a road dog," he says. "I'd live in my van if my wife was OK with it.")

Sacharow says the rebellion did in fact happen, but there were far fewer insurgents than expected. About 75 of them loosely gathered farther south in the Ocala forest. "They're going around telling people that they're the real Rainbow Gathering," he says.

Sacharow says the Forestry Service won't bust the rebels unless their numbers are above 75, so that's the official count for now. The would-be coup d'état has trailed off into relative tranquility, he says. The worst of it came a few nights back when some A-camp rebels plopped a keg down in the middle of the main trail. "They left after I spent the night screaming and hollering," he says.

For now, the two factions of this leftist utopia have reached an impasse, where the lawless and the nearly lawless can live in peace and love, in two separate camps.

newtimesbpb.com | originally published: February 26, 2004

 

Give you the the opportunity? What, does someone have to tell you to wipe your ass after you use the toilet, too? You have had almost a year to apologize. I don't have to give you anything. You're a grown man.

Of course. It was a weekend. No one was in their office to call. But the fact remains that your wooping and hollaring panicked half the site.


BTW, has your wife looked at your user profile, that part under "sexual preference"? Or is that some exhibition of your bizare sense of humor?

 

The Rainbow Family Gathering??? Rather poor research on the part of the author, I should say.

I bet that part made you happy.

HeeHee. That "Library" was a speakeasy...I don't think you ever made it into the reading room...

This is the only press report I had seen about last year's Ocala, and I can't say I think too much of it. (Dr. Drop, fergoshsakes...) I hope we can have better relations with the press this year.

 

On the apology...

No one I have spoken to during the year had mentioned it. I have not seen anyone from the Orlando Family or anyone affiliated with the rave/ravers, so no opportunity has presented itself, that was why I thanked you for presenting an opportunity to apoligize publically.

There is no off for the weekend, if I had called I would have gotten through... I was looking for a way to solve a problem and choose the wrong one. But after four nights of noise, after a council had formed and requested they stop and after they stated that they planned on doing this every night for the next week I opened my big mouth... too wide....

Sometimes life is like that....

The point is do we learn from our mistakes or do we repeat them...

With Love,

Barry

 

On the New Times article...

I did as little as I could on to help, letting him see for himself as the author himself stated.

You know I'm no authority figure, and certainly not "The Man," these were his perceptions, not my statements...

As for my sexual preference, I guess I need to fix that... I wonder if that was my mistake or somebody's idea of a joke... You know it is always good to meet new people...maybe I should leave it!!!!

With Love,

Barry

BTW, It was the listening to NPR on your preferences that finally let me know who you are!!!!

 

And here I was, thinking that my sardonic wit had given me away ages ago...

 

word yo. ocala 03' style.