Holy shit. I didn't think it would be possible, but I'm all hippied out. I am sitting in a pub in Vancouver, drinking beer and eating poutine while writing this. Loud music, sports on big screens. I needed this. To balance out the extremely airy fairy hippie weekend I just experienced. In Squamish, one of the most beautiful places I've ever been (think: 360 degrees mountain views, a rushing river of glacier water, eagles and black bears) hundreds of mostly naked people gathered for Blessed Coast festival.
The name says it all: hippie galore. I was there last year but didn't remember it to be so hippie. Like, too much. People yelling at each other: YOU ARE BLESSED! YOU ARE LOVED! I can't count on both hands how often I had to set intentions and realign my chakras. Thank goodness I wasn't the only sarcastic person there. I met another Belgian girl and a whole bunch of sceptics. Perfect. Most of the weekend was spent jamming in camp, laughing and inventing ways to describe what the hell was going on. Triple hippie certified food was being made: organic, vegan, nutfree. I was about to make stickers saying 'triple hippie certified' and sticking them on every single person at the festival. The stickers would be biodegradable and vegan friendly, of course.
The craziest thing at the festival might actually be the fact that I did not dance at all. 90% of the time the music was spiritual, soft, with conscious lyrics and no beat to be found. So when the Light Twerkerz organised a twerkshop, I went all out. Upside down, on a bus, on the floor, in the air, you name it, I twerked it. Women would walk past the group of us twerking our lives away, saying: "this is not authentic". I explained them there is nothing more authentic than shaking your booty. The music turned into hiphop and while some people moved away from the stage because it was 'too intense', we danced until we had to run to the river to wash away the dusty sweat. "This is our night", we said," finally we will DANCE!" But the next act was yet again a band singing sweet songs of being blessed, gratitude and light. All freaking night.
If you think all I did was twerking and making fun of hippies, you're wrong. I attended workshops, too. Like the church of reggae yoga, magical menstruation talk and breathwork where I actually had to leave after ten minutes because people were breathing so intensely they were letting go of demons, purging and having orgasms. By breathing. My god.
My crew of sarcastic friends and I were so happy we found each other. That's what my Blessed Coast was all about: hanging out with friends, enjoying the gorgeous scenery and seeing the whole thing as a great camping trip with entertainment on the side. I had a blast, but if I wouldn't have found my awesome crew, I would be chain smoking and binge drinking by myself, just to keep me sane. Blame it on my crown chakra, it's out of alignment.
Please excuse me for my rant, but I promise you, it's a blessed one.