My hands, they shake; My head, it spins

"Load the car and write the note. Grab your bag and grab your coat. Tell the ones who need to know - we are headed north."

This weekend Caitlin and I went to the Newport Folk Festival in Rhode Island. It was incredible - the music, the people, the ocean. Seeing Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore (with Yim Yames and eventually the Preservation Hall Jazz Band) was probably the highlight for me. The Avett Brothers, Andrew Bird, Brandi Carlile, The Low Anthem, Horse Feathers - all had great sets. Just as with farming - there's something really great happening right now with music. People rediscovering their voices and traditional instruments as methods to create these beautiful, thought provoking pieces of art.

Not only that, but the folk scene in general... it's really interesting to see the dynamic between the older generations - the ones that were most definitely at the first Newport - and the younger kids that are brought out by the acts that I previously mentioned - in particular the Avett Brothers. On Saturday, during numerous sets people would try to come up closer to the stage and stand/dance to the artists currently playing. A lot of the audience became infuriated and eventually got the staff to make all of the standers/dancers sit down.

I don't know where I'm going with this - but it was incredible to see the dancers eventually win out.. against the people who would have never, ever listened to anyone tell them to sit down and stop them from expressing themselves to the music when in their youthful hayday. In fact, I can never quite understand how people listening to music can sit without the rhythm infecting them. Its always been a bit perplexing, the "I can't dance" crowd. I may not be able to "dance" in the way our current society views dancing.. but I'll certainly shake whatever I have when the spirits move me to shake it!

I think the best part of the weekend, however, was our vagabond sleeping arrangements. Or, rather, lack of sleeping arrangements. We had purchased the tickets to the festival back in April, but hadn't really thought out where we were staying. After driving to a couple of hotels on the island on Saturday night, Cait finally asked if they had a policy about people sleeeping in their parking lot. After the guy at the desk basically said there wasn't a policy, nor was there a guard, we found a quiet, semi-dark corner and laid the seats down in the Honda Fit.

While somewhat nervous about people breaking into the car while we were sleeping, and both waking at various times to phantom knockings on the windows - it was a great nights sleep. I woke to the sun just barely rising around 5:45. After the strenuous task of waking Caitlin up, I hopped into the drivers seat and drove until I found the nearest beach. Just us and an older gentleman who described the cold ocean as "better than any cup of coffee" as he wrapped himself in a towel and walked to his car were on the beach at that time. To say it was beautiful would be an understatatement, of course. More importantly, it felt beautiful. While both of us still have our jobs to tend to... it felt, for a moment, as if our journey had already begun. We were free to get our feet wet, hell, to plunge right into the water and stay there for eternity.

Yes, it is extremely difficult to leave Philly right now - such great friendships, community and ideas are being built every day here - but this weekend only gave me a taste of what this next year could feel like. And I want more.