Falcon Ridge was, as always, great music, great dancing, and a breath of fresh perspective on our everyday lives. When I’m there, it feels like the lapse since the last festival was only momentary and the changes that occur in the gaps are that much more evident. New dancers become regulars, old regulars go missing, relationships form, bend, and break, and everyone advances through life.
To stay in the present, I frequently have to remind myself that every experience is unavoidably unique. With multiple prior bike trips, Falcon Ridge visits, and many biking and dancing activities of various types to look back on, trying to make comparisons between this week and the past is an easy pitfall. There’s an inclination to associate an experience with an activity, but the activities aren’t essentially much different. An even stronger instinct suggests a connection between experience and place, but, in contradiction of the logic behind vacation advertising, many of the places are profoundly the same as the last time I visited them.
By elimination then, perhaps the unreproducible element is simply human. Not the people exactly, the people too may be the same, but whatever each consciousness brings and whatever the interaction between them may be. In 2010 I started using dances as a destinations to satisfy my love of transportation by bicycle. This week the determination of my fellow cyclists, encouragement from many dancers, and support of our loved ones has enriched the experience; for this I am very grateful.
