(This is the second of a three part series.)
         The Grateful Dead got their name from a legend about someone who came upon the abused body of a man who had died without paying his debts.  The hero gives his last penny to pay the debts and honor the man with a decent burial.  The spirit of the grateful dead man then assists the hero in some difficulty.  Talk about your plenty, talk about your ills, one man gathers what another man spills.  I sometimes contemplated these words while staying very late after a show, moving to the music inside me while picking up trash around the concert grounds or parking lot.
         The parking lot at a Dead Show was amazing, like a floating city that landed wherever the band played--complete with downtown and Main Street.  People were most friendly and the community was quite safe, with remarkably few hassles considering the numbers congregated.  We'd always see familiar faces and frequently run into people we knew.  Often with 3 or more shows in each location, the floating city could become quickly established.  Been here so long I got to callin' it home.  Wandering around was great fun, but I also liked to linger near the conga drummers.  There was a thriving community economy:  colorful clothing, handcrafted items, and plates of vegetable stir-fry over organic brown rice were readily available.  "Bootleg" concert tapes (which the band encouraged by providing special "taper sections" at shows) were copied and traded freely, but never sold.  Tickets to sold-out shows were resold at face value.  Drugs like beer, pot, and "magic mushrooms" were indeed often openly sold and used, but generally used "responsibly," if such an idea is conceivable to the reader.  Viciously dangerous
and addictive drugs like cocaine were viewed with scorn in the community philosophy; though undoubtedly present with some people, they were never in evidence.  What in the world ever became of sweet Jane?  She's lost her sparkle, you know she isn't the same; livin' on reds, Vitamin C, and cocaine; all a friend can say is "ain't it a shame."
         Probably the most visible Deadheads were vehicular residents "on tour" who followed (or preceded) the band wherever shows were held.  Many outside the scene had negative judgements about their sometimes scraggly appearance; perhaps some felt they were thereby distancing themselves from conventional values, but also--it's not hard to look a bit grungy when you camp out for months at a time.  There were certainly confused and aimless individuals who latched onto this world; hopefully many found their way but even still, "not all who wander are lost."  My dad thought it was like a modern version of going off to join the circus.  Living out of cars, VW buses, or old school buses ingeniously transformed into colorful and amazing motor homes, these folks helped form the community economy, often working hard to make and sell enough tie-died T shirts or veggie burritos to earn money for concert tickets or gas to get to the next shows.
         My sister Vicky and I were once happily strolling the grounds outside the Cal Expo Ampitheater in Sacramento when we met a somewhat raggedy fellow with a winning smile, selling $1 stickers that said "Think Good Thoughts."  He told us proudly that he'd been selling "his product" all day and had accumulated nearly enough money for a ticket.  I asked how much he had--he was $1.78 short (or something like that).  I had an extra ticket for the sold-out show, but had been saving it for just the right time, having passed hundreds of hopefuls looking to buy.
This guy was utterly charming, friendly, and positive.  I bought a sticker, gave him the 78 cents, then sold him my extra.  He was a very happy man as he walked--penniless--toward the concert entrance.  I wondered how he'd eat, where he'd sleep that night.  He lived in trust, like the lilies of the field.
           Against the background of conventional society, such Deadheads living "on the edge" were highly visible, despite being really a small minority of concert goers.  California shows were consistently sold out with the help of Bay Area computer professionals and other seemingly middle-class folk, many of whom also paid for airline tickets, rental cars, and motel rooms to participate in community rituals with shows in LA, Las Vegas, Oregon, Washington, Colorado, or points east.  Rich or poor, band member Bob Weir said Grateful Dead fans tended to have "an advanced sense of adventure."  Community members were spread throughout the country; we partly planned our lives around any shows scheduled within a 500 mile radius of home.  I miss driving south for Bay Area and Sacramento concerts; my sister and I always had a blast.
         The parking lot...  We developed some very loving and creative spaces on 50 or 100 acres of asphalt or dirt; it was an experience of community sorely lacking in the U.S. today, a healing experience showing me countless possibilities for a better world.  Without love in the dream it'll never come true.  Parking lot and show merged into a seamless whole.  On a deeper level, I became certain there's much more happening in the world than meets the eye.  Hang your heart on laughing willow, stray down to the water, deep sea of love.  There was a kind of rarefied atmosphere at these events, in which the amazing happened as a matter of course.  Too many and too uncanny to be "coincidences," there was magic in the air,
synchonicity in abundance.  My brother and I saw the Dead play with Bob Dylan in Anaheim; I figured I'd see a certain old girlfriend there, among 30,000 others.  I did.
         Inside a show, any form of self expression was pretty much OK, as long as you didn't hurt anyone.  As music and dancers flowed together, I was often struck by people's incredible artistry--even my own--and my respect for all humans deepened because I saw that each of us is profoundly talented, if only we can find our unique channel of expression.
         I learned things I had barely contemplated in philosophical moments.  Immersed in the undulating organism which was the audience, I saw how my thoughts were immediately real-ized in the external world.  Inner and outer seemed somehow the same.  If I lost the rhythm while starting to worry if I'd been unkind to some fellow, I'd step on someone's toes, apologize, then turn and there the guy would be!  If I suddenly thought how thirsty I was, someone might suddenly appear with a water bottle or slice of orange.  The external world was a projection of
what's inside.  Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world.  But the outside was totally real too, as I traced the music with my dance in and through this colorful river of celebrating souls.  Just as a cell lives and moves within my body, I realized I also was part of a much larger living organism, a drop in an ocean of emotion, awareness, thought, and life.
         Perhaps our "normal" awareness is the tip of an iceberg, perhaps there's an underlying network of communication of souls, perhaps this is partly how prayer or visualization work.  We would be foolishly arrogant to presume our science has already described all the forms of energy that exist.  Once, in the well-lit hallways of the Oakland Coliseum Arena, in a colorful moving sea of interwoven souls, I danced ecstatically with a couple I didn't know; the first set of music climaxed, then wound slowly down into an exquisitely peaceful ending, when we three embraced
in a hug that must have lasted several minutes.  I felt an inexplicable energy pass between them through me, and I remain convinced that in those moments they made a deep committment to one another with me as their witness.  The power of it was astonishing.  We ended the hug simultaneously.  Brief eye contact filled with compassion and respect, then I turned and walked away; words were never  spoken.
        Next time, I'll share some memories and thoughts about Jerry Garcia--whose songs, voice, and guitar artistry of shimmering clarity provided much of what was unique and precious in the Dead's music.
 
 
 

          A Broken Angel Sang From a Guitar:  third article in this series.