From The Artist's Eyes

The Peace Conspiracy could be considered a conspiracy against my peace. It was most certainly a conspiracy against my piece. The road block we ran into, as we headed down the dirt road to this gathering of light brought our joyful song to a stop. The c*lock people achieved their mission, catching birds flocking to re*member.

I do love Wanda though, (who hosts the festival) but the sound was a 2. The crowd's ability to dance and sing freely was suprisingly poisoned, considering it was a festival dedicated to conspiring about peace. To conspire is, of course, an active term. The crowd seemed more like they were conspiring to forget why they were there, to forget that their friends got caught in the trap up the road, to forget the pain of Being instead of re*membering to reach through the pain is to find the light. To re*member how*l much we need eachother, how*l we have to start now, helping eachother to create the world that we live in or it will so easily create U.S., making U.S. a sleeping society of apathetic and distracted forgetters. The audience is always the show, they are the embers. I am merely the match. Not much a match can do by itself. Who is the hand that lights me? And what serves as the material on which I am rubbed and lit? I do k*now the sound was much of the reason for the crowd's quiet and I should say that t*here were enough embers to get the fire started.

We did have some Angels Of Now who came to the stage and gave their ember hearts to the fire we were trying to start. Little angels who focused on me and promised to help me re*member. They k*now, as well as I do, how essential it is that we wake up from this zombie sleep and unc*lock ourselves.

It was one of my favorite performances though. I give myself a 10 for rising above the faulty sound, the c*lock people, the lawn mower that was growling all through our set, and the drummer who played his own rythm the whole show. I give Baba a 10 too, for kepping the party going despite his failoing keyboard and all the other obstacles I mentioned. I also have to honor FD and Miker and a few unknown embers for bringing their light to this creating peace party and making sure the fire got started despite the crowd's forgetting. There was a kind young man who we later saw play wash board. I'll have to dig up his name, but I give profound thanks to him for making sure we could hear ourselves through the monitors. I k*now we'll be in the sandbox with him for a long time to come.

I'm not sure we'll be back t*here next year, but I can say that the festival did help us (though not in the easiest way) re*member to give thanks for the freedom that we have. What time is it my friends? Time to Create Peace Now. HOwlelujah to ya friends, from Louisville, KY and on my way to Cleveland, on this holy road, the perpetual journey h*ome. - y*ours in life and song, Lizzie and The Dharma Dog too

From The Artist's Eyes

"I went to the woods to live deliberately..."

I love columbia. It is our h*ome. The Mojo's audience was a 10.

I kept waiting to write this review 'cause I was going to post it with video but we're still synching song to film, so, here is a summary in the meantime.

I'm shortening the reviews and starting to segway into a new focus for traveling the holy road. anything that grows has to change. i follow my bliss all the way h*ome.

Columbia was so kind, so beautiful, so focused, singing along as Brittany danced for us all night long. The sound man, Chris, was a sweetie and got us a great recording.

Miker was a wonderful friend to us, helping Chris do the best job he could.

The opening artist was Lee Ruth. He's so much more than a 10. He helped turn my light on as soon as he opened his angelic mouth. Playin' It pretty is classic and I just hope we can post a good recording of it in the journal soon. Then the holy road tours columbia co-op cover band, The Hucksters, opened the show. I sang back up for them. Baba played and sang back up too. He also led us in his rendition of Angel From Montgomery. The show was made up of Baba re*membering John Prine, Karla Lewis re*membering Joni Mitchell, James Mccown re*membering Neil Young, Ron Morris re*membering Bart Bean, and all of us re*membering the late great Bob Dyer. Karla and I wore our prairie outfits and danced in the back. Baba looked like a minstrel with his accordian and black bowler hat. James looked like a 1800's pre beatnik going to meet Walt Whitman in the east. Pam kept the rythym moving with her angelic percussion supporting everyone's voices. Miker was the ship captain who helped me cross those Skandinavian waters and picked up on the power of an electric bass.

I am not dead. But, my performance was a 6 'cause I tried to explain the of Re*membering Now instead of just singing the songs.

Though it may not have translated as such to the audience, I let myself be healed through the show. It was the mask part. Long after I introduced The Dream. When the c*locked people tied me up in the yellow ribbon and I couldn't see. The Fear disease was haunting me through The Mask. I heard voices blowing over my plea, to cry for mama, mercy me. They were coming from the bar in the re*creation of the dream, of the memory from last night's trip to the cabaret. I screamed. I cried. Do you hear me? does anyone hear me? do you see me? I can't find you. I was blind and full of the poison and I asked the audience to help me.

Who here will unveil me? who here will remove the mask from my face, to help me step from the game and roll the race. Who here will hear or disappear? I can not fly. I can not rise. i can not find the key to get back into my body, to un*clock the clock and do what I promised to do without you, cause I am you and you are me and only we can set U.S. free. I asked for help and I heard Pete's voice. He re*moved the mask. He set me free. I hope I set him free too. That's what I came t*here to do.

set highlights: Lee's Playin' It Pretty, The Huckster's performance of Bob's River Of The Big Canoe, Baba and my new song, I Fly In Love, and Midwestern Tumbleweed, 19 Miles To Baghdad,

Audience Reviews

The last few shows were all tens for the re*membering. Thank you to Chicago, Madison and Louisville for giving us such a warm and generous remembrance. I'm vacationing in the wonderful woods of my mind, that's why I haven't written 'till now and this review is so short. I'll be back soon though, I promise. It's two years today that baba and I found eachother. Thank you Mama. With mighty love from the holy road, X=h/m. L and the dharma dog too.