Guardians festival ob Kolpi

Takole, sedaj, ko je festival za nami, lahko napišem nekaj sklepnih misli glede naše prve izkušnje družinsko obarvanega festivala ob Kolpi. Festivala, kjer vse diši po žajblju, kjer so ljudje praviloma odeti v zemeljske tone, kjer večina igra vsaj en obskuren inštrument in objemi trajajo 20s predolgo.

Za obisk festivala sem se odločila konec januarja, namero naznanila Mitji, ki je bil nad obiskom manj navdušen, čeprav sva sedaj po obisku oba soglasna, da se festivalu pridružimo tudi prihodnje leto. Sama sem velika privrženka glasbenih festivalov, vendar se mi je zdel obisk podobnih zadev (dokler sta otroka majhna) prej pobožna želja kot realna možnost.

Guardians pa je zasnovan drugače, poleg res odličnih glasbenih točk, se 5 dni na sedmih različnih odrih in spontanih lokacijah odvija impresiven nabor plačljivih in brezplačnih delavnic, dogodkov, animacij za otroke, predavanj idr. Poleg tega je festival naravnan trajnostno, z vegansko hrano in brez alkohola. Torej smo zjutraj vsi bolj ali manj čili in spočiti.

Pred pričetkom festivala so nas intenzivno zasuli z informacijami - t.i. info pack zajema vse informacije glede prihoda, nastanitve, možnosti in poteka festivala. Slabo 1.5h oddaljena lokacija je strateško izbrana, občina Kostel leži ob čudoviti reki Kolpi, ki nam je tekom festivala nudila hladno zavetje in prepotrebno osvežitev. Mi smo na festival prispeli drugi festivalski dan. Pred vasjo Fara je bilo precej info točk, ki so nas usmerile na parkirišče, nato smo na info točki pokazali karte, prejeli zapestnice in kartico (ki se jo napolni in s katero plačuješ hrano in pijačo na festivalu) in poiskali prostor za šotor, kar je bil precejšen podvig.

Prostori za šotorjenje so razdeljeni na družinski in ne-družinski del, izbira pa je poljubna. Družinski del je bil precej poln, tako da smo po intenzivnem iskanju prostor našli ob parkirišču za avtodome, kar se je pravzaprav izkazalo za vrhunsko izbiro. Potrebno je biti pozoren na izbiro prostora v senci, zaradi otrok morda malce dlje od odrov in ob sanitarijah. Najin šotor Šotor Quick Villa 4 je vrhunska izbira, ker ga sestaviš (in razstaviš) v 30s. Kot proja, čeprav težka začetnika, sva imela šotor s pritiklinami postavljen v 20-ih minutah.

Po postavitvi šotora nas je, mimo jogijskih delavnic, odneslo do glavnega dogajanja in Karpo je kot hipnotiziran odjadral do odra pri Kolpi s precej prijetnim popoldanskim housom. Poiskali smo prostor pri reki in popoldne preživeli med kopanjem, poslušanjem glasbe in opazovanjem plemencev. Nato smo si, kot vsak dan kasneje, privoščili kosilo in večerjo. Plačilni sistem deluje tako, da s kartico na posameznih točkah naročiš in plačaš pijačo/hrano, nato z računom odideš po naročilo. Sistem je malo konfuzen, včasih česa zmanjka, včasih se pokomolčkaš do hrane ampak generalno vse deluje in nihče ne odide žejen/lačen. S kartico se plačuje vse, razen delavnic ali tretmajev, ki se plačujejo direktno ponudnikom.

Noči so bile noro hladne, tako da smo bili polno oblečeni in pokriti. Jutra so bila mirna, vsi nekako lebdijo naokrog, vibe je fantastičen, edini večni minus festivalov so dixi stranišča, ki čisto vsem iz dneva v dan, iz potrebe v potrebo, jemljejo voljo do življenja. Ampak drugače ne gre. Jutro nas je popeljalo naokrog po festivalu in na glavnem odru smo naleteli na https://www.ancestrallmusic.com/, prvega v nizu odličnih djev, ki smo jih slišali v prihodnjih dneh.

Dnevi so se tako odvijali med plavanjem, počivanjem ob reki, obiskovanjem odličnih koncertov in ravno to je verjetno najboljši del Guardiansov za naju, da sva - ne majhnim otrokom navkljub, temveč z njimi - ponovno doživela festivalsko vzdušje. Tudi večerni koncerti in dj seti so bili nova izkušnja, ker ljudje med koncertom in preostankom plešočih ljudi na tleh meditirajo, spijo ali počivajo. In vse to funkcionira.

Festival sta zaključila https://www.awaremusic.art/, vrhunski duo, ki je ustvaril neponovljivo energijo. In čeprav se je izkazalo, da je ta hipijada bolj glamurozne sorte in se večerna oblačila mirno kosajo s tistimi, ki se na višku sezone sprehajajo po hvarski rivi, smo mi (in še marsikdo drug) štiri dni preživeli brez tuša (naša odločitev, ker Kolpa), z umazanimi nohti od zemlje, polni mango lassijev in čudnih čajnih zvarkov. In se tudi tako popolnoma asimilirali v vse dele in dogodke dneva.

Guardians združuje res veliko število različnih ljudi, ki jih pod skupnim imenovalcem (recimo) združujejo podobne vrednote. In čeprav na prvi pogled gola amišna družina nima veliko skupnega z zlato porisano boginjo, ki joga mat nosi s seboj tudi če ne obiskuje delavnic, se na koncu vsi najdejo/združijo, če ne drugje, v vrsti za matcho. Nameni in pristnost gor ali dol, prostora je vsaj v ideji dovolj za vse oblike, kalibre in miselne naravnanosti. To se je še nabolje pokazalo v skupinskemu whatsapp chatu, ki naj bi v času festivala služil interakciji in pomoči obiskovalcem, dejansko pa je prej prostor za polemike, ki jih ne manjka tudi na vibracijsko tako nabitem festivalu kot je Guardians:). Na koncu festivala je tip po imenu Zeno vrhunsko povzel ta vsestranski pluralizem, ki ga je nujno deliti:

GUARDIANS FESTIVAL: AN ETHNOGRAPHIC REPORT FROM A TEMPORARY CIVILISATION IN SLOVENIA

After examining the group chat, it appears Guardians is not technically a festival.

It is a fully functioning micro-state with approximately 700 citizens, no central government, intermittent toilet paper, three Human Design readers, six reflexologists, seventeen people selling workshop tickets, one food truck, an unresolved constitutional crisis concerning donkeys, and a Ministry of Transport consisting entirely of people typing “Anyone driving to Ljubljana tomorrow?”

The extraordinary thing is that within about four days we have recreated every institution of modern civilisation from scratch.

There is healthcare:
“Does anybody have ginger?”
“Does anybody have an egg?”
“Does anyone have thyroid medication?”
“Does anyone know a therapist?”

There is commerce:
“Selling my workshop ticket.”
“Selling two festival tickets.”
“Selling parking ticket.”
“Anyone have a spare sleeping bag?”
“I can give you a Human Design reading for €50.”

Civilisation has existed for forty-eight hours and somehow we already have derivatives markets.

There is infrastructure policy:
“Where are the toilets?”
“Why is there no toilet paper?”
“Where are the showers?”
“Why are there enormous holes beside the tents?”
“Could somebody put lights near the enormous holes beside the tents?”

At some point I fully expected:
> “Good morning beautiful souls

does anyone know when the municipal sewage bond matures?”

And then there is food.
Dear God, the food.
The Guardians food debate has become our equivalent of the Thirty Years’ War.

One faction:
> “The vegan food is beautiful, nourishing and aligned with compassion.”

Another faction, emerging weakly from behind a poke bowl after six days:
> “I would trade my entire ancestral lineage for a cheeseburger.”

Someone asks whether an egg exists.
Someone else asks for ginger.
Someone discovers a food truck.

Immediately the entire tribe begins migrating toward it like wildebeest hearing rumours of protein.

This is fascinating psychologically because nothing reveals the limits of spiritual transcendence faster than being hungry at 10:47 pm.

You may spend the afternoon dissolving the illusion of the separate self.

But if somebody closes the kitchen early:
> “WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?”

The ego has returned.
And it would like hummus.

Then there are the workshops. Every twelve minutes:
“Somatic boundaries workshop.”
“Reflexology.”
“Tarot.”
“Human Design.”
“Embodied movement.”
“Fermentation as ritual.”
“Women’s ceremony.”
“Men’s ceremony.”

“Possibly a ceremony for people who accidentally walked into the wrong ceremony.”

At Guardians, if you stand still for longer than six minutes, someone will approach and offer to recalibrate your nervous system for €40.

But my favourite part of the entire ecosystem is the relationship between radical spirituality and ordinary logistics.

At 10:02:
> “We are all one consciousness experiencing itself through infinite forms.”

10:04:
> “WHO TOOK MY CAMPING CHAIR?”

10:07:
> “Love is the fundamental frequency of existence.”

10:09:
> “Does anyone know if the kitchen is still open?”

10:13:
> “Attachment is illusion.”

10:14:
> “HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY PHONE?”

This, incidentally, is not hypocrisy.
It is humanity.
And actually I think this is the beautiful thing about the group.

We arrive aspiring to become enlightened beings of pure presence and discover that enlightenment still needs a lift to Ljubljana, a charged phone, dry socks and occasionally an omelette.

We also discovered one of the fundamental laws of spiritual communities:

The more peaceful the stated purpose of the gathering, the more spectacularly detailed the argument about how peace should be achieved.

Nobody at a death-metal festival spends twenty-seven messages debating the energetic ethics of applause.

At Guardians:
> “Please honour the sacred container and do not clap between songs.”

And somebody somewhere is presumably thinking:
> “But what if my clapping arises spontaneously from Source?”

This is how religious schisms begin.
There is also a wonderful paradox running throughout the chat.

Everybody came because they wanted to escape modern society.
Within three days we had recreated:
customer service,
public transport,
healthcare,
retail,
housing,
lost property,
planning complaints,
animal-rights activism,
restaurant criticism,
occupational therapy,
parking enforcement,
and Airbnb.

We escaped capitalism so successfully that half the group is now advertising services to the other half.

This isn't a criticism.

It is an extraordinary demonstration of how quickly human beings organise themselves.

Put several hundred strangers in a field and almost immediately somebody becomes the doctor, somebody becomes the taxi service, somebody becomes the restaurant critic, somebody becomes the planning inspector and somebody inevitably announces:

> “I offer intuitive womb remembrance readings.”

Every civilisation needs specialists.
The chat also demonstrates something rather lovely.
Whenever somebody actually has a problem, the group responds.

Lost phone?
People help.

Need medicine?
People search.

Need a lift?
Someone offers.

No sleeping bag?
Someone finds one.

Confused tourist?
Directions arrive.

Someone uncomfortable?
People care.

Behind all the discussions about veganism, parking, workshops and whether donkeys have consented to their employment contracts is an unusually high level of prosocial behaviour.

Psychologically, that is the interesting part.

A temporary community forms astonishingly quickly when people share three things: proximity, vulnerability and a belief that helping one another is normal.

And Guardians has all three.

Most modern cities give us proximity without community.

Festivals temporarily reverse that.

You can ask 600 near-strangers:
> “Does anyone have ginger?”

and somebody replies:
> “Yes ”

Try that in central London and somebody will alert Transport Police.

So underneath the magnificent chaos, there is something genuinely beautiful happening.

Everyone is performing tiny acts of guardianship.
Of people.
Of animals.
Of tents.
Of nervous systems.
Of lost property.
Of the last remaining boiled egg in Slovenia.

And perhaps that is what the festival is actually about.
Not becoming perfectly conscious.
Not agreeing about everything.
Not even successfully locating the singing circle, which apparently migrates around the site according to laws known only to migrating birds.

It is practising the much harder art of being human together while tired, overstimulated, hungry, spiritually activated and unable to find the toilet.

Which may actually be an advanced spiritual practice.

So thank you, Guardians.

We came looking for healing.

We found healing, ecstatic dance, sacred music, thirty-seven workshops, three parking disputes, one philosophical war about donkeys, a black market in sleeping bags and a vigorous investigation into whether an egg still exists anywhere in Slovenia.

And somehow, against all reasonable expectations, it works.

Guardians Festival:

Come for the transformation.
Stay because someone else currently has your tent pegs.