I've been celebrating the day out of time since 1995 and this morning while I sat waiting for the sun to rise over the mountain I thought about all the different DOTs and how they have played out.
I live in Roberts Creek, BC, near the ocean and there is a perfect place near where they paint the community mandala for watching the sun rise. In the past there used to be a small group of us who would greet the sun but these days it's just me. The neo-hippies have gone, the ravers have come and gone, and the various neo-shamanic practitioners have also gone.
What is left is a community art project that is organized around the day out of time but calls itself a Manna Festival and no longer speaks of the day out of time except in hushed tones. They used to make an effort to complete the mandala before the day out of time so that there could be dancing and music on that day but the Gregorian calendar with its creeping creepy influence and it's weekend exerts its influence like a 900 pound gorilla. So the mandala art project, which used to be a brilliant moment when it was aligned with the correct timing is now like a dancer who can no longer hear the beat of the music.
But I'm still there and I'm witnessing if nothing else. I feel like I am the conscience of the coast and this morning as the sun appeared through the clouds I felt the wonder and the majesty and the shining heart filled goodness of all the people who know the meaning of this day.
So to those of you who celebrate the day out of time I say carry on, you are the ones we have been waiting for!