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Reflections on The 2009 Rainbow Gathering

and its strange, gravitational pull

By Eric Carlson

"When the morning, gather the rainbow. Want you to know, I'm a rainbow too."

- Bob Marley

In the summer of 2008, my wife Heather and I were looking to camp above Boulder, CO. Deep in the Roosevelt National Forest, under an overcast sky, we came upon a busload of Rainbow Family teenagers. There were maybe twenty disheveled, young hippies there, following the Rainbow Trail out in the Colorado rain, conspicuously lacking any of the modern gear being pedaled down below in Boulder. Seeing our New Mexico license plate, they mentioned that the annual Gathering would be coming to our own home state the following year.

I had never been to a Rainbow Gathering, but I had interacted with the Rainbow Family on occasion, mostly through some work I did at a shelter for homeless kids in Santa Fe. The Family includes a large contingent of homeless youth, and groups of these kids came through town frequently, hitchhiking or living in dilapidated old cars and busses. Generally, the kids at the shelter grew up under harsh circumstances, often living on the street, and most were a little damaged. On the whole, however, it seemed that those who had latched onto the Rainbow Family had more going for them than those who hadn't, mainly a support network and some good values. They were not exactly hippies in the traditional sense, rather a blend of hippies and punks, like Mad Max characters existing beyond even the fringes of ordinary society. So it was from these young travelers that I learned a bit about the Rainbow Family.

Founded in 1972, The Rainbow Family of Living Light, as it is properly known, is a loose and diverse affiliation of individuals who share a common goal of promoting peace and love on Earth. Once a year, over the week of July 4^th ("Interdependence Day"), a Gathering is held somewhere on National Forest land where the Family comes ostensibly to pray for world peace. Although the 2009 Gathering was to be held in New Mexico, the exact location would not be announced until nearly the last minute, mainly to deny local opposition time to prepare.

In April of 2009, a year after that encounter above Boulder, Heather and I were spending the weekend in Taos. While she was busy one afternoon, I drove to the rim of the Taos Gorge, where I found a secluded campsite to privately practice my guitar. As I sat there, I heard a noise from over the rim of the Gorge, and shortly after a pair of young men crested the rim right in front of me. This was entirely random as there was no trail there.

"Did you hear it's the summer of love?" they asked.

Taos was indeed putting on what it called "The Summer of Love" at that time, marking the 40th anniversary of 1969 to shamelessly generate tourists. Feeling cynical, I said I wasn't sure I bought into it, but they replied that Taos would get more than it bargained for because the Rainbow Family would soon begin arriving in droves at some, as yet unnamed, site nearby. Indeed, they were arriving already, these fellows being among the first.

Rainbow Gatherings are organized around numerous primitive, industrial scale "kitchens" that collectively feed thousands out in the woods, sometimes miles from the nearest road. The guys in front of me belonged to Christ's Caf�, a Christian kitchen, and they told me they were following the Rainbow Trail teaching wayward hippies about Jesus, albeit in a distinctively more liberal manner than your average Evangelical. I told them I just might see them again at the Gathering.

I had to check this thing out. We heard rumors that it would be held in Tres Piedras, but by late May, it was still a secret. So it was around then that my wife and I planned a backpacking trip to the San Pedro Parks Wilderness in the Jemez Mountains. Actually we planned a trip to the Latir Peaks Wilderness north of Taos, but we changed plans abruptly when a late snow fell on the Latirs (that being but the next peculiar turn-of-events that continued to lead us down that curious Rainbow Trail). On our way to the San Pedro Parks, we stopped for a soak at Spence Hot Springs. There, we learned from a group of grizzled hippies that the Gathering was just getting under way, right here in the Jemez Mountains! And somewhere in the direction we were heading no less.

We told them we might drop by for a visit, but my wife and I (mostly my wife) decided that, despite our mutual curiosity, we came to the mountains that weekend to enjoy the quiet wilderness alone together rather than party with old haggard hippies. Nonetheless, as we drove toward the trailhead, we found ourselves following right behind the car carrying this very same group from the springs. We took the same turns at every intersection for over twenty miles until, low and behold, we were driving right into the Gathering! At this point, more gray-haired hippies were coming up to the car shouting "Welcome Home Brother!" and offering me a joint, all out in the middle of nowhere, less than a mile from our trailhead? unbelievable!

We continued slowly down the road, dodging more grizzled hippies with walkie-talkies who were directing traffic in a decidedly befuddled manner. In another half-mile, we reached a congested parking area full of old school busses, not unlike those that stopped by the shelter I used to work at. Again, various sundry characters began coming up to our car, some of them blind-drunk, asking for change. Somehow we managed to continue past and on to the trailhead about a half-mile up the road, where we camped quietly for the night.

I knew from the kids at the shelter that the drunks and darker elements congregated in the parking lot on the outskirts of the Gathering, aptly labeled "A-Camp", "A" standing for "Alcohol". Throughout the rest of the Gathering no alcohol is allowed, a rule that is miraculous adhered to almost universally (though they sure like to smoke herb). Nonetheless, after passing through that gauntlet of psychotic drunks, our initial impression of things wasn't entirely positive. We detected a strong whiff of lunacy in the air; real lunacy, not pretend or playful eccentricity.

As we camped up the road that night, the sound of drumming wafted through the hills, and a steady stream of vehicles passed by en route to the Gathering, including police and authorities of every possible stripe. Many would find the intrusion upon the quiet forest obnoxious, but despite our previous experiences, to me it was still downright fascinating.

The next morning we set out backpacking as we intended. As we plunged into the wilderness, it became clear that nothing compares to spending a few nights in the backcountry with your lovely wife, not even a strangely magnetic Rainbow Gathering a few miles away; just me and my darling, the good earth, and the sky; much better than hanging out with those ragged old men from the hot springs.

The Jemez Mountains have a mystical, primordial quality. This volcanic mountain range seems nearly as quiet and undisturbed as a place can be anymore; tall ponderosa pines draped in moss, swaying in the breeze; monolithic granite formations protruding from lush alpine meadows; strange and uniquely colorful insects; deep blue sky, blooming wildflowers, and bleached white bones scattered throughout the grassy hills.

Despite my contentment in this wilderness paradise, I couldn't get my mind off that beguiling event taking place right over the hills. We couldn't go back home without getting a closer look at it, as I was sure there was more to it than those haggard hippies and wayward drunks we had encountered thus far. So we resolved to scope it out properly on our way home.

Therefore, upon returning from the wilderness, we drove back to the Gathering, parked, and managed once again to pass through A-camp's thorny assemblage of drunken pirates. From there, as we followed a trail deeper into the woods, the scene shifted dramatically. The Gathering was in its very early stages with roughly 500 people present, many working hard laying gravity fed water hoses, setting up kitchens, digging latrines and generally preparing for upwards of 10,000 people to arrive over the coming weeks.

Continuing on, we came to a hole-ridden, low-hanging blue tarp. Underneath were maybe a dozen people, teenagers to adults, playing music and reclining in the shade. They were a much friendlier lot than back in A-camp and immediately invited us to join them. So we sat for a while, shared some songs, and (wouldn't you know?!) turns out this was Christ's Caf�, the same kitchen those guys I met in Taos belong too! In fact, as we were leaving, up walked the very fellow I had spoken with a few months earlier on the rim of the Taos Gorge!

Heather and I finished our scouting mission and returned to our car. As we drove down the winding, dirt road toward the small town of Cuba, I was rummaging for a suitable CD to carry us home when I looked up to see (wouldn't you know it?!) a brilliant rainbow right overhead! I decided Bob Marley's "Rainbow Country" was appropriate and threw it on the stereo. As we left the mountains, and continued past Cuba along Route 550 toward Albuquerque, the CD continued to play until it eventually circled back to "Rainbow Country". At that point, I looked out the window to see (can you believe this?!) another rainbow right above us! These peculiar coincidences were really piling up, indicating that I was undoubtedly caught in the orbit of this strange event. I resolved, therefore, to come back a few weeks later to witness the Gathering in full force.

I did, in fact, return the weekend of July 4th. By then, the Gathering had grown exponentially. Estimates in the papers were of over 10,000 people in attendance, causing much consternation among local authorities. From what I witnessed however, I found that although the Rainbow Family gets a lot of bad press and draws a vastly disproportionate police response, there are numerous positive things to be said for it. Foremost, the straight world would do well to learn from the amazing spirit of cooperation that occurs among thousands of people of diverse races, ethnicities, and backgrounds. Nearly all attendees contribute where they can, whether helping to prepare food, haul garbage, dig latrines, chop wood, carry water, etc.

In this spirit of contribution, I brought four enormous sacks of day-old bread from the bakery where I work in Santa Fe. Upon arriving, I managed to borrow a wheelbarrow from the first camp I came to (several families from Montana) and delivered the bread to various kitchens throughout the Gathering. In the process, I traversed at least two miles and met many colorful characters who treated me with genuine kindness and gratitude. Along the way, I was fortunate to connect with some friends from Santa Fe with whom I camped for the next two nights.

I also found the purported spiritual directive of the Gathering, to pray for world peace, to be real and sincere. On July 4th, these 10,000 people actually remain in near perfect meditative silence until noon when they hold an elaborate ceremony in a large central meadow. While there are certainly those who don't contribute and do little more than take a lot of drugs ("Drainbows" in the vernacular), the majority participate in a legitimate, grand spiritual endeavor, not unlike the great pilgrimages that take place throughout the world.

To me, the Gathering had an old-world spirit, circa medieval times maybe. Although it feels somewhat like a Renaissance Fair with its embrace of primitive technologies, it didn't feel like an act; it's not pretending to recreate anything. Rather, it is a forward-looking event, saving money and resources. Burly guys with nose-rings shout "Free food in the woods!" as kitchens ring bells signaling food is being served; often quite good, hot food, almost universally vegetarian. Gatherers carry a spoon and a bowl on their belt and can wander around all day and night this way, all their meals provided for. Kitchens offer dishwashing stations, and overall, between these sanitizing facilities, water filtration systems, and latrines, the hygiene at the Gathering was impressive.

In the evening, the kitchens deliver massive quantities of spicy beans, rice and fresh baked bread to a giant communal dinner in the central meadow. At this time, the Gathering takes on the feel of a Third World refugee camp, and in the words of one Rainbow Elder, the Family is indeed a rescue mission for a lot of lost individuals, including as I've said, a large contingent of homeless people and other social misfits. At the same time, you find doctors, lawyers, and other such "normal" folk right beside them.

I heard some downright spectacular music that weekend; some of it played by professional touring musicians. For example, on the afternoon of July 5th, New York Purple Gang (NYPG), a kitchen from New York City, put on a brunch, serving hot quesadillas and potato salad. In the midst of this brunch a truly exceptional jazz combo was blowing full force; drum kit, upright bass, electric keyboard, sax, trumpet, guitar, all out in the middle of the forest, and these guys were tight, capable of holding their own anywhere in Manhattan; all this way out in the woods of New Mexico.

In conclusion, the Rainbow Gathering means different things to everyone. As I passed by a man sermonizing in the main meadow one morning, I heard him discussing the impossibility of defining the Gathering. Indeed, it is conspicuously lacking in any overarching organization. It is simply something that happens, like the wind, the seasons, or indeed a rainbow, ephemeral, transparent, and impossible to hold onto. Its participants are like particles in space, drawn together through gravity, amassing anew and dispersing again, neither good nor bad, like a colorful nebula among the cosmos. I was fortunate to be one of those particles caught up in that strange gravitational pull.

All proceeds from this article donated to the Rainbow Family of Living Light.