The stadium roared with anticipation. The air buzzed with electricity, a palpable energy that crackled as the first chords of "Terrapin Station" rang out. I was thirty rows back, acid-drenched, surrounded by a sea of fellow Deadheads, each swaying in collective rhythm. The air was thick with the odor of hippie sweat, pot smoke, and incense. Every note from the Grateful Dead felt like it was resonating in my bones, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet.
As Garcia's voice echoed through the night, my entire world shifted. In the midst of the crowd, I thought, 'This is it. This is the moment that changes everything.' I looked around at the sea of Deadheads, each row hanging on to their own wave of musical notes, and felt a surge of electricity that went beyond the song.
With each escalating chord, my anticipation grew. The river seemed to slow just before the moment we were all pulled over the cliff, and then, like a bolt of lightning from the heavens, Garcia’s long drawn out phrase rang true: 'Inspiration, move me brightly.' My mind exploded with ideas, each one more vibrant than the last. I was no longer just an observer. My spirit was cast over the waterfall, each thought a glistening droplet in the cascade of my mind. I suddenly "got it"—the ineffable understanding that I was part of something greater, something that demanded more than passive observation.
That profound night, more than three decades ago, a spark ignited within me, fueling a passion that would drive me through the years. Now, as I stand on the cusp of a continuous adventure in a foreign land, that spark burns brighter than ever, guiding me through the challenges ahead.
Today, I learned that Nika ('Russia 2') has finally left the borders of Mexico. It was her mystical lure that inspired me to embark on my adventure here some three and a half years earlier—forty-two moons if you’re keeping lunar score. This odyssey, captured in a fictional novel that I've been struggling to finish for nearly sixty moons, weaves through the fabric of my existence as a musician, author, and filmmaker.
It’s a wide net for a creative spirit to manage, but I’ve been able to mend my purpose with a philosophical stamina deeply rooted in those early hippie adventures. Although chronicled in my first book "Bohemian Ghosts, “A Memoir,” I left a lot of good details on the cutting room floor. And considering my current state of affairs, it’s worth diving deep to find some clues as to what’s really behind these great moments of inspiration.
The ideas that surged through me in that stadium hit me with a fervor I had never known. I envisioned creating a fanzine newsletter, a tangible manifestation of the energy that the band had ignited within me. It would be a voice for "us," a platform to explore and discuss the issues we cared about, from the music and the movement to the broader social currents that shaped our lives. This 'zine would not just be read; it would be interactively shared, discussed, and cherished on the next tour.
I saw it all so clearly—the headlines, the articles, the artwork, the community it would foster. It would be printed on recycled paper, bound with the threads of our collective consciousness, and distributed hand-to-hand, heart-to-heart. It would be a beacon for those who felt the same ineffable connection, a call to action for those who yearned to transform their inspired states into real-world change.
At that moment, I understood that there was indeed a role for me in this cosmic circus. I was not just another face in the crowd but a participant with a mission that would begin as a psychedelic journalist and lead me to becoming an impresario myself. The music had unlocked a door within me, revealing a path I was destined to walk.
The crescendo of "Terrapin Station" faded into a tribal drum jam, as the fire within me swirled with visions of the future. As the concert continued, I found myself dancing with renewed vigor, my movements now fueled by purpose. The rest of the night was a blur of joyous revelation, each song a new chapter in the unfolding story of my awakening.
As I left the stadium, the spiral light of Venus above seemed to wink in affirmation. I was filled with a sense of boundless adventure, ready to embark on my new quest. It was not a fleeting moment but a transformative force, a guiding light that would lead me to create, to share, and to inspire others in turn.
In the following weeks, I poured my soul into this new creation. I wrote with passion, reaching out to fellow fans for contributions, weaving together our shared experiences into a tapestry of words and images. When the next tour came around, I was ready. With a stack of freshly printed 'zines in my arms, I joined the throngs of Deadheads once more, but this time with a new sense of purpose.
Handing out the aptly titled “Inspiration,” I saw the spark of recognition in the eyes of those who took them, the same spark that had ignited within me. I had become a conduit for what had transformed me, passing it on to others, creating a loop of creative energy that would continue to flow and grow with each show.
Throughout every artist's life, there are moments, sparks, that ignite the flames of creativity. For some, it is a fleeting glimpse of beauty; for others, it is a profound experience that stirs the soul. These moments often indicate the beginning of a hero's journey, where passion and purpose intertwine to guide the artist toward destiny.
Passion is the lifeblood of creativity. It is the driving force that compels an individual to explore, to create, and to push the boundaries of their imagination. For me, that awakening came in a burst of LSD-enhanced euphoria at a Grateful Dead show, where the music and the energy of all beings fused into a singular moment of clarity. This passion was not just an emotion but a powerful current that carried me forward, imbuing my every thought and action with a newfound sense of purpose.
Purpose gives direction to passion. It is the North Star that guides us through the trials and tribulations of the creative process. My purpose emerged from the realization that I was not merely a spectator but an active participant in the grand tapestry of life. The creation of the fanzine was the first step on this path, a tangible manifestation of my desire to contribute, to inspire, and to connect with others.
Working behind the scenes with the legendary promoter Bill Graham and the Grateful Dead themselves further solidified my sense of purpose. It was not just about the concerts or the music but about the community, the shared experiences, and the impact we could all make together. That purpose became the bedrock upon which my career in the concert industry was built, a foundation that sustained me through both triumphs and challenges.
Every artist embarks on a hero's journey, a quest marked by trials, mentors, allies, and enemies. My journey was no different. The concert industry, with its whirlwind of events, personalities, and emotions, was a crucible that tested my resolve and honed my skills. Each event was an adventure, each challenge a dragon to be slain.
Mentors like Bill Graham played the role of the wise sage, offering guidance and wisdom. Allies came in the form of fellow creatives, collaborators, and the fans who supported my vision. The enemies were the obstacles and doubts that threatened to derail my path, but my passion and purpose saw me through.
Art is the ultimate expression of the hero. It is the culmination of passion and purpose, shaped by the trials and triumphs along the way. For me, the art was not just the fanzine but the entire body of work I would eventually contribute to the industry. Each event I organized, each experience I curated, every show that I engineered, was a brushstroke on the canvas of my life.
It is not a linear path but a cycle that repeats, each iteration bringing new insights and deeper understanding. The passion and purpose continue to evolve, driving me to new heights and new creations. My journey, documented loosely in the previous memoir, along with sound recordings, film projects, and more literary works, are a testament to the transformative power of creativity and the enduring impact of living a life fueled by passion and purpose.
In the end, what motivates a person to create their own art is the same force that has driven heroes throughout the ages: the desire to explore the unknown, to express the inexpressible, and to leave a lasting mark on the world. It is the fire within, the call to adventure, and the unwavering belief that somehow, through art, we can transcend the ordinary and touch the divine.
And now, gone are the days of recycled newspaper fanzines and hitchhiking though Bohemia, as I juggle the completion of another novel, multiple film projects, recordings, gigs, and the recent launch of a new season of my film festival, I find myself more motivated than ever to share this process. Contained herein as it unfolds in the now moment, tangled up in reflections of the past, methodically twisted into the musings of a frustrated writer, among the angst of self imposed deadlines, and departing Russians, there is a balance to be honored. I intend to convey gratitude and sparks of encouragement to those who follow along, while the distant echoes of ’Terrapin Station’ still ring in my ears, calling us to uncover what lies beyond the next moon.
-Dew
June 2024
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