Again: it's been nonstop. It's been ongoing, and the crew have barely had a chance to breathe, let alone sit and talk. And the rain flattened us ins a space where we could finally make time to do so: rain says no more breaking down. Rain says no driving off the field. No out and about, just hunker down and finally and completely connect as a crew. Yes, and now.

"Being the change" is not an instant mix in water sort of thing. It's a learning and growing process. It's a thing we do after recognize the thing in the world that needs to be done, even knowing that we might not have all the tools to do so, even knowing that we will need to grow like vines and blueberries and so many stems to fulfill that need. And so: it turns out that even when you're on a green evangelical super-sustainability tour, the world is not instantly better. And there are inter-personal relationships, and race, and class, and gender, and folks become frustrated, because what we are really in is a mircocosm of the entire universe.

And so as it rains we pass around a talking feather (we have a conch, too: yes, we are huge damn hippies) and talk about our personal frustrations and processes. And what ends up being the most helpful is juct the simple act of being heard. Of reconnecting as a team and as a group. Right now we are thirteen people. Thirteen people erecting a tent, a geodesic dome, a series of four carnival games with multiple and moving parts, an Eco-Info and a Green Market Booth. Thirteen people doing that and organizing the next venue, fundrasing, securing fuel and food, cooking meals, building out the bus and the carnival, checking fluid levels, arranging for pit stops, showers and laundry. Thirteen people working twelve-plus-hour days. And so: issues: and so: we talk. Yes and Yes. And it feels good to pause, even for just a little while.