aug.2003 Czech Rep. we climbed to the top up stairs that had been carved into the rock who knows when the sun had already set so we gathered wood from the forest below and broke it into fire size pieces. in the center of the rock we placed the fires were a million others have burned and set up camp around it. the rock was quite large and plenty of space for four, a druid two drummers and a dreamer. as soon as the fire lit we were taking out our drums still sweating from carrying the wood up the steep stairs. a little water and we were off like comets. three drummers now and the druid walked the forest around us watching and listening without a light or even good shoes. coming back to nature means excepting her the way she is our eyes distort because of our impurity not hers. atop the rock shooting out of the tree tops, three Indians stood in a tight triangle over a windy fire feet on rock stepping to and fro with drums hanging from their belts banging rhythms they never knew before. what happened in those hours until daylight rose above fires light I cannot say because I don't know. and moreover it is not for me to know. our souls are our best communicators. the holy spirit is a gift. we can easily approach our god on the wings of rhythm and melody. in your car when the song comes on and you get out the vocal chords for a short demonstration of the singer you could have been you are experiencing god in its truest form. the connection is as easy as you want it to be as with everything, as with everything. daylight came and heated our rock and  dozed in it like lions all day until hunger finally pulled us off our rock and down the hill to the village below, back to reality. for now.