I've sometimes thought that if another major anti-war movement reminiscent of the Vietnam era were to sweep the nation, Boulder, Colorado would be the hatching grounds. Anyone who has lived in or around the area ought to appreciate that.

The egg has started to hatch.

I arrived at the scene on time, making my way on University Avenue to Broadway. Already, there were guys dressed in outlandish neo-hippie garb standing on the street corner, holding up signs which carried messages urging peace, love, and openness. (At least one sign even contained the words, "Give peace a chance", which immediately made me think 60s.) One of them was playing a banjo. I introduced myself, and they said I could pick up a sign if I liked, or make my own. Materials were provided.

I decided to make a sign for myself, but had to contemplate for a minute what I wanted it to say. I wanted something directly relevant to the recent tragedy which occured in New York, with a constructive message, but I also wanted to express my love for freedom, which is what, in my mind, this parade was to be about. I wrote "Heal through Love" on one side of the sign, and "Celebrate Freedom" on the other in giant marker. Although physically fitting the words were a bit tricky with the second message, I got it to work, and held up my sign proudly.

More people started to arrive, and I got an even more of a sense that the ghost of the 60's had come to bless this gathering. A rag tag band of drums, brass instruments, and other various sound machines started to improvise vibrations with a rhythm and something resembling a tune (I should say, "many tunes" coming together to form a uniquely interesting blend.)

Some of the cars started to honk their horns in unison as they waited at the stop light, drivers and passengers opening windows, smiling, signalling peace signs, and waving. Utterly unreal.

I started getting into a conversation with another guy about the logistics of a war effort in Afghanistan. He seemed to have an interesting and level headed perspective about it, but before we could get very deep into conversation, the man with the megaphone came along, trying to organize the rag tag bunch of non-confirmists. People were asked to each sign a sheet, in which we would agree in writing to commit no violence or destruction of property for the duration of the event. In the event that I were to commit any acts of violence or destruction, it would be without the support of organizers of the event. I signed.

(At the back of my mind, it occurred to me that this would be a convenient way for the government to find a pre-compiled list of thought criminals, should these papers get into the wrong hands, but I figured the organization sponsoring the event needed to protect themselves from liability in case some rogues happened to cause trouble, and so it was worth such a risk.)

A line began to form on the sidewalk as the crowd grew, with the "Radical Cheerleaders" arriving to march at the front of the procession. A unique squad of cheerleaders indeed. One of them was a male in drag, complete with lipstick and eye shadow (but still obviously a male). Another was a male in semi-drag; he had a beard and mustache and wasn't attempting in any way to make his face look female, but he still had a tight miniskirt over his hairy legs. There was one person I wasn't sure about initially, because of the buzz haircut all around her head, except for the long bangs. I eventually concluded she was female. A very attractive female, actually. The rest of them, as far as I could tell, consisted of about a half dozen basically normal, everyday girls.

The next attraction to arrive would be a dragon on wheels, which was being propelled by two men pedalling at the front. A homemade contraption of unique design made from bicycle parts, cloth, and lots of one-of-a-kind hackery. It towered probably 4 meters into the sky.

Since the parade happened to begin on a corner in front of a Starbucks, the Radical Cheerleaders performed what would be the first of several chants denouncing massive corporate chain outlets. (Remember, even as all this happens, drums are still beating, brass instruments are still playing, random cars are still occassionally honking support, and the guy with the megaphone is trying to get people lined up.)

Eventually, the megaphoned one gave the signal, and the march down the sidewalk of Broadway began. A row of people in front led the procession, holding a large cloth sign which said, "We The People". Behind them, the Cheerleaders danced, always chanting, dancing, and shouting light-heartedly, waving at the cars who passed by. Behind them, people holding all manner of signs behind followed. The guys with the bicycle dragon came next. Behind them, another crowd, with more signs, more chants, clapping, and peace signs.

Halfway down the hill, a couple of cops on bikes arrived and started to flank the procession, stopping traffic at intersections while the crowd marched by, smiles on their faces. If I were to guess, I would say there were between 200 and 300 people, but it's hard to measure for sure.

The cheerleaders stopped at the corner of Broadway and Pearl. The people gathered in a circle, and they began their routine of belittling the local fashion chain outlet, decrying the consumerism and parodying the advertising designed to instill low self-esteem in women (which can of course be fixed for a price, according to the corporate propaganda).

The procession continued its way down Pearl Street, to the area in front of the counthouse. There, the crowd assembled in a circle, where performers would dance in the center. The rain started to sprinkle lightly, but it did not dampen any spirits. The crowd got into the beat, joining in chants of peace, love, and unity. Some hip hop performers did some numbers, as did the cheerleaders. This must have lasted for 20 to 30 minutes(?)

Then, the parade resumed, doubling back down 13th Street, across Canyon (again, cops stopped traffic so we could pass), and into the Boulder Bandshell, where raggae music was playing.

What transpired throughout the evening could be classified as many things. A gathering of souls. A peace movement. An affirmation of the basic sense of goodness and life which resides at the center of every human being. A political protest. A dance. A religious ritual. A celebration of beauty. An expression of reverence toward the earth and all who reside within it.

People of every age were in attendance. There were children running around playing. There were babies being held by their mothers. There were teenagers. There were people like me in their 20s. There were middle aged folks. There were the elderly, holding up signs, passing out candles, dancing in the crowd.

Many speeches were given. Poetry readings. A letter from Noam Chomsky about this week's events was read. Skits were performed. Songs were sang. Candles were passed out. 4 minutes of silence were observed, in honer of those who were lost last Tuesday.

While honoring and mourning the loss of so many American lives, the speakers urged people not to forget that many, many people die around the world regularly, whom the nation does not mourn. Often, such deaths are at the hands of U.S. aggression.

One woman, an astrolooger, put forth a most poignant vision for people to consider in her speech. She asked the crowd to imagine a scenario in which George W Bush walks out on the steps of the capital, and in front of the press, makes a heartfelt apology on behalf of the United States to those Muslim countries whose lands were destroyed during past U.S. aggressions, from whence the terrorist suicide bombers arose. Imagine what that would do for the future of all involved. How many terrorists would be likely to rise after such a statement (if it was meant, and followed with corresponding action)? On the other side of the picture, how many terrorists are likely to arise if more homes are destroyed in an act of retaliation?

The "keynote speaker" (if he could be called that) echoed these thoughts. He also warned that if the images on television are used as an indicator, an inquisition is on the way. Most of the people at the gathering tonight would probably be considered heretics, for one reason or another. A warning of what may be to come.

With that somber message in mind, more celebration of life commenced. The music got louder. The dancing got more intense. Techno rhythm sound. An uncertain crisscross between a 90's night club and a 60's "feel the love" moment. Outdoors. Under the stars, amidst nature, in the middle of the city next to the mountains.

More public performances, but less linguistic, more involving bodily movement. Several young women, clad in little more than translucent cloth or skintight bodysuits, danced on the stage, circling a sphere which represented Earth. Ultraviolet lights surrounded them, highlighting the whites of their garmants. One twirled a flaming baton as she moved in and out of the circle. The audience, enraptured, looked on and applauded. A mystical moment.

After dancing for several minutes, they lifted the sphere above there heads, and held it high in the air, two of them kneeling in reverence before it. They held this position for several seconds, as everyone applauded, shouted, and whistled their approval.

After their performance, the regular techno dance music resumed, and people danced some more. I thought this was going to wrap it up, and considered leaving, but I was proven wrong. Everyone who had been standing and dancing on the ground between the benches and the stage was asked to move back. The crowd formed a semi-circle around the open area.

Then, the fire dancers came out. Men and women with implements of flaming magic. Batons, torches, fire-breathers, fire swallowers, flaming hoola hoops, and all sorts of other varieties. Once again, several of the female performers were obviously very comfortable with their bodies, and with good reason. (Disproving once and for all Rush Limbaugh's silly assertion that "Feminism was invented so that unattractive broads could find a way into the mainstream." Who needs the mainstream anyway?)

Fire dancers rotated in and out, the crowd gathered round cheering all the while. From 8 meters back, I could feel the heat every time one of those long-bearded guys held a torch in front of their mouth and sent a giant puff of flame high into the air.

After having been dazzled with marvelous fire wielders for a while, the crowd eventually got to exercise their own muscles for a while again. The music pumped, the people danced, and the 4-year-olds tended the dwindling candle flames (which had been placed on the ground in a circle after the vigil).

All too soon, the event had to be over. The time had elapsed, and the end was called. People were encouraged to join up with small activist groups in the area to keep each other informed and connected.

I went to the donation table to contribute to the cost of sponsoring the event. At first, I was just going to pull out a dollar bill, but then I thought, "This was at least as enjoyable as a good rock concert. Perhaps, in some ways, even better." I contributed accordingly.

Now, here I am, back at home, with sleep knocking on my brain's door. Somehow, I know that even if everything goes wrong, everything is going to be alright.