First Summer Solstice

It was still spring in southern California when Tom Law and his partner, Lisa, came to the little blue Phyllis House to visit with Yogi Bhajan.  Effectively, these two individuals were the leaders of the hippie commune called the ‘Jook Savages’.  Tom was an attractive, well built man with untrimmed facial hair and a thick,  palomino shade of waist-long hair - hair any woman would envy.  He wore it tied back in a ponytail but would frequently let down those gorgeous thick tresses before gathering them all back together, then re-tying and adjusting them down his back.  

Lisa, like all the women of the commune, was free of makeup and pretense.  She was small and appeared to be barely more than a teen-ager,  while nonetheless a commanding figure in her own right.  She was also a skillful photographer who kept busy recording the colorful history of their large, extended hippie family. It was a ‘family’ with connections to iconic figures of their era, such as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda, to mention a few.  Between Tom and Lisa, they had one daughter who was named Pilar.  At that time, Pilar was barely a toddler, and they had another one on the way.

Many of the members of this commune were the ones who had caravanned to Los Angeles at the end of 1968 to study yoga with Yogi Bhajan.  In the intervening months they had attended nearly every class and intensive the Yogi taught.  

On this particular day Tom and Lisa had come to extend an invitation, and Tom began to fill YB in on the history of a particular ceremonial gathering:  “So for a few years now our families and friends have been holding a yearly event outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico, to celebrate the Summer Solstice which takes place in June.  It is celebrating the first day of summer and is the longest day and shortest night of the year.  All the members of our tribe gather in a high Aspen Meadow.  We set up a large central teepee and we all camp in our vans and tents, then during the day, we share food and dance and play music.  We would like you to come and give daily yoga classes for everyone.”

“We will be driving back to New Mexico, caravan-style.  So we can make you comfortable in the newest and best van, and you can enjoy seeing some other parts of the country.  Altogether, it is a 700-mile journey so we plan to spend the first night on the road.”

I could tell by his thoughtful response that YB was actually contemplating this invitation and it wasn’t long before a plan was made.  He designated Shakti and me to accompany him.  

On the morning of departure, I watched from a distance as YB met with Tom and some of the other drivers to discuss the route and the protocols.  As always, YB seemed to take command while they worked out signals for maintaining the integrity of the caravan, which was made up of about a dozen vehicles.  He helped to establish hand signals for pulling over when someone needed a bathroom break or for any other urgent matter, as well as a system for pulling back onto the highway while keeping everyone together. 

To caravan meant that all of the vehicles that took part followed specific procedures, with everyone taking responsibility to look out for each other.  We traveled at a moderate pace, with a system to account for each vehicle.  There was a designated lead vehicle and a specific vehicle bringing up the rear.  This was an long era before cell phones, so getting signals straight was very crucial.

I was always awed at YB’s mastery, the authority that he wielded. It was part of my attraction to him.  His strong assertiveness gave me a sense of safety, as well as a sense of being valued.  

So it was that in mid-June, the Yogi, Shakti and I, set out on our first experience of traveling in a hippie caravan.   

We drove throughout the first day on the road with the Yogi comfortably reclining in one of the bunks in his designated van.  By the late evening of that first day, we made a pre-planned stop at the property of some friends of the commune.  The Yogi was provided a room to sleep in, as were Shakti and myself.  Everyone else was able to park on the property and they slept comfortably in their vans.  The next morning we set out for the last segment of the journey

The solstice gathering was being held in a high Aspen meadow, in the mountains that border Santa Fe.   Being close to the lead vehicle, we were among the first to arrive, and I watched in fascination as the colorful, elaborately painted vans and buses rolled into the meadow.   Each vehicle was guided to form individual campsites around the perimeter of the large, grassy meadow.  Beautiful, youthful and fresh faces would emerge from the buses, often in pairs and usually wearing headbands, beads and leather shirts with fringes hanging, the women in long skirts and moccasins or cowboy boots.   

Tom Law and his crew took charge of erecting the tall white ceremonial teepee on the perimeter of the central part of the meadow.  It was a team effort, requiring systematic precision to lift each pole and set it in perfect counterbalance.  Once every pole was in place, the men wrapped the canvas snug around them, leaving a flap at the peak, that could be closed against rain or opened to the brilliant blue New Mexico skies.  

As a photographer, the entire week-long event was a visual feast.  I took pictures of those faces full of innocence – fresh faces that hadn’t succumbed to a mass media’s dictates about makeup and style.  Hair that was long and loose and as free as their spirits.

Meanwhile, I personally felt quite the opposite as I was in a process of submission, being asked to bind myself to serving a ‘master’ in exchange for my ultimate enlightenment.  When the Yogi had first described my ‘destiny’ to me, I was afraid to refuse, while also terrified of agreeing to the life of denial he outlined for me.  Now as I watched them, I envied these hippies their freedom, their camaraderie, and their sense of community and family.   

Our Yogi, who by now had declared himself to be a master of kundalini yoga, led daily classes from the middle of this hippie circle in the flattest central part of the meadow.  The air in this high meadow was clear and crisp and we were encircled by Aspen trees that are distinguished by their slender white trunks and fluttering green leaves.  Out in the open air, these students practiced the Yogi’s signature breath-of-fire.  He taught about chakras and locks ( bandhs) and how to apply them in coordination with the breath.  New mantras were taught, with instructions in holding and releasing the breath in synchronicity with each syllable.  

Many of these youthful students carried their musical instruments everywhere, including guitars, drums, harmonicas and tambourines.  And at the end of each class they shared their music.  It was in this meadow that we first heard their signature song: 

              “May the long-time sun shine upon you

                 All love surround you

                And the pure light within you

                Guide your way on.” 

The Yogi immediately caught the spirit of this song and its simple, prayerful and universal theme.   He requested that the musicians among us learn it and play it at every gathering.  From that time on, he would call out at the end of every yoga class: “Hey, Jerry, let me hear that ‘Sunshine’ song.  Just play it perfect now and make everyone sing along.”  His word was our command, and with this kind of impetus, budding musicians were born or revealed.  Music and singing together became a binding force in the development of our soon-to-be international community.   

This Solstice gathering in 1969 was the ‘first’, and the Yogi was quick to recognize the vision of it, the spirit of it.  He called for a similar event in 1970 and every year thereafter.  As a result of this first visit, New Mexico had also caught his imagination and would soon become an alternate headquarters for our growing community.

The Yogi chose to teach many things in addition to yoga.   Although he was only 39 years old when he first arrived in the U.S., he was sharing the practices of an ancient civilization, introducing them to people who were rejecting the rules and values of their own culture.   He was sharing with his young students an entire life-style system, with a big stress on commitment.  

So it was that at this first solstice gathering, the Yogi began to speak about commitment, especially as in marriage,  being essential to the spiritual path.  Beginning with Tom Law and Lisa, he spent many hours in persuasive discussions to convince these young, counter-culture couples to commit to traditional marriage.  Many of the individuals in this commune were already paired off, but by the final day of the week-long gathering, a ‘group wedding’ had been conceived.  About a dozen couples got dressed up in their finest whites.  Brides wore wild flowers woven into their long hair or forming colorful wreaths they wore like crowns, with bright ribbons streaming down their backs.  

Spontaneously, a ceremony was devised by the Yogi as he directed each male to lead his partner while the bride held the end of a shawl or scarf draped over the groom’s shoulder.  The couples walked in single-file, in a large, ceremonial circle around a simple altar covered in cloth, and decorated in flowers or other offerings and with incense burning.  The Yogi extemporaneously outlined the marital duties and commitments to one another, round by round, until four circlings had been completed. 

We had no guiding scripture at that time, and none of us Westerners had any frame of reference for this ceremony.  But the Yogi reinforced this practice for all the years to come, as he gradually taught us the Sikh ceremonies and directed me to translate the specific scripture, entitled the Lavan, in which there are four rounds of commitment to married life.