We almost didn't stop. One wrong turn had lead us well out of our way and back in Illinois, and we figured with the hours we'd lost having to cross the Mississippi a third time would have surely caused us to miss Transcendental Meditation Happy Hour in the small town of Fairfield, Iowa. But lo and behold, I've discovered on this trip that when you're eight amazing people traveling the country in search of other amazing people, the amazing ones just seem to find you first. Even just a few minutes before midnight, immediately upon our exit from the bus, we were greeted by numerous people asking us who we were, to which we responded with our simple fact that we were just people who wanted to know who THEY were.

Fairfield, Iowa is a unique town, because it's home to the Maharishi University of Management, which from the sound of it makes me think of a bunch of hometown heroes educating themselves to become regional managers of fast food restaurants. But it's much more exciting than that. The University is essentially a liberal arts school that focuses on the practice of Transcendental Meditation, and practically everybody in the town of Fairfield is involved in some way. We ended up with a good mix of people who were nice enough to let us shine unfathomably bright lights in their faces and interview them on a random street corner at 1 in the morning. One was an older gent by the name of Tom who was a professor of music at the University, another was a younger girl, Stephanie, who was currently enrolled in her fourth year at the University and had been practicing TM since age 5, and we met a younger guy by the name of Mike, who years before had dropped out of the school due to problems with the curriculum and a general skepticism of the practice.

The way the meditation works is by a series of mantras. There are around twelve different mantras that are assigned to different groups of people based on gender and age group. The practice consists of sitting and meditating on the mantra for about twenty minutes twice a day, and by doing so, they claim it brings them to a point where they "transcend" reality. An easier way for me to decipher it was by referencing a scene in I Heart Huckabees, where the two main characters experiencing "existential crises" sit at a picnic table and whack each other in the face with a giant inflatable ball until their minds essentially go blank and they become the earth and air that surrounds them, somewhat transcending the inevitable drama that they become so distracted by. At their constant request to "go back to the ball thing," their existential counselor reminds them not to call it "the ball thing," but "pure being." Fairfield's practitioners meet twice a day, once before breakfast and once before dinner, in two massive domes, one for men and one for women, and meditate together in giant groups, which they feel is more powerful than meditating alone.

There was a strange and special vibe about this town, and I felt it from the moment I stepped off the bus. Simultaneously to being greeted by a flock of friendly townspeople (prior we were under the impression we'd have to "search" for these folks, HAH!), we were greeted also by a praying mantis that followed us around for a few minutes and landed on everyone if only for a few seconds, which we took as a good sign. The town breathes a good energy, even if it could easily be taken as a placebo effect; most of the townspeople are practitioners and believe that with their daily group meditations, they are successfully sending out positive energy, not just to their town, but to other places in the world as well. Whether they're all avid believers of this concept or not depends on who you talk to, but most of them will vouch that practicing the meditation has helped them ground themselves and become generally more calm, peaceful, and aware individuals.


Afterwards we headed to the 24-hour grocery store because we were told of the magical milk that came out of Fairfield. Apparently singing to their cows causes them to produce incredibly creamy and sweet milk, unlike any milk we were sure to have tasted before in our lives. And apparently that was all the convincing we needed. What began with milk soon turned into magic cereal, magic songs, magic pictures, magic food stamps, magic bananas, and our magic life in this magic town on our magic bus.

You're a very, well... magical place, Fairfield. Thanks for making our search so easy; we didn't have such luck with the Amish or the Mormons...

A friend of mine once told me that it was Reverend Ivan Stang who made it possible for him to marry a can of beer and become a pope in the same day and for a reasonable price. And our day in Cleveland, Ohio was truly a real treat, because we got to visit the home of Reverend Stang and his wife Princess Wei and explore the temple of Bob Dobbs that is their house.

 Ivan Stang founded the Church of the SubGenius with Dr. Philo Drummond (who is now a DJ on the popular Berkeley radio show Puzzling Evidence) in 1980 with a satyrical pamphlet titled "SubGenius Pamphlet #1." What's formed in the 30 years following is an entire parody religion that, while no less real than any other religion, is thankfully only taken seriously to a dangerous level by a small chunk of people. Most followers of the Church of the SubGenius are such because of the humorous and lighthearted nature of the way it satirizes fanatic-based religion, conspiracy theories, and aliens.

 The religion is based around one deity, a God of sorts by the name of Bob. Nobody knows exactly who Bob is or what exactly it is that he knows that we don't, but the playfulness of it all is somewhat of a relief in the world of thinking about religion and knowing those who take it and themselves too seriously. As Stang himself said, "Bob isn't interested in your sins, unless it's one he hasn't heard of yet." Stang's attitude towards the whole concept of religion is that it's his job and duty to piss off the fundamentalists, and it seems at this he's had tremendous success, if in nothing more than his devotion to the joke of it all. The big lesson we learned from the Reverend? "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

 Nowadays Stang is able to make a living promoting and "practicing" this comedic religion. Any Joe can walk up to their home and pay their $35 to become an ordained minister (or Sir, or Pope, or Princess, or pretty much anything you want) of the Church of the SubGenius. He markets his belief in the cause (or lackthereof) but with the lingering fear that some people in the world of religion take this stuff too far, and his greatest concern is of its potential transformation into a cult. Being that so many people in the world will eat whatever bullshit is spoonfed to them, Stang realizes that this concern is a legitimate one, but hopes that in the grand scheme of things, it can be used as a tool to help people to stop every once in a while and laugh at reality's joke that is organized religion.

Reverend Ivan Stang & the Church of the SubGenius. Cleveland, Ohio.

We awoke Sunday morning to a gaggle of cows chomping away at their grassy field which we were parked almost directly in the middle of, staring at our bus as if to say, "who the hell are these guys?" Really it was just a pleasant welcoming committee on the farm of Mik and Maggie Robertson in Paint, Pennsylvania.

Maggie picked us up at a Sheetz gas stop outside of Harrisburg while we were on a hunt for Amish folk. Unfortunately (and obviously), it seems the Amish are a little turned off by being approached by a dreadlocked Australian in a Hawaiian t-shirt holding a recording device and asking to take their picture. So we decided to break out our big guns and get their attention by playing our instruments while Phinn juggled in the gas station parking lot. While it did get them to stop for a few seconds, they quickly scurried back onto their coach and one short interview with a Mennonite was looking like all we'd get for our episode on Pennsylvania's Amish community. Other aspects of the universe were however in our favor, and our Vermont license plates grabbed the attention of an "Eat More Kale" t-shirt-wearing woman who said she lived on a farm about 4 hours away that we were welcome to park our bus on that night, just outside the Ohio state border.

Well it worked out in our favor. Not only were Mik and Maggie able to tell us some more information about the Amish and what it's like to coexist in the same area as them, but they cooked us an elaborate pancake breakfast, stocked us full of veggies from their gardens, and let us poke around their beautiful land and play with their animals, of which there were tons.

So a HUGE Thanks again to Mik and Maggie of M&M Robertson Farm for their incredible hospitality and for not thinking us entirely insane when they ventured up the field to find us working diligently... with their cows.

Paint, Pennsylvania, on our way to Cleveland, and then Detroit!

A big fat Thank You to all the folks at Hunter Hill Farm in Easton, Pennsylvania for letting us park our bus on their beautiful land. They also took us on a grease hunt and to the Easton Farmer's Market, which is the oldest consecutive running outdoor farmer's market in the country.

Check out Kristin & Dallas's band Hot Bijouxx!

I may not be the right person to ask about New York City. I've been known to have personal conundrums with the lifestyle and overall attitude of artists and the culture of arts there in general. I realize that much of this is due to the blatant overabundance of people there making art, as well as a living by a wide multitude of crafts and skills, and because of this, there are some people in the city's art scene that are catering to this fact. The key to this is one magic word that'll get any New York City artist to perk up their ear and stop talking about themselves for just a few seconds, and that word is "Warehouse."

There's a million warehouses in New York, and they all have the capability to serve a mass population of people in different trades if they end up in the hands of the right people. We met up with a few different warehouse owners and organizers during our short stay who have started their own spaces in the hopes of providing difference walks of artists in New York with a place to practice, create, and market their work.

Tom Beale started the Honey Space studio in 2006 when he saw an ad for a warehouse and got a handful of artists together to go in. The warehouse soon became a collective art studio for which they were able to pay their rent in art, and was only supposed to last for two years but due to the recession was able to last six. Unfortunately, NYC's millionaires need their loft apartments, and though they knew the space wouldn't be permanent, it is still a shame to know that it'll be getting torn down in the coming year.

We met also with Jon Williams, who although is a recent adopter of a space, is no stranger to collective efforts. His studio, which was still in the building stages when we plopped our media station down in his living room, has the space to host eleven people, with rooms that can be used for studios. The house itself runs what they call a "no-no-noise ordinance," meaning you could very well have the loudest sex of your life there and policy says that no one can tell you to shut up.

Perhaps one of the most successful examples of this is the corseted world of the House of Yes, started by Anya Sapozhnikova and Kae Burke who also head the troop of circus-arts goddesses known as the Lady Circus. They use the House of Yes as not only a living space for some, but as an aerial acrobatics workshop space, as well as a performance venue. When they're not teaching anything from aerial silks to stilt walking or putting on elaborate performances, the girls get hired for VIP events all over the city.

I may not be the biggest fan of New York City, but I can recognize and appreciate when certain people are doing it right by focusing on the potential success in group efforts. It's hard to get your foot in the NYC art scene door, but sometimes it's just important to know the benefit of association.

Also, as I wrote this, the cap of an apple juice bottle exploded off at no less than a zillion miles an hour at Zelde's chin. Let's all pray for a speedy recovery, yes? Thank you.

Tour and travel has its perks, folks. Every once in a while, one person in your group just happens to have a father who owns a place on a lake just a couple hours outside New York City. Bachelor pad? Try something more along the lines of a bachelor castle.

A very special thanks to Jess Weiner for putting our team up for a couple days in his beautiful house and letting us take over his basement with our cornucopia of laptops and equipment. We were able to get a lot of work done here but also give ourselves some time to relax, which on this trip we are finding out very quickly is incredibly important to the success of our project.

Its Monday, August 13th 8:00 am. We have just pulled up to the Hillborough County Courthouse in Manchester New Hampshire. Why? For the trial of Adam Mueller, better known as Ademo Freeman, Free State Project activist and COPBLOCK.ORG founder.

Ademo is part of a movement; a collection of individuals choosing to eat, sleep, and breathe for the change they wish to see in the world. These individuals identify themselves as part of the Free State Project. The Project is somewhat of a call-out, if you will, for passionate Libertarians to live together in solidarity and work to “..exert the fullest practical effort toward the creation of a society in which the maximum role of civil government is the protection of life, liberty, and property,” as noted in the Free State Project's statement of intent.

And band together they do. Individuals affiliated with The Free State Project drove from all over to be at the trial. Over 90 members of the community were present. With signs made with love and ardent voices they stood in front of the courthouse all day and filled the court room with a sense of pride and commitment akin to soldiers on the front.

This community is a band of brothers who are there for each other through every step. Their commitment towards equal freedom for all people was an inspiration to be around and a powerful force to witness. At the courthouse, Free Stater's weren't just holding signs, they were reaching out in all forms. Individuals from CopBlock.org, ShireSociety.com, VictimlessCrimeSpree.com and many others were present. All armed with video cameras and smart phones, any and all information flowed freely. Websites were being updated to the minute and everything was being captured and shared.

Ademo stood in the court room representing himself against an indictment filled in December 2011 for three felony counts of wiretapping, each carrying a 7 year sentence. The indictment is based off the fact that Ademo called three government officials to receive comments on a video that was sent to Copblock.org from a Manchester, NH high school student, and filmed it. Why is that illegal? That's why this case is worth paying attention to.

Please check out the full video and court details, which can be viewed at tp://www.copblock.org/freeademo/

Manchester, New Hampshire Courthouse, and the KAC (Keene Activist Center), Keene, New Hampshire.

In a series I did recently regarding bicycles with "character", I asked my subjects to answer eccentric questions about their bikes that had literally no relevance to anything important. When I was about to ask one of my friends his bizarre question, I warmed him up by asking him to tell me something awesome about his bike. He proceeded to spit on my recorder and abrasively shout "free on gas!" And in the interest of creating a better world, it goes without saying that this response was far more important than any that would have followed such questions as "what mythical creature does your bike resemble?" or "what is your bike's blues musician name?"

It's true, folks. Bicycles, believe it or not, do not cost four dollars a gallon to run. They not only support a greener future in transportation, but a healthy and more active lifestyle for everyone. They run on the simple healthy movement of your ankles to your knees to your hips to your butt to the giddy smile that spreads over your face when you're whizzing down a hill with 50 of your friends by you and your bicycle's side. And this lovely dream comes true three times a year in a ride the bike lovers of Chittenden County, Vermont call the Decade.

The Decade is a group bike ride through three separate back road routes in different counties of Vermont and New York. The Fall ride goes around Upstate New York, Spring in Button Bay State Park, and Summer around beautiful Grand Isle, Vermont. With frequent picnic and swimming stops, abundant supplies of wine bottles, and a harem of bike mechanics who can patch your flat in under a minute, the Decade sounds like a daunting adventure at first word, but a 30 mile bike ride soon becomes a leisurely day spent on the fly with a group of your closest friends.

Glen Eames (above), Founder of the Decade along with the Old Spokes Home, a bike shop in Burlington's Old North End, believes in pedal power. Something I personally have always admired and appreciated about Glen is his downright contagious love for bikes. It's a lesson he tries to inspire in everyone else, almost as if it's in the hope of convincing more people of the beauty and efficiency of our two-wheeled friends. It goes without saying that Glen has created somewhat of a holiday in many of us in these bike rides, and although at the end of the day our legs feel like jelly and it hurts like a bitch to sit down, it's a day and a feeling we all look forward to.

The Summer Decade, and Glen's birthday! Grand Isle, Vermont.

Also a huge thank you to Glen and Old Spokes Home for sponsoring our trip and hooking us up so we'll never go bikeless on our adventure!

How can we make the world a better place in this new age? What can we change this second time around? Well, day one of our epic journey and apparently our problem is already solved. It's easy, according to 92-year-old Barbara Hall Fiske Calhoun, founder of a free-thinking community of families on a secluded mountaintop in Quarry Hill, Vermont. All we have to do is have more sex.

Barbara and her husband Irving began the Quarry Hill family and community in the 40s, which was succeeded by a gallery in New York City that introduced further masses to their idea of how to create a forward community in which people could explore their own version of utopia. Four generations later, although according to some it seems to be winding down, the Quarry Hill community remains a somewhat polygamous family that practices in building families using more of a "free love" attitude, in addition to observing strictly non-violent communication (especially towards children, ie., there is absolutely no spanking), and even group-wide veganism.

From watching sporadic moments of her daughter LadyBelle clutching to Barbara's gorgeous, withering hands, to 20-somethings of the community busting out a dance-off, to the festivities of their annual party lasting through wee morning hours, it was apparent that the Quarry Hill community is one that was made to inspire the possibilities of a new kind of family. It's hard to say how truly open these people are or have the capability of being when you're just an outsider looking in and trying not to misrepresent them, but it seems even those who have only known of the community a short time feel a sense of belonging and companionship there.

See the documentary video of Quarry Hill, with interviews with Barbara, LadyBelle, and other Quarry Hill community members on the Documentary Films & Commentary page.

Quarry Hill, Vermont.