The bus came by, I got on, that's when it all began . . .

The power of good music is evident to all those who have been transformed in some way by a particularly moving musical experience. Whether you have felt a depth and joy in your being that you hadn't previously felt, or have undergone a dramatic transformation, which changed the way you see yourself, others, and the universe as a whole, it is clear that good music has the ability to carry us beyond ordinary states of consciousness.

Having been on the magical, musical bus for eight years now (the bus is a symbol that refers to Ken Kesey's statement "either you're on the bus or your off." Meaning, either you're exploring life, exploring your consciousness in a deep way and going for more than what's on the surface of life or you're not), I thought it would be a good time to take stock of what's happened over the years, to talk about the insights that have come out of the consciousness raising experiment I've been engaged in with various improvisational bands over the years.

So many worlds have opened up inside of me, since I first hopped aboard the bus eight years ago, worlds within worlds within worlds. Worlds that I most likely wouldn't have discovered had my path not led me towards my first Grateful Dead show at R.F.K stadium in June of 1992. I've seen many Dead shows over the years and have had some very special experiences, but R.F.K '92 is significant, because that's where it all began. It got the bus rolling, and its been truckin' down the road ever since - sometimes it's full speed ahead, other times it barely moves, and I've even blown the engine on a couple of occasions, but the bus has been my home for a long time now, many lifetimes, in fact, and I suspect it will always be.

The beauty and magic of the bus, of music, in particular, is that it is equipped to help you plunge below the surface of ordinary everyday life, beyond mundane states of mind to those levels of our consciousness that are rich in meaning and give rise to love and joy, the feelings that make life worth living - the bright colors that illuminate the canvas of our souls.

I have my cousin Erin to thank for all of the musical treasure I've discovered, and ultimately for many of the pearls of wisdom that I've found along the way. It was he who pointed me in the direction of the Grateful Dead, towards that great big pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I think my first concert was the Monkees (hey, we all have to start somewhere), so my first Dead show tilted the pinball machine of my senses - the line of cars backed up for miles in front of R.F.K, all of the colorful characters in the circus that was the parking lot scene, and the music.

But, the music didn't have much of an effect on me at that first show, I didn't get it. "I didn't get it" meaning that I wasn't aware of the glory and magic of the Dead's music, of the beauty of it, of how much love was at the heart of it, and ultimately that I had these very treasures inside of me and could integrate them into my everyday life. As Mickey Hart, one of the Grateful Dead's drummers, said, "some people aren't ready for change. They don't come into the environment with a sense of openness . . . if you come to it with a lot of prejudices, you'll walk away with twice as many. But if you come to it wanting to be moved . . . it makes you look inside and think of things you never thought of."

I wasn't yet ready to change, to open myself up to life in a deeper way, but the seed was planted at my first Grateful Dead show, and it was only a matter of time, about a year or so later, before I started to feel the music more deeply, before it helped me feel things I had never felt before.

The Grateful Dead was only the first step, albeit an important step on the path of this unfolding process, for there were other bands to come that would take me to some sacred inner places, and eventually far over the rainbow. Bands like Solar Circus, Merl Saunders and the Rainforest Band, and the Allman Brothers Band, among others, helped me experience what Jerry Garcia called "the great special treat in life," the magic of being alive.

Something happens when the music is just right, when you are in tune with it and with yourself, that's difficult to explain. The music acts as a mirror and reflects all of those hidden aspects of yourself, of your heart, your soul, that normally stay under wraps. It shows you that there is so much more to life than meets the eye.

In his song "Ripple," Robert Hunter says "there is a fountain that was not made by the hands of men." This fountain he speaks of is inside of us and has the very waters we need to pour on our soul's seeds, so that they will wake up from their dormant states and come to life in a fresh, vibrant way.

Love, passion, connectedness, creativity, that's what we need in order to live meaningful and fulfilling lives. Music can help us touch those qualities, to become aware of their existence. That's what it has to offer. That's its gift to us, to the world.

But on an even deeper level, what music is really trying to show us is that we have the ability to make music that is just as beautiful, just as inspiring, as the most beautiful music in the world. Whether our instrument is writing, cooking, painting, or an actual musical instrument, we have the intrinsic ability to use our lives in such a way that they inspire and heal others, just as the Grateful Dead's music did, for example.

So, it is up to us to deepen the love, the wisdom, the harmony, that we've felt and feel at the best shows, so that we can spread the music too. As Ken Kesey said after Jerry Garcia's death, "Garcia had been fighting the battle for our souls and our hearts and our minds for 30 years. And the war's not over just because one of the generals happens to fall in battle. He would be very hurt if he thought we were going to stop what we were doing just because he died."