I arise early and get dressed for body choir. This morning I choose leggins, fringed cutoffs, a black nylon t-shirt with rhinestone studs, my goretex boots and red leather jacket. I head downtown for two hours of ecstatic trance dancing with the tribe.

Imagine a room full of people of all ages dancing like nobody's watching. Envision a couple of male bhuddas, poking their big round bellies out like balloons, running into each other from a short distance, and bouncing apart when their stomachs collide. Sense what it might feel like when the music dies down and everyone collapses on the floor in a big sweaty heap, holding and massaging each other during share back time.

Imagine people sharing their insights and epiphanies, laughing and crying, expressing all manner of grattitude for the opportunity to break through emotional barriers and change their minds by dancing. The insights are profound and perspectives are diverse. Once all the burning desires have been expressed, everyone speaks their name. After the tribe finishes processing the dance experience, some of us head for a taco bar down the street where a live band is entertaining patrons with bluesy gospel music.

Once in a while word gets out to some of the more conservative-type of traditional church-folk, that there is gospel music on Sundays at Marias, and they venture over for lunch. I keep my eye on the door because it's fun to watch the agape jaws drop when the people in suits arrive and realize they've entered a room full of bikers, cowboys and wild women, drinking beer and sipping maragaritas, with hip-gyrating hippies doing backbends on the dance floor, while a black blues band is singing, "I recommend Jesus" and "Nobody Moves Like The Lord!"

Today a long haired white Harley Davidson biker dude wearing cowboy boots brought his french harp along with him, and the band invited him to come up on stage and blow through a song. He made the hair on our necks stand up with his harmonica. But the thing that made my heart quiver, and brought tears to my eyes, was witnessing him and the tall bald-headed black lead singer drape their arms around each other and hug, right there on stage, in public. There is hope for the human race.

And then it was off to the "Keep Austin Bizarre", where I could have easily spent a thousand dollars or more on clothes and jewelry from all over the world, but fortunately my pockets were empty.