For the most part, the same exhibitors are there, year after year. There’s a glut of metaphysical, new agey people with much to say about the present state of your life and more to say about your past lives and the one coming up. Some of them are very nice, but there are a few who make me feel like I’m being challenged while backed into a corner. I’ve learned to give these guys wide berth.
Then there’s the fitness types. Here we have the muscle-bound surrounded by every supplement, energy drink, and many appliances to make your life THE BEST IT CAN BE. These guys have an energy around them that makes me want to run (away).
Speaking of appliances, I got to sit in a portable sauna for a few minutes. There was no steam as it used infra red heat. What you do is sit down and zip up the front so that you are encased in a thin fabric reminiscent of aluminum foil draped over a squarish, tent-like frame. There was an opening for your head and two slits for your hands in case you want to read a book or knit or something. It did get nice and hot, and I felt like an extra on the Jetsons. Then the lady at the booth took out a massager that looked like two balls on a bent, flexible oar and proceeded to untangle my stiff shoulders and neck. Then she put these funny glasses on me that were solid plastic with tiny pin-holes in them and had me read the fine print about some color therapy glasses. The pin-hole glasses supposedly strengthen your eyes so that eventually you won’t need glasses to read anymore. I don’t know about the long-term, but I was able to read the tiny words. Then she pulled the box of color therapy glasses. These were made of cheap plastic in crayony colors of pink, orange, blue, purple, turquoise, etc. Each color works on a different organ of your body. So as I tried out glasses for my liver, stomach and spleen, we traded stories of our drug-colored youth.
After I left the appliance-for-every-occasion booth, I had a lovely chat with the daughter of the Voodoo priestess. I had no idea that there were Voodoo priestesses in Philadelphia. Both her parents were there, the mother doing readings for people, the father doing something, but I couldn’t figure out what. Their lovely daughter told me her father is also an artist and teaches at Tyler. She gave me a pamphlet, in which it explains that they still engage in animal sacrifice. Sweet as the young girl was, I’m glad I’m not into religion. Especially one that includes entrails.
You can’t expect to be at a mind/body/spirit expo without a good amount of energy healers, certainly my favorite group. They don’t hawk their wares, call out to you, or try to maneuver you into their lair the way a lot of the others do. I usually get a mini energy healing session, reiki or some other relaxing thing midway through the day. Years ago, I’d have gone out for a cigarette break, but I’ve given up the habit. A little energy boost is better for my health, but not nearly as satisfying. Oh well, times change…
I had a grand time talking to the people selling drums. There were some really neat djembes, hand drums and doumbeks. There was this cool little doumbek that had an purple, aluminum body with a transparent, turquoise, plastic head. I think it was designed for a mermaid. The store is called Earth Rhythms, located in Reading, PA. I’m going to bring my big djembe to them to see if they can tune it. I hope I don’t buy another drum while I’m at it, but there are no guarantees when it comes to these sorts of things.
My last stop, and my true purpose for going, was the booth set up by Wisdom of the Earth. The owner is a sight in his heavily fringed, very purple suede jacket, knee-high mocassins and tons of silver and turquoise jewelry (yes, he lives in Sedona). Despite the unfortunate attire, he has the most divine essential oils I’ve ever had the pleasure to sniff. I picked up my years supply of lavender EO, some peppermint for headaches and mouthwash and a perky grapefruit to rub into my palms when I give Reiki sessions.
Each year, I learn to trust my instincts more. The expo is a true learning experience for me. This year I spent more time talking than spending money (which is a good thing). And next year, I think I’ll spend more time playing with the nice palm reader (Ted) and less with the defensive christian selling crystals (never got his name as I was backing away too fast).
So this year’s expo-lesson was …purple drumroll…it’s never a good idea to buy metaphysical shit from angry people.