The heart of hippie culture holds some real substance. The music was tight. The sexual revolution was carried by hippies. Psychedelic drugs, at that time and used in the way they were, did open many creative doors. Original hippies pioneered a culture that launched some of the very tenets we hold dear: questioning hegemony, following your passion without needing parental approval, unconventional (non-Judeo-Christian) spirituality, racial/sexual equality, self-determination, raging against the machine, willingness to consider alternatives.

Unfortunately, while these ideas sound attractive to many, few know how to live them. And hippie culture is inherently incomplete — it was monogenerational, and it couldn’t have lasted without devolving (which it did, as more and more clueless masses latched on to the hippie identity yet made fewer behavioral moves in alignment with the principles). At the present, therefore, there are behaviors pegged as “hippie” that are wildly different from its original meaning.

Hippie culture’s incompleteness lends to its passive-aggressive nature. I can imagine that the urge to “turn on, tune in, drop out” felt very similar to our urge to rewild … the hippies simply weren’t shown a clear alternative to civilized bullshit and had to resort to passivity and avoidance tactics.

It’s too bad that a good thing was ruined, obfuscated by magic crystals and empty mantras. And it’s too bad that this is the impression we’re left with regarding hippies.

I can feel the soul, the energy, and the integrity of true hippie culture when I listen to Dylan, Hendrix, and the Who on vinyl. When I see the old photos, look at the visual art, read the literature. When I walk by the rare home in Seattle whose landscaping has been unaltered since 1972.

I’m only 26 and my inner child identifies as one of those hippies. The hopelessly small town where I was born and raised offered me no good options regarding a culture to which I could belong, so I chose hippie culture. I listened to those albums, read those books, absorbed the best bits of hippie culture … readily. With no pretension or self-consciousness. 60s style rebellion, believe it or not in spite of my age, is in my heart and comprises most of my value system, despite my never having lived through that era. Yet I don’t mess around with any of the New Age cultish magic crystal bullshit or Eastern (civilized) religions, I eat plenty of meat, and I think long flowing skirts look pretty stupid.

Today I still love the original hippie scene, as much as I now also dig Baroque painting, jazz, and Russian literature. I fully believe a hippie can rewild. Hell… I’m doing it!

Obviously you didn’t get the joke, which doesn’t make me an asshole, but shows that we find humor in different ways. But don’t worry, now I know who and where to call if I need consultation of natural supplements. I hope you don’t mind if I make a house call?

Why does your comment matter but his post doesn’t? Who’s the narcissist again?

Grow up and out of your narcissism.

Awesome story! Sweet scout move snatching that envelope. I like how you used tracking and scout skills to win the confrontation.

I followed this story from the beginning. Unbelievable!

What a great ending to a great story. SCOUTED, BITCH. Hippie had it coming.

And y’know, I honestly don’t think you were THAT hard on hippies. I actually cheered when I read that paragraph.