[dropcap size=big]T[/dropcap]ouring more of the grounds, I found that across from the entrance, on the edge of the venue, were three badass sanctuaries for an assortment of rituals, ceremonies, and general chilling about. Continuing to the right of the entrance was where the festival proper took place: the Village. Established as the common grounds for the entire festival, the Village packed in all kinds of culinary vendors, merchant storefronts, and even its own neat little stage that looked like a cross between a bayou cabin and a surfside shack. Every day in the town square of Envision, the area saw patrons coddled in hammocks strewn about the trees, brave souls backflipping off slacklines, and a woman capturing hearts with an aerial silk performance among the thousands of vibrant people chilling where they please.
Trekking past the Village center and its web of hammocks and slacklines, the rest of the festival’s three stages opened up. The concepts behind the Sol and Luna stages were exceedingly interesting, with the former being home to Beats Antique, Elephante Revival, and a host of other live acts, and the Luna stage jutting out directly behind the Sol stage, facing the opposite direction. Clearly playing on the relationship between night and day, the Luna stage was home to Shpongle, Random Rab, CloZee, and the bass driven vibes of thousands of dancing feet.
Not as big as the Luna or Sol stages, but just as dear to my heart was the Lapis stage. House, trance, tech – if you’re into a steady, driving rhythm, this was the spot. Day one was my first experience with live psy-trance, and my god is it perfection in a jungle setting. Hundreds crowded underneath the stage’s canopy and locked themselves into their respective grooves. The smells of sweat, Palo Santo, incense dhoop, and herb was overpowering, but grossly intoxicating.
It’s strange to say, and I never thought I’d notice, but Envision is the best smelling festival I’ve ever attended. With the abundance of essential oils, incense, and wood variations, coupled with over 4,700 conscious individuals using them to near excess, the only foul smelling places were the toilets. And even those weren’t so bad, since being compostable meant that all the waste is covered with sawdust, not left to bake inside a plastic dome.
I couldn’t help but giggle to myself a bit as I saw patrons strewn about the grounds holding smoldering sticks or glowing lumps of ember around their faces. But it wasn’t long before some friends offered me a roll of dhoop and I was right along with them flailing my limbs about and trailing the odiferous smoke like a wannabe ribbon gymnast.
