This past weekend was Topanga Days—the biggest event of the year in our canyon. It's one of those moments when the community pours itself into celebration, and the whole town shows up in color. Katy and I went to both parts of the festivities: the music festival on Saturday and the Memorial Day parade on Monday. Together, they offered not only great fun, but also an unexpected opportunity to tune into the unique spirit of this place.
Field Notes from the Music Festival
The festival grounds were set beneath the local community center field, surrounded by characteristic breathtaking view of the canyon. Vendors circled the field, food trucks filled the air with spices and sizzle, and bands played back-to-back on the main stage. Katy and I brought a blanket, found an empty spot in the middle of the crowd, and laid back to listen.
There’s something grounding about lying on the earth with music moving through the air. At one point during a performance by Spazamatics, I closed my eyes and let the bass move through me. It became a kind of sound meditation—breathing in rhythm, feeling the beat settle into my chest. Sometimes in meditation, we sit in silence to find presence. But here, in the middle of a music festival, I found that same quiet inside a storm of sound.
We wandered a bit too—watching the sack race (a favorite), browsing handmade goods, and people-watching. There’s a playful innocence to seeing adults fall over in burlap sacks or kids dancing in the dust. It reminded me how joy can be a practice too.
The Parade: Color, Culture, and Community
On Monday, the canyon gathered again for the Memorial Day parade. Topanga Canyon Blvd. filled with classic cars, floats, motorcycles, horses, bicycles, and scooters of every kind. People dressed up in costumes, threw candy to kids, waved flags, and leaned out of windows shouting greetings. There were bubbles, banners, tutus, capes, and an unmistakable flare that could only be described as Topanga.
What I loved most was how every float felt personal—homemade, heart-filled. It was DIY culture at its most sincere. You could see the effort, the family collaborations, the inside jokes that only canyon locals would understand. In a world that often feels so curated and polished, this felt refreshingly real.
And even in the excitement, there was room for mindfulness. As the parade passed by, I practiced a kind of moving meditation—watching each moment arise and fade: a marching band, then a man on stilts, then a dog in costume. Just like thoughts. Just like clouds.
When Presence Meets Place
Topanga Days is loud and colorful and celebratory—but beneath the surface, it’s also an invitation. To notice. To witness a place revealing itself through its people. To remember that even joy, even community, can be a form of practice.