Rock

Round. Obdurate. Enduring
the patience to wait, yet suffice in yourself
I come with my monkey whorl of fingerprints
to prod, then caress
smooth serene, with the occasional hiccup of grit, rough to the touch
a small eggs worth of heft
One which rolls, a trundle of off kilter eccentricity
World Revolves around You
World revolves around Our Human Heart

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A short poem I wrote in a ‘Work That Reconnects’ Workshop at Buddhafield
curious as I haven’t written anything in months, yet this appeared, full formed, in less than 15 minutes
I have always loved the ‘Work That Reconnects’, Joanna Macy’s profound ‘Engaged Buddhism’, which attempts to give us a framework to begin to grapple with our hopes and grief concerning climate catastrophe
a spiral of 4 workshops, around the themes of ‘Gratitude’, ‘Honouring Our Pain’, ‘Seeing with New and Ancient Eyes’ and ‘Going Forth’
This year I made 3 of the 4 workshops, they were all held, each day, between 10 – 12 in a small yurt next to the Dharma Parlour
A beautiful intimate space, a geodesic dome, of canvas and rough hewn wooden poles, with a buddha shrine and the vibrant colours of flowers… far from the thudding techno of the dance tent (which indeed has its time and place)
I enjoyed the daily, routine regular aspect of it, an excellent opportunity to check in, gauge my energy before the cheerful chaos of the main festie
Many of the fellow participants used it in the same way, loved connecting with Meg, Emily, Jess, and many others, every morning
The workshops themselves are a proper smorgasbord, some eye gazing, some chatting in pairs, some discussion within the wider group, psychotherapeutic practices, creative visualisation and, of course, galloshers of hugging
a sprinkling of everything! which satisfies my restless nature!

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before writing the poem we had been in 2 smaller circles, each had a bowl of water in the centre, which represents our tears, we then took turns to go into the centre of the circle and name our grief
mine was obvious, and profound, but not for a blog post
I found the process of naming this grief a little performative, yet afterwards, sitting in circle listening to the others, my tears began to flow
so much stigma, for a man, and people generally, around crying in public, it’s useful and beautiful to do this

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Oh and now I want to tell about the Jewels Wingfield ‘Belonging’ workshop straight afterwards, in the main workshop space
a plea for tribal acceptance
We split into groups of 4, with each participant focused on in turn, intense eye gazing three staring at the one, 10 minutes each, the repetitive and rhythmic ‘welcome, welcome’ uttered on each and every out breath
I’ve done this workshop on previous years, so was quite relaxed about it, our group was a couple of friends, one of whom had her 5 year old son with her… and another with her 5 year old daughter and a 3 month old baby!
Part of me was ‘eye gazing in a group with 3 children! probs not going to work’, the first round was admittedly chaotic
yet after that the 2 children became extremely peaceful, whilst the baby got on with breast feeding
for the woman with the babies turn, I took the little ‘un and cradled him on my lap
a beautiful experience, eye gazing always so powerful… as the workshop was themed around our loss of tribal belonging, a sprinkling of kids definitely helped
made me think how I am currently missing having small children in my life

and Triskele… a weird, beautiful three holed stone I found a few months back, tacked on the end here!

Vote

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VOTE! Kick the Tories Out!… Don’t forget your id (and Courgette flower)

A lovely sunny morning, I trundled up the hill early, its a pleasantly anachronistic process, a sedate hullabaloo… bit glasto, bit wimbledon, bit dull… and, i think, important x