hare

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hare… i saw at hare at buddhafield, the first time i have ever met this astonishing, beautiful beast
i was working, visiting our team in the top car park at buddhafield, stepped away into the next field for a pee
perusing the view, out across the dark green of the woods, to the tree strewn fields and the blackdown hills there beyond… blakean, majestic, a mythic vision of british landscape
what? what on earth is that?? some sort of kangaroo? the size of a small dog, a lazy yet purposeful lollop strut as it came towards me
i had always thought, hare is but a bunny on steroids, yet no, not at all, a completely different energy, none of the rabbits twitchy flight
he stopped and looked, pugilist ugly face, before, as if with a shrug, continued on his way… a creature of intent, you know when you have been considered by a hare!
yes, the sleek long attentive ears, when called upon, a burst of impossible speed, helter skelter hare, with his darting quirk jinx flight!
but actually, pugnacious, just as likely to stand his ground and fight…. hare
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awww buddhafield, realm of bliss, laughter and joy, a treat being in the field! … gentle segue into my traditional, sprawling annual post… buddhafield my high summer honeymoon, a romance with life itself, a love song to the endless transcendent beauty of the ephemeral world of form… ha… all the things, most of the people i love in one place, in nature
a brief but busy week, of curiosity and the warmth of gorgeous hugs…. sounds cheesy, i know, but its true… yes, sleep deprivation, being outside, mild exposure, induces a state of perpetual euphoria, but so, so much more than that!
it has taken about a decade of going every year to get ‘there’… ever changing, usually deepening connection
on arrival peacefully sitting under the dripping leaf canopy of a huge old beech tree, next to a near empty pasture, waiting for the rain to stop… eyes on the sky, gauging whether it would be dry enough, long enough, to put up a tent?

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the joyful hodge podge of inumerable small events:
making magical fire from a bow and notched wood, summoning a bright burst of welcome warm flame, with focus, effort… the help of the teachers, dandeion fluff, bracken… and the power of the elements themselves…
i sat with a love, chai and cake, in the teepee at pachamammas, subtle music, a fire, the close comforting babble of other folks chat, watching the gentle unfolding of a long languorous sunset… conjuring, coaxing the beauty of impossible colours, rummaged as if from the dressing up box of the sky and earth itself!

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3 communal rousing and varied singing workshops, ‘freedom is coming, oh yes i know’ bellowed aloud to the heavens!
looking deeply into the eyes of strangers… one soul… no longer strangers
superb vegan crew food grub, guzzling whilst slurping herbal tea, guffaw laughing much of the time
stewarding, rocking the gate in the busy welcoming hours of wednesday, every other car an old friend to kiss, the other vehicles with folk to gabble cheerfully away too… new friends
in the quieter hours nattering nonsense with our lovely steward team, them thar in the ticket office and security
else late at night in buddhafield east, singing along to my fave dylan song with an old school banjo playing hippy, being massaged, dancing arms flailing, whilst supine on the floor with the groovy boogie-ers high in the upright realm above

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kirtan, puja and ritual… followed closely by the latino calypso vibe of dende… wriggled through to the front, where the fun always is, flung about, dance sweaty madness!
late late at night, getting home to my tent, gawping up at the stars and the moon above, my neighbour, with whom i have never spoken comes home, we cuddle for half an hour, satellites, a shooting star to wish on, whispering to each other, her about aliens, me about the different energies of the stars and moon… very buddhafield
oh so so many more memories to wallow in, a thousand festivals blossoming in one
how to anchor these truths deep within ourselves? engaging body, mind, speech, heart and soul… only when our hearts are open, buoyed up by the infectious glee of each others tender company could this ever be possible
the thrill of a gentle, soft, slow, strong hug… there is no rush… here, in your arms, not always, but yes, sometimes.. ha!… beyond time, beyond space, tumble into the immense, eternal rapture of the heart… one love, thank you x

pics by Kit Williams, from masquerade… and Rima Staines

http://www.rimastaines.com

Mahasukha/ Xavier Rudd Spirit Bird… from midst the funky bass massive

vimbleeydon

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Vimbleeydon! said in a fake ozzie ardilles tottingham tone
perfect for a scorcher sunshine day… Finn had the telly on yesterday whilst i was working, no distraction whatsoever!
as a kid i’d always be ill at this time of year, it would be my birthday and i’d have to lie in bed eating strawbs, wearing sweat bands, pondering tennis
it was always only a few train stops up the road from where i grew up, so went several times late 70’s early 80’s usually with flaps
the famous time (yearly trundling out of same hoary anecdote) skipped college and went up at dawn to join the queue for free standing…
once they opened the gates cheerful mad dash and got to front row on center court… it was 82, got to see a grumpy McEnroe in his pomp!
first week, so he turned up, thrashed his opponent in about an hour, as tho flicking off a flea, then was gawn, superb

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82, ha must have been the year federer was born! Vitus Gerulatis! Roscoe Tanner, Borg frolicking on a baltic island with all of abba
anyway fabulous day, except turning up for college the next morning… usual excuses ‘sabre tooth tiger ate my homework’, except my kindly form tutor Dr Rispoli
‘where were you yesterday?’ he’d spotted me on the evening news, front row wearing a bright orange t-shirt…. camouflage seldom my forte!
….
anyway been up since 5:30, failing to mend my bike puncture, it’s blooming impossible!
aw wimbledon, must admit the genteel english middle class-ness makes me cringe, but should be a bumper crop this year, possibly the last hurrah for federer, nadal, djokovic… oh and murray too, fabulous players!
won’t see any of it at buddhafield… will just be too busy ecstatic dancing… nimble skipping towards enlightenment x

RP: You always were a malingerer x

ha, fey artistic temperament you mean, bet keats never had to put up with such heckling ‘stop moping around, get a proper job!’, still i spose the poor fellow really was under the weather x

Julia C: Wobbledon Wimble on x

McKenna

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went to see a fascinating talk by Dennis McKenna yesterday, hosted by club imaginal
he covered an impressive coagulation of material in 2 hours, mostly with aplomb… occasionally at a plod… consciousness and psychedelics
i came away with the notion that perceived reality is a mental construct, the realm we inhabit a symbolic hallucination
that and the extent to which we, and all living things are, whether we realise it or not, in profound symbiosis with the plants
not new ideas, but well expressed… as with many of these talks some of the science is speculative (a smidgin spurious)… but dennis equally stressed the importance of poetic insight
are the plant guides external or internal? he was refreshingly agnostic about that
a priviledge to have the opportunity to see and hear these counter cultural icons… not quite the firebrand like his brother, but 50 years working in the field of ethno botany is an impressive haul
me.. wafflesome as ever, was still thinking of it this morning, marshland awash with mallows, bike got a puncture so a long purple push in which to admire them! fractal
pink blush of blackberry blossom, the purple tinge to the thorns, stain and harbringer of the coloured fruit to come
‘amongst ungulants’, as soon as our hominid anscestors left the cradle of our arboreal home, dabbling with fire, following the herds, curious mushroom guzzlers, consciousness flowering, dwell midst this the radiant (528) frequency of hathor

olga da polga

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olga da polga! the guinea pig with a dramatic flair and a penchant for elaborating almost everything
many guffaws as a child… and in turn reading them to my kids
oh and he wrote paddington too… RIP

https://www.theguardian.com/…/jun/28/michael-bond-obituary

Mel: And a love for Tommy Tittlemouse!!!

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ha! born to everyones suprise on ants birthday, tittlemouses oedipal relationship with his mother founded a dynasty, before being banished to live out his days munching grass in grannys park… sounds like something out of caligula … but the guineas were fab! x

solstice stones

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happy solstice! may fire and passion blaze forever in your hearts
… and if your british, wear red knickers on your head and prance around an ancient stone circle at dawn (again)
just back from a 5Rhythms crew overnight adventure jaunt to the stones
how was stonehenge? bizarre, motley, chaotic and really rather wonderful!
yes of course everybody and their grandmother was there, waving there phones in the air (ever on trend i managed 6 grainy snaps)
in the dark hours before dawn too many geezers meandering… but buried within it all, why firstly the stones themselves, ancient, warm, soft and pulsating, freckled with lichen, fluffy with moss giving back all the lush heat of the day,
and yes some of the drumming was incessant and tedious… but then for an hour, lost midst the supple gyre of looping rhythms, arms flung high to the dark night sky, ullulating to the sarsen stones looming large overhead, together
later dancing up the sun with the krishnas, whilst everyone peers like meerkats, waiting awaiting away to the east
and finally a shared moment at the altar stone… a circle of us, hands touching, forehead softly nestled to the rock… exhausted, remembering, tears on my cheek… fare well, dwell long beloved soul in these the summer lands of the spirit
a wordless hug with a soft, beautiful stranger
ha! and the voyage there and back, frazzled in arundel tea rooms
… stone circles are amazing… four and a half thousand years! our land, all of us, wherever we are from, a privilege and a treat to be amongst them
right off to dance… waagh

comment about clobber

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ha! i wish, sadly not, nor is it hand woven by dryads, from spider skein under the lambent light of the beltane fool moon? no, you know me a vision in lurid polyester and cheap nylons… my soul is 100% acrylic… charity shop find some years back xx

socialist

WOW! that is a gobsmacking result, extraordinary!!
young people voted… in their droves… and they voted SOCIALIST, hurrah!
well done!!! (sayeth grandpa, and wouldn’t classify myself as a socialist)
and this against a backdrop of the ukip vote imploding and mostly trundling to the conservatives
kudos to corbyn, personally i thought he had no chance, michael foot rebooted
may is toast!
stayed up far too late, and lewes result was pants, so near in hastings, bad luck
but look at what happened in all the brighton constituencies!!! huge swings, personal mandates for caroline lucas and peter kyle, and a strong victory in kemp town…. brilliant!

maggot tatcher

(polling day)

death to Maggot Tatcher! Vote Red, Vote Green! Vote Beetroot! Kali Yurga!?
and errm in my case vote lib dem! its newhaven/lewes, only chance of ousting the evil incumbent… ‘go tim’… said noone ever
i always like election day, a jolly georgian affair of rotton boroughs, rosettes and hope… sadly its usually the day after which is forever devastating
visceral disgust at the tories, they sicken me… i tried to do a whirling dervish dance in the church last night, but rather than reaching the usual ecstatic bliss, just felt queasy and nauseous
as tho i’d accidentally swallowed a tory election leaflet, or the front page of many of the tabloids?
personally i’d vote green, as what we’re recklessly doing to the planet is my gravest concern, plus i love the swashbuckling romanticism… and caroline lucas is genuinely brilliant and inspiring
i appreciate only a few of my friends would actually vote tory… and i struggle to comprehend it, but i guess thats part of me being a middle aged, middle class intellectual, when your life is awash with privilege and benign circumstances, hard to imagine a different world view… even tho their completely utterly WRONG! ha!
i’ve mostly ignored the election, i know where i stand, but the couple of times i’ve seen jezza, have to say he’s had a really good election… focused, coherent, passionate, benign
oh well, all will be as it will be
do get out and vote tho… its a beautiful thing, an honour to be able to do so
… and vote green!

oblig (as opposed to obliga-TORY!) polling day snap, tho due to govt cutbacks we can no longer afford any eyes

tho as the lad has a cold, he wouldn’t do the suggested ‘power to the people’ stance… spoilsport… kids of today!

Russet

Russet and peach, the soft subtle colours of Woodbury hill fort just before the rain, red Devon soil overlaid with last years leaf mulch and the skein husk from fresh beech leaves… the deep groove of Iron Age fortification, now overgrown with wriggle rooted trees…. beneath the canopy of lustrous green… nature mingled with the ancient, the sacred… plus inevitable selfie x