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!

buddhafield

fire!
clarissa
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heart drenched with love, back from buddhafield, my slightly belated, a little bit exhausted, waffle appreciation post for the yearly lush bubble of buddha… soul nourished, mind frazzled yet fizzed, pure exuberance
so good to see friends with their babies and toddlers, a new generation, to meet again after the grueling covid palaver
beautiful pics from cc, as my phone turned off, thanks lovely x

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‘spring water flowing
through a meadow and the shadows of clouds
passing over the hills and the ground
where we stand in the tremble of thought
taking the vast outside into ourselves.’
from billy collins: directions

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we the bright shining ones
a nighttime visit to the crew tent filling thermos flask with barleycup, about to head to the dance tent for a euphoric footstomping psytrance rave
ah buddhafield the only time ‘barley cup and rave’ sit congruently within the same sentence
else:
emerging from a devotional puja to the sumptuous colours and harmony of an epic sunset
lounging in the shade in a hammock, amongst the oaks and silver birches in the glade… before, eek, quick stepping up to the front gate, stewards hat on, to help out with the van fire!
singing with gleeful but tuneless gusto buried within the brethern of the bass section… snoozing in the dharma parlor
in a ‘work that reconnects’ workshop, grieving the loss of species and habitat, then lurching into the middle of a comedy yoga skit out on the village green
these things, and yes, a lot of dancing! i so love to dance… to drums after the rituals, live music in small world, or to the bedlam cacophony in the recycling / drum and bass tent
gleeful juxtaposition… each minutiae but a fractal of the whole… or vice versa?! a summoning

hare
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i tend to wonder, wander, wind blown thistledown, seeds of the heart, going whither my feet roam… join a group, then drift away… trying to stay within the field, the aura of grace and flow… the minute i ‘want’ something/somebody the energy seeps away
trust that when i acknowledge the immediacy, the intimacy of feeling… then all is fine, not to say flippin’ gorgeous
it helps knowing so many people, disparate down the years, else just to turn around and share a few noodlin’ words with your neighbour
the golden thread of hare magic, motif, woven through the whole festival
Alala’s heartfelt recitation of a poem from memory
the divine transcendence of a hug from a stranger, a lover, stopped still for eternity halfway across the field… green gold, gold green… twixt nettles and the hare
an impromptu 5 minute sing-a-along and boogie in a queue for crew food
chanting kirtans around the fire as the moon rises and the night time stars wheel serenely overhead

parking
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my stewarding mostly consisted of meandering between the different steward positions, checking how everyone was getting on
each a Galapagos island of conversation, chewing the breeze(?), sure, a 5 minute of perfunctory ‘hows the shift going’ which swiftly lurches in ANY beautiful and random direction:
‘vipassana and the myth kitty of each individual, unique yet eternal soul’
‘whats your favourite flavour and colour of ice lolly?’
‘the spirit essence of our huge ancient beech tree’
‘the mores, foibles and manners of the 90’s crusties squat rave scene’
‘the beauty and exquisite precision of logical thought’
‘roll over on your back, kick your legs in the air, upturned turtle yoga!’
i always love stewarding and the whole steward team… most of it’s loafing about nattering to passers by…
else laconically, on the walkie talkie, in best late night radio dj voice issuing shift advice ‘watch out for maroon motors… they always give most trouble. over’
yet occasionally something festival important happens, focus, reset: function… ‘how can i help?’
part of the joy of the steward crew is that often their fresh to the whole experience
many of them the same age as my kids… i’m occasionally pondering what does it mean to become an elder? if not me… if not us… then who? if not now then when?
a slow gradual transition, settlling down into this, suprisingly comforting, notion
what are the energies and the postures that i wish to model?
wisdom. open hearted kindness. embody boldness… that man can be a bedraggled, florid extravaganza! that world is both beautiful and often funny? that to sing and dance and chat together is astonishing, we are enough
all of that and stubborn more
i see too many folk, usually young men, wandering around on their own, bewildered on the fringes… these kindred… all beings are welcome, all included… some fierce yet protective dharmaparla spirit
Feet Rooted in the earth, Rose Gold Rising, Arms Aloft, White Gold tumbling down… these energies to spill out from the heart, onto this land or into anothers arms… echo echo the same
x
as always to clutch at things with a splodge of words, acknowledge the intangible, the various… breathe

buddha
buddha

Jonnyfen: Beautiful words man! x

thanks lovely, hope to see you there next year x

Clarissa: Love this! Takes you right back there reading these beautiful words 😍

Dinnae neglect nor forget the glorious pics too! Xx

Saoirse: Joy beyond joy, deep immersion in the moment. Blissful and radiant .

Graeme: Summation.It was a great pleasure working with you once again Richard.These words deepen a tangible gratitude for this gift we share.Ty 🙏😊🕉💖🌌⛺🔥

Yes. Ditto. Hugely enjoyed reconnecting with you, Emma and all the team. Having a role, some responsibilities… however fluffy and occasionally flakey… helps anchor the experience. In a warm, supportive, rich and stimulating environment we can all flourish… and become more who we truly are… blessings on your onward journey! xx

We be beautiful!

Sam: Was lovely to see you again Richard 😌💜🕉

You too bro! Tho, ha, that ‘neuro-bleak-batter-core’ was a dismal racket! Dunno how Cleo and Ella tolerated it… Each to their own! Xx

Ok ok secretly I loved it… Life isn’t always folk noodlin and bird song!

Sam: haha 😂 everybody loves a cheeky bit of neuro 🤓Hope you got home alright bro & are adjusting back to whatever this normal stuff is 😳😂👌 x

Ha ha… Soul is always exultant, yet mind frequently dingy and body just craves a ferocious beat!… Neuro deffo has its place … All good here, tho stopping by Saintsburys on way back from a run, smiles, let alone hugs in drastic short supply… Wishing ya ease for your transition xx

RP: Ooh, like the sound of that!

Cleo: Lovely to see you Richard! Hope you having a wonderful time back by your coast ❤️ big love xx

Cleo! thanks m’dear… all pleasantly slow and gentle back in seaside sussex… today will toodle along to stanmer organics… permaculture, tea and a boogie…. adventures continueloved your warmth and beautiful energy at the festie… hope life flows sweetly with you! hug xxx

Cleo: sounds wonderful and i am glad to here your adventure continues 🥰 lovely to see you again, the kindest soul and maybe the seaside will call us together someday – see you on the coastline✨🌊

thanks… sweeet xxx

wind upend

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fellow in a lurid tabard, frog shower cap (again)… and a tree
……………………………
stewarding, sunday, buddhafield weekender…. a day of near perpetual rain, the whole smorgasboard gamut, full pelt raindrops through to the softest faze of drizzle
peaceful on shift, sheltering beneath this majestic beech… a fallen down standing up tree!… once so tall, now so long!
a world wind upended, 90 degrees, exposed roots, yet some still manage to wriggle down to push up branches… earth, loam juice to plump out leaves
a peaceful place somewhere on the edge… ‘gate at the far end of live-ins, just above slope’, my snappy walkie talkie identifier
i am an admirer of margins, sublime of the liminal… forgotten land, often the most fertile
hogweed, on steroids, this vast british bamboo… coils of brambles, thick as my arm, spikes that gouge
a liliputian within this world, overgrown, a writhe and tussle of senses, smells, colours, an orchestra… bindweed flower, a bright, white trumpet.. sweet woodbine, pong of honeysuckle ukelele?
fennel as dendrite fractal… hairy moss like dirty bathwater stains the trunk of a tree… splurge of lichen mandala
bend down, to see the lopped beech branches fashioned into the shape of an opening
portal to another land, guarded by a single proud, vigilant nettle… gatekeeper
realm of enchantment… this after, whilst on shift, long ambient chats with chantal… lucidity.. land of the fae, where colours are brighter, songs both more mournful, yet stirring
this realm is always here, hugging us like a shadow… sometimes, at the midday of rational thought, clenched tight and close, almost invisible
yet, in a wester-ing sunset light, it flickers, seems to stretch out far across valley, immense in landscape
except, flip side, a world wind upended, here is but the shadow of there… yearn surrender, relax, lapse, fall back into the honeyed realm

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articulate beauty, the word, but a cardinal direction always with a playful warmth… teeter edge of pomposity, po faced, a man with both a moustache and a manifesto!
ooops… woken up, head full of the jumble of word drool, just a brief jotting down, ha
at my sisters, for some very pleasant rest, headed back to festie later this morning
despite the gloop of mud, its been a laugh so far… many fabulous people… a chance to dance!… guess you gotta kiss a lot of frogs
anyway… hurrah for festies, land, connection!

…………………….

reply to Al: totes! be brill to see you guys… ha, one year amma in kerala, the next a field of buddhas xx

bring wellies, obvs, forecast is good, but a quagmire of mud will take a while to dry out!

it’ll dry out… plus only half the number of folks, so won’t be too bad… tho always best to bring sturdy clobber as well as your sunshine frocks! x

festie face

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festie face! like some sepia wee and tea stained old master portrait, and an impressive chameleon blending with the wall
a couple of consecutive long long 5am nights dancing like a nutter at bimble down the road
managed to neglect to take a single snap whilst there, yet great thanks to all the bonkers folk and co-boogiers
you guys were beautiful!! even if i can barely summon any names? a suprisingly healthy buddhafield contingent!… glitter, glory and sweat galore
sadly didn’t make it back this arvo, storms and perpetual snoozing
did manage one good dawn time deed picking a gaggle of trashed 18 year old gatecrashers up off the entrance road and taking them home to piddinghoe, beneath the grogginess, they were lovely… ooh we’ve most certainly all been there

… and mostly unrelated, always loved this botticelli, glimpsed whilst posting

buddhafield yatra

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buddhafield yatra, a collated smattering of pics borrowed from wren, kamalashila, nigel, lokabhandu and khemashalini… thanks
last weeks pilgrimage walk along the Ridgeway to the sacred stones at Avebury… walking in single file, in silence
a beautiful heart opening week of camping with some lovely people in the full abundance of spring
amongst many things… hmmm swimming in father thames, waking up 10ft away from iron age long barrows, metta bhavna meditation outside for an hour before breakfast,
guzzling porridge… a huge lightning flash fest, thunder earth rumble storm… whilst overhead the fizz of fresh beech leaves thrashed in the gale….
delish vegan grub, sore feet, campfires, endless cheerful natter, horses, sheep, cows… golden glow of dandelions at avebury, skipping along the sanctuary awash with the simplicity of love
… arriving at uffington white horse (dragon!) on the eve of St Georges for a glorious sunset ritual, wild fierce wind, red flag against the sky, transforming delight of dragon energy
… myriad blackthorn blossom, their white 5 petalled flowers, sacred to venus aphrodite, the subtle fractal filligree of unfurling ash leaves
the weather generally benign, one day of endless rain, me wind hurtle joyfully running around the earthen ramparts of barbury castle, soaked to the skin, with still a few hours left to walk!
ah, a happy and garbled jumble of memory and sensation… my most powerful time was probably the morning from uffington to the amazing neolithic chamber tomb at waylands smithy, standing at the chalken eye, then plodding onwards in solemn silence
suprisingly strong feelings of sorrow, so much lost, to mourn, yet much that still remains. how to allow this? to be easy with loss, sadness and yearning?
well as i tried to articulate in the closing circle… what better than the support of friendship and community, gratitude for the compassion of our fellow walkers, thanks…
but also, nearly beltane blessings, this sorrow held, mitigated, transformed by the beauty and abundance of this sacred country, our land, here in the full power of spring, each leaf bud bursts with the gentle tenderness of heart. love x


comment to wren: ha! thanks love xx
DRAGON! Sunset, before the flag puja ritual, uffington white horse, dragons knoll, buddhafield yatra, eve of St Georges, 2018
lurid beautiful hues of amitabha and the setting sun, wild, wild fierce wind, sore feet, fervour and love in the heart

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blissful! tho if had been as soggy as today probs would have been a smidgin gruelling! xx

indeed, a fierce beauty in our souls and this astonishing land… tho do wish kipping in a tent was a bit more comfy, ha xx

ooh no… just the walking! and up till breakfast (after meditation)… i’m not the most impressive conversationalist before porridge anyway! was plenty of pleasant idle nattering rest of time xx

thanks! being outside, in good company, during an intoxicatingly beautiful british spring, is a boon and a blessing… hope all be grand down in oz xx

ha! noooo… spring rules ok… as i peer out the window at teeming rain and a howling gale… british winter tho, that can bog off!… watch out for a somewhat wrinkled and dishrevelled rapscallion turning up on your doorstep one january xx