I came across some peasblossom at the end of my run today… it nearly made me cry… not for any murky sorrows, tho they are forever lurking, but just because it was so gorgeous and enchanting a vibrant pink magenta in colour, like some Thai Airways orchid… hothouse spoilt… preposterous an escaped cultivar? slumming it amongst the ruffians of ragwort and briar petals peeking out here, then THERE, far flung further along… betwixt and between the tendrils submarine submerged somewhere beneath the host bush louche and sprawled throughout the hedgerow, the flowers, like some 1920’s flapper, partied out, collapsed, draped elegantly across a chaise lounge
when we were young my older sister was peasblossom, one of the fairies in midsummers night dream she had this beautiful, frivolous, lace and tulle pink garment, topped off with a purple pixie cap i vaguely recall the performance, outdoors, it went on forever, so it seemed to the 5 year old me, i was sitting under a chair… late late late, yet still light in the sky, so must indeed have been midsummers eve solstice the endless languish of light the costume was a staple of the dressing up box throughout my childhood, that and dads old biggles-esque leather flying helmet, that he, in turn, had worn as a child, the smell rich, leathery, beautiful oh and a long blonde wig, which dad had foolishly bought for mum, she always had dark short hair, instantly BANISHED to the dressing up box… whatever her opinion of the wig, the four of us all loved it a box of possibilities?
oh peasblossom unkempt amongst the hedgerow as we pass through the world, world is straggle pulled through us
away across the field, a swag uddered cow yet to be milked the gut clutch of being, churn the raft of thoughts, ego clod hopper lurches across
yet beyond this, all is golden, in its majesty, brimful, somehow swollen life is imbued by the gentle quality of our cherishing steady… with poise… toes uncurled, dear Hobbit, bask in this, the endless, endless torrent of presence
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this the bliss, the blossoming of our perpetual becoming
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
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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
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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
buddhabuddha
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
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!
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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! 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, 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
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
everybody loves a cheeky bit of neuro 
Hope you got home alright bro & are adjusting back to whatever this normal stuff is 
x
big love xx
lovely to see you again, the kindest soul and maybe the seaside will call us together someday – see you on the coastline
