The morning was a walk from Santoña to Noja, first along the beach at Berria, there was then a choice twixt going over the headland, else, tediously, along the road the guidebook/camino forum insisted: ‘Under No Circumstances ever go over the headland if it’s been raining, it’s muddy, treacherous and slip slimy, tho you might be alright if you have poles!’ Or words to that effect Not having any poles, nor being one to heed good advice, I attempted it anyway… BIG MISTAKE… it was alright getting up to the top, view of the pristine beaches either side was glorious but proceeded to stumble and tumble all the way back down again, hairy, each time I slipped I tried to grab onto any vegetation, even the merest strand of grass to steady myself… everything was a variety of thorn or gorse, ripped to shreds by the undergrowth! Finally made it down in a muddy heap, but was then a blissful 3km stretch of almost empty sandy beach. The sea swashing backwards and forth across the lip gloss sands, huge swathes of storm clouds looming on the horizon absolutely lush, shoes and socks off, i paddled along very very happily
I had a beautiful couple of days based in Santoña, a town surrounded by the sea, wild and rugged… It’s like Cornwall on steroids.
Trekked to the Faro de Caballo , gallumphing down 763 steep steps to the lighthouse at the end of the headland, there at the bottom of a cliff meeting a couple of potty locals and going for a swim with them, jumping into the churning swell of the Ocean. We all cheered at each others audacious leaps.
Giant slugs on the footpath, they LOVED the rainy weather. Wild goats, a huge impressive sweep of horns, 3 of them came around the path, of course I went to photograph them, but, as usual, pressed the button to turn off my phone, rather than take the snap, I will never make a nature photographer
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! 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
