We packed the green van with quilts, sheepskins, beer, firewood, lanterns, strings of white lights, thick socks, candles and wellies. We rolled mattresses, found a fruit crate for a table and disappeared into a park of rolling hills and ancient forest. We were there to give – time, love, food, fire, kisses, music, energy. And to spank that dance floor.

With only ourselves to consider, we ate and drank when we felt like it – Manchego cheese and quince paste, apple juice, vodka, slices of warm pizza, dark sea salt chocolate, grapes, croissants, curry, fresh mint and darkly roasted coffee.

We found orange things to dress up in and danced through the nights.

Rain fell. The dance tents filled with water, hot bodies, mud and hay.

We floated from one space to another to find the right rhythm and each other. There were moments when we stood quite still in the middle of a heaving dance floor, feeling the music pulse through us and finding the beat of each other’s hearts.

It was so good to share that wonderfully wild weekend – fifteen of us for three days – a small family in a big, beautiful tribe. All there to celebrate, play, dance, expand, explore, give and receive; for camp fires, silliness, morning coffee, joy and communion.

Before the festival, we were sent an email that quoted Bede Griffiths:

“We become more ourselves as we enter more deeply into relationship with others. In our ordinary consciousness we are all separated in time and space, but as we go beyond the limitations of time and space we experience our oneness with others. We do not lose ourselves, but we lose our sense of separation and division and discover our integral oneness in the One Reality.  This is essentially a mystery of love”.

And the power of friendship, fire, privacy, trust, awesome tunes and the odd outstanding menu.


Posted by Louisa Thomsen Brits on 12 July 2012

How did you celebrate Midsummer?

It was an evening of high wind and rain in East Sussex.  Part of me wanted to follow the chalk path up to Firle Beacon to join the villagers brave enough to light a huge fire there despite the wet and cold; part of me wanted to be the kind of person who danced about in front of the flames to ward off evil spirits, gather healing herbs and call out for fertility and a good harvest. Actually, not the fertility – I’ve contributed more than adequately to the population explosion.

Part of me wanted to be in Denmark burning things on the beach, singing Midsummer hymns and sending witches to Bloksbjerg (Block Mountain).

But most of me wanted to wear thick socks and stay at home beside the fire my daughters had lit in the hearth. They made Victoria sponge cake with fresh cream and strawberries and bathed by candlelight.  My beautiful girls with big Pagan souls. Lucky, lucky me.


Posted by Louisa Thomsen Brits on 25 June 2012

I came across these photos yesterday.  Both from last year. Both taken on mornings of patchy sun and drizzle. Both of the beautiful mess we make when we allow time to unfold and let inspiration in.

We drank sloe gin with our bread and cheese and talked about painting weeds, hygge, hiding and learning to sit still.

We cut up apples and opened old notebooks and new parcels.

Happy weekend.


Beautiful mess
Posted by Louisa Thomsen Brits on 18 May 2012

I hung out of the bedroom window last night before closing the curtains. The garden has grown shadows and secrets under its new canopy of green. Sounds are more difficult to distinguish now but I could hear owls calling and the coarse, throaty cry of pheasants.

Inside the house, water was running for an evening bath, dull base sounded from upstairs, there were footsteps on the wooden floor boards, a dog whining in the kitchen below. I heard soft laughter from another bedroom, the hiss of a car on the wet lane and, close to me, my husband quietly turning the pages of his book.

Everything outside was growing, reaching up, beyond, through and around, looking for a place in the light. So many layers of living things.  Inside too.  Each one of us busy with our own precious life.  We weren’t together but we were connected, enjoying the same darkening evening, the same privilege of safety and the proximity of others.

hanging out
Posted by Louisa Thomsen Brits on 3 May 2012