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.