Arcadia: Wonderland

I am crying a little as I leave the festival. The grief and love I feel raining down inside me is only the first of many great waves of emotion that surge through me as the day passes. If I use the word connection, it is perhaps too mechanical a term to describe the union of natural forces combining inside me. If I prefer to speak of union, this reaches closer to the sense of brotherhood that I have experienced - to be in this place, at this time, with my brothers and sisters of the earth, means more to me than I could ever have expected.

A friend asked me if the festival exceeded my expectations. I replied that my expectations were shattered from the moment I arrived. The reality of Arcadia is far more than one can possibly conceive of without having experienced it firsthand. If I speak of community, one might be deceived by the common term to assume a common kind of experience, when the truth is, that experiences like these are so rare as to be nigh impossible to explain to an outsider. Yet, we who were there experienced in the sharing of common ground, a connection, union and community that does not exist outside of the festival.

I open my mouth wide and try to drink in the sky. I swallow the moonlight and never reach satiety. I find in myself the courage to risk my life in the quest for inner liberty, emotional honesty, psychological illumination, and, surrounded as I have been by such a community of experienced and sapient travellers, artists, dancers and musicians, I am held by them in the sanctity and safety of this temporary desert temple. I took the medicine. I was unsaddled completely by the power of the liquid sacrament. I fell. I threw up almost to the point of unconsciousness, heaving up more than a decade of unexpressed tension. Yet, lying there upon the dust, I called out for help, and it was given immediately, without judgement. I was watched over by the temple medic, I felt totally safe as I went through the immense transformation required in order to harmonise with the medicine.

In order to harmonise with myself, having spent so long in dissonance.

One cannot avoid looking deep into the ugly truth of oneself, and having made the choice to be open to this experience, I had only one choice. I had to open myself to the sky, to the sun, to the truth of my feelings, to the difficult and uncomfortable admission of guilt concerning my own failings, my own cowardice, aggression, ignorance and fear. Only then, having accepted the truth, was I able to release the accumulated bile of stress, anxiety and fear that have burdened me for years.

Then, the party could start.

I began by helping my fellow campers secure their tents as a strong afternoon breeze whipped tent pegs from the ground and loosened poles from their fixtures. I found my way forward through service, through humility, as I saw my own tent required similar attentions. I asked for help, and it was given, freely, enthusiastically. The remainder of the afternoon was weird for me, as I crested waves of intense revelations concerning my life and the place I have made for myself as a man with a family. These private ruminations, magnified intensely by the medicine, took on mythical proportions, and, having come to this festival alone, I found myself feeling intensely lonely as the sun began to set.

Then Dook arrived.

A lot can happen between friends over twenty years, and seated at the great dining table with Dook, Gabriel, Joel and Kate, I felt the power of our shared experiences fill my heart and soul and I cried out to them that I loved them all, that I was so grateful to be here with them, to feel the connection, the union, the community of our shared passions and we all raised our glasses in salute. In love with this moment, in love with one another, knowing that this fleeting moment will last forever.

I played games of Penta with Apoorva and Tricksy. I lost every single game, each defeat unique, each strategy finding a new way past my defences. Dook played chess with Apoorva, and we gathered around to watch, all of us thrilled, excited to witness the meeting of two great minds. Then Gabe returned, having adventured somewhere, and we played the longest, strangest game of Penta in all our years. I won, having rushed, swords flashing through bamboo groves, having smashed through doorways, thrust, parried, cut and run across the board until the footprints of our duel were muddy and confused and neither of us could read the story of our entanglement.

The conversations glow in my memory. Arcadia was a symposium, in the purest, most beautiful meaning of the word.

The wind whispered with the distant echo of Elusis.

How many days and nights we were there, I cannot guess. A whole season? It seems possible. I ate fruit, I read a book with my morning coffee, I breakfasted with my neighbours, took lunch at the great table, dined with all the denizens of Wonderland at the Mad Hatter's great table, then dressed for the evening in my best and brightest robes, masks, cloaks and coats. The festivities were an ever boiling pot of commotion, as fluidly we played the games of our lives, and saw the sun rise on a new day.

And on the last day, getting to play my music at Arcadia : what can I say?

We sat together at the centre of the universe.

If I speak of community, you know what I feel.

If I speak of connection

If I speak of union

We gave all this to each other. We danced to each other's music, we listened to each other's stories, we shared food and drink and medicine and the miracle of this Arcadian revelry was not lost on us.

My thanks go to you all.