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.
