When we arrived here yesterday there was a queue for wristbands and we both jumped it because the lady giving them out is a client of my friend who I’m here with.
Everywhere we go, people come up to speak to her. It’s noticeable and lovely to observe. She has built something. “It used to be like this when I went to the theatre,” she said, and I remember all those times trying not to mention we didn’t pay for tickets because we were in a papered house, seeing all the young actors we knew, gossiping. “He went up for this you know?” etc. My friend still acts but she’s working primarily in the wellness space, and people absolutely need this stuff at the moment. I’m just here as her assistant. And we are old festival friends.
I like the name Soul Revolution more than Soul Survivor. We have been putting up with stuff, surviving it, for long enough. Time to do something about it.
I went to alchemical clown school for a bit. Afa ran a workshop where we did silly and tried to remember how telling the truth and being exposed is the best bit of being silly and the better we do it the higher the chances we will actually honestly affect someone watching rather than just make them think we are cleverclogs. I need to write down the workshop before I forget cos there is much great wisdom there which I would like to channel when I do my random workshops wherever.
Later on I was trying to stay focused in a sound bath but knew I was just gonna fidget so I rolled out under the tent flap and went towards the sound of a tent full of people screaming. Turned out it was a grief circle. They were on the rage bit.
I’ve told you before that mum and I used to hold hands and scream when the fast train came through. God damn, screaming from rage is good sometimes. They really let us go for it, playing some bangers to help the process. Load of grown women and men howling together bodies involved but the space held brilliantly by two young women who then, when we were spent, went round and touched all of our feet while we cried like babies. A strangely tender experience. Writing it down it doesn’t feel like everyone’s shopping list, but sometimes mummy feeds us vegetables because they are GOOD FOR US.
I feel so much better for a good scream and then shouting tears into the grass. I needed that. Then sniffling with my eyes closed while my feet were gently held. I think we all can benefit from a sustained bout of howling and having our feet held. Perhaps you can do your howling when the fast train comes through. Or, and believe me this is one I use a lot, in your car on your own in the middle of a long drive. Just be sure to try to send the bad stuff sideways. I open a window. Don’t want to shout out out and then drive through it. If you haven’t got a car, don’t use an uber. I bet it would work in a sport stadium or a crowded pub watching the football… So long as you time it right the noises are equivalent. Where else is good to scream without breaking the social taboo on suddenly screaming for no apparent reason? Answers on a postcard.
I haven’t worn shoes all day. Didn’t take me long to go full hippy.
Evening shift beginning. We are going to find dancing. It’s nice to be at a festival and know I’m not about to go bananas. But there’s still sober raves. A bit of whooping now. My voice is tired.
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I found a hammock. I’m lying in it. I think these are elders?
Battery is becoming a precious resource. I left my plug at Lous so I might have to catch up on tomorrow’s unless I can find a workaround. Although I think I might just leave my phone in the tent all day.
I love these long long days.
AlBarclay 