These are busy days. I don’t think I’ve ever had less time to myself, to write and walk and wonder at it all. It’s not all bad, this busy-ness, though, not by any means.
Weird and Wonderful Wood is a highlight of the year. We catch up with old friends (including one who I hadn’t seen for over 20 years, which pretty much blew my socks off to begin with), we sell Rima’s artwork (and my masks, when I have them, which I don’t at the moment, which irks me) and – as it’s the first fair of our year – we are reminded viscerally of why we love life on the road. We heft our very beautiful, but mighty heavy ex-NATO bell tent and our (less heavy, but still beautiful) stall; we cook breakfast on the woodburner; at night, we play music (Rima’s better at this than me – I skulk around the edges like a teenager while she plays beautifully and with fire-circle gusto) and we marvel at the good folk that abound.
Sometimes, people bring us things. This year, we got given herbs and eggs and a lovely little painting, and a book. This last was a copy of ‘Traveler’s Joy’ by Juliette de Baïracli Levy, given to Rima by the headmaster of a local school.
It’s a wonderful book – and I urge you to seek out the writings of this kind, wise herbal pioneer – but it led us on to watching the following film last night, which is what I really want to share with you. It’s about an hour long and is really quite astonishing. Somewhere in my mind, there’s a library of documentaries that I’m building, educations in magic and wonder and reminders of the extraordinary potency of being alive. This is in the library.
I could – and perhaps should – leave it there.
But, I watched another film yesterday, too, while avoiding writing about Postpositivism and PTSD (sadly, I’m not joking.) You’ve probably seen it already, but if you haven’t, it’s a 30-minute distillation of Peak Oil and the problems of growth, well worth watching. I don’t know which order you should watch these in. Perhaps it depends on where you’re already at. Or how you want to juggle the enchantment and the grieving. You’re old enough to figure it out by now, after all, aren’t you?