Out onto the moor today. In the midst of all the busy-ness, the prospect of putting miles of moorland under my feet and acres of clear sky in my eyes gladdens my heart like the homecoming that it is, ‘though greater, when I’m out with the skylarks, the buzzards and the long grass. I’ll sing… Continue reading Tuesday, moor-day.
The snow’s almost all gone now. There’s a storm blowing outside and I’m worried about a tarp that’s protecting something precious and beautiful out there. Tomorrow, the 27th, it’ll be my birthday. I’ll be 40.
The Combe Haven Defenders need your help. Trees are being felled for the new road and there just aren’t enough people to stop it happening. They need more help. They are hoping to collect 1066 pledges for peaceful resistance to the road-building… As they write: Over a hundred local people have already signed a pledge… Continue reading Roads >> Combe Haven Defenders need your pledge of assistance NOW
In case you somehow hadn’t noticed, heavy shit is afoot. Worldwide, the continued ravenous exploitation of the land proceeds apace, largely unchallenged and almost universally unchecked. The increasing thirst for resources means that our civilisation is turning to more and more desperate measures to supply the goods. One such demand is for energy – without ∞
This, from Aeon online magazine, on the 12th of October, is absolutely brilliant. Great writing. Burning truths, unflinchingly told. Jay Griffiths writes here about shamanism, metaphor, artists, fools and the imbalance in our allegiance to the hemispheres of our brains. There is a clarion call in this writing to remember that realm of our own… Continue reading Jay Griffiths – Forests of the mind
This is a piece of my writing that appears in the latest Dark Mountain collection along with Sometimes a Wild God – I’m posting it here as a taster of what you can find in the book, which is being launched in Liverpool on Saturday 15th September. Do go along to the launch if you… Continue reading Nettle-Eater
I forget. I remember and forget and remember again. One day, When all the mystique of idiocy Has rubbed off life Like gold lacquer from oak, I’ll forget so wholeheartedly (Or remember so completely) That I will forget to not dance And remember my home Beyond memory and forgetting – the place where you are… Continue reading Milk and Stars