Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Dancing for the Maypole

33 Dancing for the Maypole
Friday May 11, 2012:
So the shining flame that was my hope for a Labour victory in the GLA
elections is no more. The nastily benefits bashing Coalition Government will
be joined on its next onslaught against working people and the poor, by
Boris Johnson with his libertarian seemingly-harmless, jolly jovial
policies, every bit as evil as his Bellenden Club mate George Osborne's. IN
despair, I get on a train and head for the hills.
I sit by a fire in a quiet field and sing to the stars. Right now, I could
happily be a hippy doing this and forgetting about changing the world!
Two bail fires throw their warmth out into the chill clear night. Like
innocent cattle, I follow my companion round them. Between them stands the
three-human maypole in the middle. I reach out and touch a limb; a hand
comes out of nowhere and touches my wrist. I'm not sure if my touch is
approved or not, so in caution, I withdraw it, put my hand on my heart and

"Dance" says the maypole, "dance and let go, dance and receive."
"Oh, let the fire take these woes", I think, allowing the drums to seize my
body and take it to a new dance. I caper, putting my energy into my feet,
stamping on the soft wet grassy field. The ground sings back, more of a
soggy "umph" than a ""squelch" and I grunt back.
The ground feels water-logged. The sweetness of crushed grass rises up to
meet me. I breathe in the optimism of things growing towards the sun, even
if the sun is hidden right now.
"And is there sun behind the cloud for me?" I wonder, skipping between the
bail fires.
"o, if I could let go of pain and bring in freedom, if I could let go of
fear and bring in hope.
The fires crackle. High above in the darkening night, somewhere suspended on
the fading light, a blackbird sings to the crows. Other birds call across
the canopy of the darkening sky and I feel something shift inside me as I
dance with my companion.
The drums beat on. We dance... The sky skips around. The trees in the
field join in. We call out changes for the world. I call out "uplifting
singing" for you can't feel fear if you are singing.
We process back to the main fire. It's clear ahead. Birds still call their
night calls. True to intention, I indulge in a bit of uplifting singing and
soon, my heart feels lighter for it.
The fire is hot but my bum is cold. A metaphor for life perhaps? I don't
know. It's midnight, time to go to bed!


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