Day 597: Bliss and Jellyfish

Blown. Away.

A weekend of learning and dancing and sitting and singing and beautiful music made by beautiful people and shared by other beautiful people. Am I gushing? Fuck it... it's only going to get worse.

I love all that communal stuff - the joy of cooking together and washing up; of hugging everyone a lot; of getting to do the things we all love to do. For example, I gave a few massages - shorter or longer, but given just the same. And other people all offering their thing - hands on healing, cranio-sacral, just chatting, making music, making people laugh. Such a glorious experience. And the people. Honestly, I could eat each and every one of them entirely up. I wouldn't even need seasoning.

Speaking of which, the food I ate this weekend... all of it made me either dance or cry, or both. A beany, vegetably stew, a sweet Moroccan mouth-party and a sweet potato mash veggie shepherd's pie... oh and the raw chocolate pudding, creamy, rich and velvet-smooth, and not even a dash of sugar. Just avocadoes (mashed beyond recognition, taste-wise as well as texturely), raw chocolate and honey. How can I be allowed such tasty bliss?

And after all the hugly goodbyes, the hugs continued in the world of outside. The train was so full on the way back that i plumped for the upgrade to first class. It wasn't expensive, actually, and it was a fine choice. As the lady said - today, it's worth ever penny. I had with me one bag big enough to hide a body and another smaller one, but still big. I didn't fancy forcing my way on with them. I honestly don't think I'd have made it. 

I sat with a delightful elderly lady, very willing and open and happy to talk, and a lovely young man (what am I, 85?). He started it, and within minutes we were all talking. He helped her off with her bag at Reading and we left the train together. Although we didn't know each other's names, we hugged goodbye. Twice, in fact. Once at the frontier of the tube, as I had to top up, and again at Kings Cross - we crossed paths again getting off the tube. His name (I asked) was Alistair. He is an occupational therapist and he's just come back from Devon where he was training as a pacemaker for his friend, who is about to do a 26-hour swim. He encountered four big, brown, flobbly jellyfish. He didn't like that. He got stage two hypothermia. He got bumped into by a shoal of mackerel. He didn't like that much either, but was pleased to be able to tell it. Not as pleased as me, though. What a great thing to say. 

And now, as if this whole weekend full of joy and genuine loveliness and new learning wasn't enough, I get a proper dose of That Victoria Sandison, who is passing through on her way a. to work and b. to Melbourne. Oh YES!  

PS - pictures to follow.