a revolution disguised

On my last evening in Wales, two other friends I met thru witchcamp came over to dinner at Susan’s. Isobel has been both heart and backbone of a collective organic farm community for many years, and she bought along her youngest of three children, a babe in arms who radiated calm good will, bearing a Welsh name that’s slid right off my memory bank. Sid, once a journalist, tried living at the farm, but the moistness and mildew brought on a near death experience of pneumonia, and he now runs a record shop in the nearby town. The evening was delightful, and much of the talk, as it can do in these times, ran down the course of what preparations need to be made for oil running out. Armageddon/Apocalypse or The Great Turning, the two ideas seem almost interchangeable in conversations I’ve recently been part or privy to. I’m noticing a shift slightly towards The Great Turning, a time of tumultuous change, which results in a more sustainable way of living….and I find myself breathing into this vision/version, and noticing just how many people I meet are feasibly part of bringing this into being.

Perhaps it’s something about Wales, or perhaps it’s something to do with those who’ve moved out of metropolitan areas, who live closer to their food and sustenance, but I was struck by my friend’s balanced blend of practicality and mysticism. Sturdy, pragmatic visionaries, all of them! If I come here again, I will surely visit the farm and the record shop, both vividly described by Isobel and Sid. Isobel’s farm is a magnet for idealistic folks, and we laughed heartily at the stories of how much of the time it is the rigid idealists who can’t hack the complexities and contradictions of the daily life of farming and the vexing nature of people living in community. Sid’s stories of the record store had me completely entranced, as it sounds as much a vortex of magic as anything else, where musicians jam together, the art and craft of friends are displayed, and where he furthers the work of the environmental group he is part of. In making enough to live on, Sid does so much more, creating a space which fosters community and goodwill.

Sid told a story of traveling to London, deeply inspired by the arrest of some people in Parliament Square who were simply reading off the names of those killed in Iraq. He went, hell bent on getting arrested himself by making a public statement about his opposition to the war. He read names of the dead and was ignored, tried to talk to the man who’s been camped out there for over a year and was roundly verbally abused, and Sid came away somewhat stunned by his complete inability to get either arrested or acknowledged. As he told the story, I found myself smiling broadly, tickled completely at the wisdom of the fates that led Sid right back to his record shop. Isobel calls it “a revolution disguised as a record shop”, and how right she is! These are the kinds of revolutions that I love seeing tended and fermented. Although they don’t make the headline news, they are slowly and deliberately creating a great turning, one which just may, if we are lucky, create a future worth living in.

Today I left Wales, and already I miss the persistant and pervasive image of the red dragon. From now on, when I see it, it will symbolize pragmatic visions, the magic of the mundane, as well as the mystery of the red blood of life, an association which those in the Reclaiming community have worked with for years. Long live the Red Dragon!