Last week I took a week off. From work. From my day to day. From my usual "normality". And it was utterly marvellous. What's been most fascinating about it has been quite how much has emerged from what was "just" 10 days away.
The main focus of the holiday was to go "WWOOFing" at a community in Shropshire. As chance would have it they were having their annual mini-festival the weekend I was due to be arriving so I ended up partaking in that. In many ways it was pretty tough turning up not knowing anyone, while also knowing in amongst the people in the field were folk who actually lived there full time. However, in a rather "worlds colliding" way I'd contacted a local couchsurfer when I was looking at different options for accommodation on Saturday night - and she had already been invited to the party, so she and her boyfriend were kind enough to meet me on arrival and introduce me to a bunch of people. Not only that, turns out she'd just processed my booking for a permaculture course in October. Genius.
But the party / festival was very much an aside. The real gold was in the gardening I got to do. Monday to Friday I spent most of the days out in the gardens, weeding, picking soft fruits (I barely even made a dent - there was SO MUCH!), doing oddments of pruning to clear pathways that had become very overgrown by abundant vegetative growth and a little bit of clearing and shifting of stuff. I got stung by nettles, scratched by brambles, thistled by thistles and bitten by beasties (including a particularly avid bitey ant) and it was utterly wonderful. I even got my first blood blister while being overly zealous with a chunk of wood I was splitting with the magical log splitter (which attaches to a tractor for power) - which is providing to be a rather entertaining addition to my hands, mainly because I keep thinking I've got one nail with nail varnish on.
And did I mention a lot of this I got to do in a genuine walled garden? I was (and still am) so in love with that particular part of the grounds, more than anywhere else. There's something magical about walled gardens.
In and of itself the gardening was brilliant, but there being a community of 12 adults + 6 children (plus visitors minus members who were away) around and about both in the gardens and in the house, as well as to share dinner with (which was always brilliant and sharing a meal with up to 20 others is ace) and often other meals just added so much. It's all well and good doing stuff, but it's the people who really make it or break it.
Until now I'd been very hesitant of community living and yet I was suitably impressed - and enamoured - of how functional this particular community was. Of course, it any group there will be highs and lows but my nightmare scenario of it all being lows just didn't appear. So that was quite an eye opener too.
Overall, the whole week felt like I'd dropped into a parallel universe. And a universe I REALLY enjoyed being in. I completely lost myself in the gardening, slowing down, calming my mind (without trying to, just as a product of being focused on something so, literally, earthy) and just enjoying it. But the most fascinating thing about this parallel universe is that, quite simply, it exists. Speaking to people while I was there (visitors and members) reminded me of all the different ways of living there are. Reminding me that although I live in a certain way, it certainly isn't the only way for humanity, and it's also now the only way for me.
Needless to say there's plenty of food for thought in that thar sentence alone.
There's also a sense of "Oh, and another thing..." about this mere 10 days I spent away from "normal life". And yet those "other things" feel like they're waiting for another blog post at another time. So wait they shall - as I wander home across the sands of the wonderous, fabulous Morecambe bay.*
*In case anyone's jumped to the wrong conclusion, I'm talking about the bit of "enclosed" sand which is exposed between the Stone Jetty and the Battery. I haven't taken to cross-bay walks on my own, or, indeed, in company!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment