Wandering festival was a sevenweek ago now. What remains in my mind?
In the sunshine we are sitting on this lush mountain with the ecophilosophers, and filled so to bursting full of ideas we long to just go out and explore. They finally stop talking and let us go. Some climb the steep mountain. I’m drawn towards a river of ice melt, running deep in the valley.
Barefoot over snow and warm moss I glance at the bubbling beck and wonder why in the world I drink anything else than this nectar water. I bend down, cupping my hand and it strikes me. Why not drink direct like a beast? As I lean closer and closer to the stream, the pebbles shine – sharpen and brighten, magnified and magnificent. Further and my lips touch the surface feeling its cool touch. I’m bowing down kissing the water. The kiss draws in the freshest drink the mountain has prepared for me. Why haven’t I done this before?
A slight air of the guru wafts round David Abram as was the case with Arne Naess. And like Arne we hope he will engage us in the serious work of play and exploration of the More Than Human World, and no-one wants to more than he. To leave our tedious superficial selves and sink into the fresh EAIrth. And we do.
The openers peeling back the stifling skin are many. David’s insistence is one. He sings the same song, reminding. You are not alone. Everything around you is talking to you. Everything above you is calling you everything beneath you perhaps sensing your every tread. So walking to this mountain farm I made up this song.
To the Mountain
Do I feel my footsteps on your skin?
Do I feel my soles upon your wet and stony skin?
If you are me and lying prone to catch my dancing steps,
Do I feel my footsteps on your skin?
Do you feel my footsteps on your skin?
Do you feel my step upon your wet and stony skin?
Do my soles a-tingle on your wet and grassy herbs?
Do you feel my footsteps on your skin?
Do you hear my calling in your breeze?
Do you hear me shouting through your wind?
Do you hear my song which echoes in your rocky ears?
Do you hear me singing through your air?
Do I hear you calling in the rustle of your leaves?
Do I feel your breeze speak to my skin?
Do I hear your waterfall a-fossing in the wind?
As you call me to your vast and airy mind?
One of our hosts was Gjermund. Tall, almost gaunt but radiating action and connection. This valley is not on the way to anywhere now but in former times was a thoroughfare, where cattle, sheep and goats were driven many months march from the Oslo area. The rich soil means that animals are still brought up here for the short season. And Gjermund brings people here, many, over the year. What draws them? Nature and stories of the OUTLAW.
As we encourage one another to step outside the narrow confines of the Only Human World, I remember the old nursery rhyme:
Boys and girls come out to play
The moon doth shine as bright as day!
Leave your supper and leave your sleep
and join your playfellows in the street.
legendhunting 