Findhorn

Had a wonderful, bittersweet weekend away at the Findhorn Bay Festival.  Sublime concert by ‘The Allt Project’ on Saturday evening.  Music to melt your pride.  Bizarre and beguiling musical theatre ‘The Sailmaker’s Palm’ by ‘Oceanallover’ on Sunday afternoon, and some beautiful pier-side-theatre, ‘Miss Mary’, who got us all up dancing, then left us to it.  Stayed at Cullerne House, overlooking Cullerne Garden, which, full of memories of love, resentment, grief and awakenings, seems full of Yax.  So peaceful, so pitch black at night, so scented by the pines.  Slept deeply.  Remembering it all.  Am feeling tender.  And that’s okay.  Been ages since I stayed at Findhorn for a weekend.  Living close enough to get there and back in an afternoon, and I realise, avoiding memories, have not stayed in a long time.  It was a good thing to stand still, face the music, let other music in, reach compassion, for my younger self, at least. 

On the Sunday, crossing my path like bad luck in a tartan coat, a nightmare person, who may have changed, but I wasn’t willing to find out.  The best I can say of her is that she is one of Life’s users.  Don’t want anything to do with her, and can summon no compassion for her.  Simple truth.  Feels rude in the moment, when they do that narc victim-martyr, ‘poor me’ head tilt, as if they had never hurt or disparaged you.  That’s the moment to leave.  Walk away.  Into the wild winds, carrying the scent of the sea, the sounds of 38,000 pink footed geese over-wintering in Findhorn Bay.  Because, although I realised I’ve let myself become too lonely again, I’ll never be so lonely as to entertain her company for another second.

That’s 76,000 pink feet.  How annoying if they lost count halfway. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ExEMqhjVyso

https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v44/n18/michael-longley/three-poems     

https://oceanallover.bandcamp.com/album/the-sailmakers-palm