I smiled this morning as my guided meditation ended. The soothing voice was inviting me to imagine a layer of unconditional love, gently lowering, all over the earth. Covering every person and place and surrounding us all in the bright light of unconditional love.
In June 2008, I found myself at my first ever Glastonbury festival. I’d spent 2 months earlier that year in India and had met a woman who worked for one of the festival companies, Meegan. She said she could get me a job there. I was delighted! I’d had serious FOMO for many years watching the highlights on Channel 4. In particular 1997 where I’d lent a boyfriend my sleeping bag and he’d got to witness the muddiest year ever watching my beloved Radiohead.
So I jumped at the chance. I said ‘Yes’. I don’t know if I’d been to many festivals alone at that point, but I was independent, confident and open to life so I went alone, ready to work 4 shifts in the Enquiries cabins. These, I soon found out were little container boxes situated at the extremities of the site between the car parks and the entrance gates. My job while there was to check people who had any problems getting in, or getting back in if they’d chosen to leave for any reason. It was an interesting role to say the least.
I met my new work buddy, Zoë, just after our staff briefing on the Tuesday night. She’d also come alone and had missed most of the meeting so we took a walk and got to know each other while I filled her in. We met up with my contact on the inside and had a delicious chai up in Pacha Mama’s tent as we took in the awe and wonder of this incredible site before our eyes.
If you’ve never been to Glastonbury, it is BIG. HUGE in fact. It took us at least 40 minutes from wherever we were to get over to our cabin for work, and that was going at a fast pace of walking, sometimes even running.
So we spent the evening taking in the calm before the storm, talked about ourselves, what brought us here and we soon fell into our new stride of working together as good friends.
As the festival rolled on, we got to see and experience some amazing Glastonbury magic. Great music, great dancing, great conversations. Inspiring costumes, wonderful food, beautiful crafts and workshops. Energy healings of all kinds. Permaculture, grass, mud, tea parties, impromptu happenings and the delight of a hot tap for washing hands. Carrying my toothbrush in my bag for spontaneous freshening up moments (brushing your teeth when in a field for a week is practically a shower, right?)
It was noisy with bustle, and vibrant and loud. There were chaotic queues and crowded areas of confusion. There was activism and emotion and passion, pouring from the stages. There were bright lights and fire shows and mechanical robots with lasers. There was literally everything you might want to find. Quiet jazz concerts from a tiny living room, incredible piano recitals in a secret underground concert hall. There was buzz, there was life and there was magic.
And then one morning, very early, as the midsummer sun was rising, and most of the revellers had gone back to their tents, a very thick and low mist started to cover the site. It carried with it some light, drizzly rain and a soft dulling of sound that I experienced as truly quietening. A bit like snowfall, where the sounds become muted, softer, and subdued. I watched it falling from behind the stone circle area, slightly elevated on a hill. It felt like a loving blanket descending over the whole site, gently encouraging a bit of sleep, some well needed rest, and a whole load of peaceful quiet.
And that is where I returned to this morning during my meditation. The layer of unconditional love, so vast it was covering the whole planet. Over me, over my loved ones, over everyone.
I smiled so much at this beautiful image and happy memory.
So I’m extending this loving blanket to you today. Snuggle in as much as you need on this fine and dreary February morning.
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