Sarah’s Journal

19 Oct

Posted at 19:31h in Sarah's Journal by

In these moist grey autumn days, it’s time to gather and store conkers to keep me going through the dark cold of winter. What are my resources, my harvest of nuts? Each morning begins with a skin brushing before peeling on thermals. A few minutes of extra moving, stretching or dancing before breakfast cranks up my sluggish circulation. I will walk, breathing in nature with dogs and crows. At the end of the day a salt-water foot soak and self-massage works with sofa hour. In the winter months of ‘Persephone time’ I will sew and make things. I will eat warm winter soups and ginger tea. I will allow time to read, to steep myself in the pile of unread books under the chair by the bookcase as the nights draw in. Regular trips to the sauna with my over 50’s discount card will be a luxury heat top-up. At the end of short days I will inch closer to a lover or snuggle up with a hot water bottle.

18 Oct

Posted at 21:44h in Sarah's Journal by

We returned to the beach of the Thames to mudlark for bones and shells. We scooped water close to the outlet of the River Fleet. We sat, sensing the slice of history resting in the sediment. Animal bones, and broken clay pipes nestle alongside drift wood and bottle tops. A cross section of time lies in the water. The intersection of culture and faith meets here too – the Globe, Tate Modern and St Paul’s. We trundled then with our loads back along Millbank re-walking the streets walked these last twelve days. Our pilgrimage ended back in Trafalgar Square where we landed to make an altar with our harvest for the closing ceremony. We the Grief Listeners brought a group intention of dropping into the land, of space holding, of pause and reflection. Through all the complexities, imperfections and words, we did our best to “remember our love for this beautiful planet that feeds, nourishes and sustains us.”*
*From Extinction Rebellion’s Solemn Intention Satement.

17 Oct

Posted at 21:21h in Sarah's Journal by

‘Amazing Grace’ is the moment. Written by former slave trader John Newton (‘who saved a wretch like me’), who then converted to Christianity and subsequently condemned slavery. Voices lift in harmonies, hands flutter up. We sit as insignificant flames in the dark. With a tendency to hypervigilance, I find the scene unsettling. The sound of helicopters competes with churning fountains. The row of fluorescent yellow jackets stand guard. Incense wafts, the bells of St Martin in the Fields toll eight. A giant papier maché curlew stands, wings swaying. I sit on the cold stone floor of Trafalgar Square “touching the earth and allowing the earth to be all of me,” in Brian’s words. The mic is passed between faiths. Buddhists, Christians, Muslims, Jews, other faiths and the agnostics. Some display their professions on placards to dispel the myth of the jobless and “unwashed” (which someone shouted at me this week). I smile at an ‘unco-operative crusty’ wearing their identity as ‘Compliance Analyst’. This feels like the moment to be here.

16 Oct

Posted at 17:34h in Sarah's Journal by

My few remaining relatives are spread wide. Instead I have a small chosen family. These are the individuals who encourage me, who will be there through thick and thin. These are the few who know me well enough to tolerate my peculiarities, and who I am willing to give time and energy to. These are also the ones who laugh at me, and help me to laugh at myself. Angus and I laugh too at the memory of his aged Scottish grandmother who asked on first meeting me, “Who are your people?” Now we say to one another in recognition, “I am one of your people.”

14 Oct

Posted at 22:23h in Sarah's Journal by

Mick and Tony walk together in a big circle from their first meeting in 1986. ‘Fascinating chap’ Tony wrote in his journal in Melbourne, Australia. Signs change from one to two walkers. Mick, Tony and I find conversational ‘snaps’ – eldership, podcasts, colonisation, land and place. As Mick describes it, we explore the “zeitgeist connectivity overlaps” in the lines that stretch across the earth between us. Making the shift from I to we, from singularity to synergy, global alliances happen. Artists, travellers, activists are coming together face-to-face and sharing ideas. Like the historical silk-road, London is a thriving centre of creative culture. Right now it is the centre of my Venn diagram. People from many different communities are gathering here and pollinating ideas to seed and grow when they return home.

13 Oct

Posted at 20:44h in Sarah's Journal by

On the beach at Rottingdean, my eye is drawn to one stone amongst many. I pick it up, notice the faint striations forming a star. It was once some kind of sea urchin. It has been rubbed smooth by the sea’s movement over aeons of time. We lie down on the beach to rest after a cycle of conscious connected breathing. The sea moves in and out with its own pattern of continuous ebb and flow. I lie on the beach holding this survivor of deep time in my hand while I slow down, listen to each wave of my breath moving through my resting body. My computer search suggests it may be a mid-creataceous period Toxaster, around 100 million years old.

12 Oct

Posted at 21:28h in Sarah's Journal by

The wild has almost been pampered out of Pickle ad Gigi. What remains is territorial barking when a parcel arrives and the chase in the wake of squirrel or fox scent. Gigi’s liberty to roam is temporarily lost post surgery. Her movement is restrained by a cone. Between trips to the vet for their wellbeing, we meander together on the marshes with a pram. The dogs spend the afternoons in soft warm places. There is a mutual bond of love and trust between us. Gigi uses her ‘please’ eyes to ask for cuddles, while Pickle demands treats with his persistent gaze. We all win oxytocin.

11 Oct

Posted at 19:17h in Sarah's Journal by

For the last thirty years, the British have been schooled in the art of festival culture. We have learned how to sustain ourselves despite the weather, to self-organise, to party, to de-centralise, to entertain, to collaborate and to communicate. This is a significant moment when the old established order meets the new paradigm head on. The new picks up the woolly thread spun in the 60’s, weaves it through the creative practices, spiritual teachings and digital expression we have experienced in recent counter culture and made it child-friendly. In this moment a child sits on top of the lion. This child is the future.

10 Oct

Posted at 22:51h in Sarah's Journal by

Under the eye of Nelson and the banner of Extinction Rebellion, Dr Emily Grossman comes to the stage in a white lab coat printed with the familiar hour glass logo. She packs a punch with a brief but clear presentation of current peer-reviewed climate science. Thousands of people – of all kinds including scientists – are taking to the streets to draw attention to the facts and predictions that people find it hard to hear, to really comprehend, and that governments fail to act on. Take the facts in, but hold them spaciously to allow room for the feelings they invoke. Let your feelings crack open your heart, but then reach out to connect through love.
www.facebook.com/ScientistsForExtinctionRebellion/

09 Oct

Posted at 22:47h in Sarah's Journal by

A pod of grievers meet at low tide at the edge of the Thames in earshot of St Paul’s. We make a circle from mud-larked bones and oyster shells. We are here to mark the death of the humpback whale marooned by hunger or disorientation in the estuary. A whale vertibrae the size of a child’s skull is passed round the circle. It is porous, white and lighter than I imagined. One by one we sing to the spirit of this whale, sing it home on a river of tears and gratitude. Hump backed whales mourn each other with song. I don’t find the words to express my sense of loss. I am dismayed by this example of the dislocation from right-relationship between place, food and the hierarchy of species in the natural world. This is a profound breach of natural order, an out of place death. How big a sign will it take before we recognise the extent of our selfishness?