Somehow,in the wee hours of the morning on 21st June I found myself dancing in the centre of Stonehenge. Dancing to drums and didgeredoos, even though I could barely move for the squash of people, looking up every so often at the immensity of the stones as if to remind myself where I actually was.
I’m no druid. I didn’t go for the stones or the ley-lines. I went for the people and the atmosphere, and I went thanks to massage(following passion?) since it was a case study who mentioned she was going and asked me along. I went because I’ve gotten into the habit now of marking out the solstices and this seemed like the perfect way. Some people might call it hedonism, but for me life, passion and people IS my religion.. and as we joined thousands of others trekking past the police gates and winding the mile or so from the car park(field) to the stones, I was struck by the sheer folly and brilliance of People. I felt a bit like Dr.Who in his “aren’t humans great- c’mere for a hug” mode. The way we were all gathering at a pile of stones in the middle of the countryside, not to see a gig or a football match, but just because. All ages of people, from all parts of the country. To watch a sunrise which was unlikely to appear through the black cloud covering almost the entire sky..all except for a hopeful sliver on the horizon.
I went without expectations, and I went feeling somewhat lost and empty; but in the centre of that circle I pulled together all the fragments and realised just how far I’ve come..