sea henge

http://easyweb.easynet.co.uk/aburnham/eng/seahenge.htm

55 oak timber posts completely encircling an upturned oak tree felled in full spring bloom. Found on the Norfolk seashore, at a place which was previously a salt marsh.

Tikal

When I was 20, I went to Guatemala with my best friend to explore Mayan ruins. We visited Tikal, the largest ruined city of that civilization, deep in the rainforest in the northeast of the country. At that time in my life I travelled lightly with little baggage and no preconceptions.

It was a monumental hike through miles of sweltering jungle to reach the city complex. A single day at this incredible place did not seem enough, so we thought it would be fun to stay overnight in the forest and sleep on top of one of the huge temples. We brought an extra flask of water, and maybe a head torch, but I think that was all.

At closing time, rather than leaving the park with all the other visitors, we hid quietly amongst the trees and waited until the warden had passed us on his check. Then we shared a vial of guarana and honey, and clambered silently up one of the less-visited temples. It was an intense climb up a crumbling precipitous staircase and over gnarled vines, with my heart in my mouth and adrenalin coursing through my body.

When we got to the top of the temple the sun was setting over the rainforest. The sky was huge and our eyes had to adjust after a day amongst the trees. We were high above the forest canopy looking down on treetops. I felt like a god. As the twilight deepened, the howler monkeys began to sing. Their cried conversations swirled below us, mingling with those of the toucans and the roar of a lonely jaguar.

We smoked Mexican grass and ate tiny crumbled biscuits from the bottoms of our pockets. We looked and listened for hours. The stars came out. It was glorious, wild, primitive. My dreams as I slept up on that platform were intense.

I give thanks for that adventure.

tree dream

Tree dream

September 15^th 2008

I dream of a huge barn, wooden, in a large dusty yard. Two sides have no walls and open directly onto the yard. The third side is walled, with a doorway in it. This leads to a flight of stairs up to a higher level: the only way out. The fourth side of the barn also has a wall, which has provisions and folding beds stacked up against it. This barn is actually a bunker, a nuclear shelter in case of a devastating emergency.

There are 167 chair-beds here: space for 167 souls. There is food, water and provisions. The spaces here are desperately sought after. There is competition. If the lucky chosen ones transgress any of the rules of the barn, they are killed on the spot by armed guards. To keep one’s place here one must give up basic freedoms.

In the yard, which is surrounded by high walls, there is a huge pile of felled trees. They have been stripped of their bark and they lie glistening like meat. The hugest trunk is lying on the very top of the pile. It is monstrously large and it is kept in place, propped horizontal, by tiny twigs. At any moment the twigs are bound to snap and the trunk to roll down taking the whole pile with it in an avalanche of moist red wood.

I am standing on top of the pile, on this hugest trunk propped up by twigs. I am looking over at the bunker-barn, as though I am a prisoner up against the fence looking back at a prison house. The sun is hot and blinding. There is no shade in the yard but I can see trees beyond.

Beyond the perimeter of the yard, people do not have bunkers or stockpiled provisions. There is scarcity, and fear of starvation. I am scared of starving. I am scared of being shot by robbers. So are the other 166 people in the bunker. That is why we have surrendered our freedoms. But I am very high up here on this woodpile by the fence. If I move very precisely perhaps I can make it up onto the wall. I stand, transfixed, appalled and held by the bleeding wood.