Camp life unfolded with a strange and unremitting momentum. I was constantly obsessed by the final instruction given to me at Chandratal: find the Centre. I had found the crystal centre, but I realised that nothing had changed after the discovery of that so-called spiritual secret. My feelings told me that I hadn't found the natural conclusion of the Crystal Journey. I was now fairly convinced that the centre in question was my heart-centre, or the centre of my energy-body. Whatever it was, I intuited that the only real way I could find it was to delve deeper and deeper into the human kingdom.

For I knew now one of the fundamental sacred laws: one's experiences in everyday life reflect one's innermost beingness. My deepest wounds, pain and joys lay in my essential human self. It was in this world that I would find the experiences and healing necessary for my transformation into a full human being. And in the process, hopefully I might find that enigmatic Centre.

With this realisation came a deep sadness, for I knew that, in this lifetime at least, I wouldn't find my goal. I was far too damaged for that. Enlightenment seemed so far away! The Crystal Journey would not realise true completion for probably many lifetimes, if ever. On the other hand I was fully committed to my course and wouldn't cease, couldn't cease, until I had fulfilled my task.

So. The human stage was set, and all I had to do was act. But how? And assuming what character? Well, I just had to trust that I would eventually find that out. Until then, I moved through the joys and pains of my very intense life with as much hope and optimism as I could muster. All I knew was that my existence on planet Earth constituted a series of learning experiences on the path of self-discovery.

After leaving Nanteos, our ragged convoy snaked down to the Presceli mountains in S.W. Wales where we spent the next month putting on two more camps, back-to-back. It was a magical, refreshing time for me as I broke free from my conditioned lifestyle in company with other similar souls. It was a journey comparable to those renegades from my parent's generation who had succeeded in their dream to break free of conventional living and had 'joined the circus. In the process I got more involved with the site logistics, gaining proficiency in erecting structures, planning the site, and running it.

During the Presceli camps I found my next (human) spiritual teacher, a very dynamic and mysterious man called Dan. He was practiced in Native American knowledge and was very inspiring. I had originally seen him at the first Oak Dragon camp at Beltane, although, at that time, I hadn't been all that impressed. As a human, he was sometimes quite insecure and he liked to spend time with January and me. As a shaman, he had a naturalness and flair that was both mischievous and profound. He introduced us to the Medicine Wheel and its practical application in daily life. He was going to lead a five-day workshop over Christmas and we were inspired to attend. A few others on the camp decided likewise and we all looked forward to meeting again in very different circumstances.

In September the camps completed, the equipment was unloaded and stored, and we were free to follow our own stars for a few months. That first winter January and I travelled all over the west country in the black truck. Now that the camps were over, we found ourselves together twenty-four hours a day, and it was quite a task to work out a practical way of relating to each other in the new circumstances. It was a crammer course in loving relationships and communicating from the heart, while living on top of one another in a tin can!

We did remarkably well, but I wondered if I could manage another winter cooped up in the same small space for so long. In other ways it was very idyllic to travel from spot to spot on the landscape in our mobile home, and it was very romantic to drive into the unknown on a continually unfolding adventure with my lover.

And then it was time to attend the Medicine Wheel workshop with Dan and we turned up at a beautiful house and cottage in the woods near Haselmere, a small country town in Surrey. We settled in with fifteen or so camp-scene friends, to explore the hidden sides of life over Christmas.

It was a lovely celebration and Dan introduced us gently to the teachings of the Native Americans. I felt an immediate affinity to their ways of perceiving life, and I felt a thrill at a very deep level. I had found a tool and way of experiencing life that would be with me from that time on. I knew it would enrich my life in myriad ways. Some experiences, not so gentle, stand out particularly when I cast my mind back to this first Medicine Wheel workshop.

I am sitting on the bed in the truck with an aggressive Dan in front of me. He repeatedly, forcefully, asks me who I am. To start with I know, but cannot put it into words. I have no reply, for the name I was given at birth is only a name. It is not who I am. The name I am called at this moment in time is also just a name. He is channelling some pretty heavy stuff and I am powerless, mindless. I am scared. It is a terrible realisation to find out that, under pressure, I lose my centre so much that I don't even know my name! Finally he goes away and I wander off to find myself.

Again:

The ritual is intended to fuse the male and female energies into union. Dan pours paraffin into the trench and tries to set it alight. No good, it won't ignite. January and I have a gallon of petrol in the truck, and I walk up the driveway to fetch it. On returning, I see there are nightlights burning in the trench but think nothing of it. I start to pour the petrol into this eternal symbol depicting man and woman, and some of the volatile liquid hits a candle. There is a muffled explosion and I find myself bathed in flame.

Everything assumes slow-motion. I swim in a sea of fire. There is fire above, below, and all around me. A column of fire is whooshing out of the petrol-can like a flame-thrower and it seems as if the world is on fire. How long have I got before the whole lot simply explodes? I see glimpses of the surrounding scene through the flames, and know that I need to get rid of the can as soon as possible but not here in the middle of all the structures. I swing back my arm in readiness to throw, and see an open spot between the dome and the sweat lodge. There should be enough space for an explosion there without the risk of too much damage...

My arm whips forward and, aiming as it moves, lets go. The can, looking like a rocket tumbling out of control through the atmosphere, hits the ground and explodes upwards. Unfortunately a small tree gets burnt, but luckily it has been raining and there is no risk of the fire spreading. No structure is damaged. I inspect myself. I am not even singed.

Later, January describes the situation from her perspective: I simply disappeared into a huge sheet of yellow-orange flame. And, I have to admit, I did.

And:

The workshop lasted six days and in the main it was a joyful affair. All who attended were colleagues and friends, and we enjoyed each others' company. We learned lots and shared a great deal of fun. I was relatively new to all of this so I didn't retain much of the intellectual teaching, but its essence touched me deeply. All I knew at that time was that something fundamental had changed for me by meeting Dan, and by my exposure to the teachings of the Medicine Wheel.

After an interesting New Year at Ferngrove, it was time for our second encounter with Dan. We trucked down into Dorset on our way to Springhead, a wonderful residential workshop centre in a village called Fontmell Magna. After negotiating the truck into the car park, we wandered around the grounds with delight. The central feature there was a crystal-clear lake fed by seven bubbling springs. Weeping willows and rare trees trailed golden-green tresses into the water, and birdsong filled the air. The building we were to use was directly by the water's edge, and the overflow from the lake crashed underneath the communal living-room in a continual roar. The longer I was there, the more I surrendered to the noise. After a while, it seemed to me to sound like a huge choir which sang incessant praises to Life in all its glory. I started to call it the Eternal Choir.

We started our study. The Native Americans are a particularly earthy people, so the practical teaching strongly outweighed the theory. Although there are many different tribes or 'Nations', they share in general a common way of perceiving the world. We learnt that these very wise people related to themselves, each other and to the planet in terms of 'circles', rather than in our so-called civilised way of straight lines.

For instance, time for them is cyclical. They operate a lunar calendar where each 'moon' has a different quality depending on its position in the year. Each year has a different meaning in a person's life as we spiral progressively through space and time.

The circle is particularly sacred to them as it represents wholeness, totality, the universe. This is another fundamental difference between our cultures: the western view of the zero, or circle, is nothing, or nil. The Native American experience is that the Zero, the Great Void or Great Mystery, contains and gives birth to everything known, unknown, and unknowable.

The Zero Chiefs were (and are) wise people committed to finding out the secrets of Time and Space in an experiential way. Many thousands of years ago they discovered the qualities of the zero which expanded human awareness with profound results. Finally, the mysteries of the Eternal could be comprehended.

All theoretical constructs had very practical applications. For instance, the Medicine Wheel of Balance is called the Circle Of Law. By exteriorising this Wheel, the Zero Chiefs created a most powerful system of law and administration. In fact, the Circle of Law became the first democratic system of self government among humans. The main principle of this system is that when the Community itself becomes its own ruling body, it will find its own Balance.

An important consequence of Balance for the Zero Chiefs is that women are equal to men, and that all women and men are born free. Other fundamental Laws of the Medicine Way are that:

All power comes from Woman, or the Feminine;

The Earth must be honoured;

Do not harm the children.

In a circle everyone can see into each others' eyes: nothing can be hidden. Everyone is equal under the sun, everyone has a contribution to the health and meaning of the whole. Life itself is a circle, which spirals through time and space carrying everything with it. All things must pass, eventually, and take on other forms. For instance, "Kingdoms" of nature are a completely foreign concept for these people, for the word 'Kingdom' assumes a hierarchy where some members are more important than others. They see every tiny part of what we call 'life on Earth' as essential for every other part, each individual eventually 'giving away' (dying and providing nourishment for others) for the good of the whole.

Conflicts and difficult decisions are dealt with in an incredible way by using the power of the circle. All interested parties attend the communal space and do purification ceremonies to prepare themselves. Then everyone concerned starts vocalising their individual views into the centre of the circle using the talking stick. For however long it takes, the stick circumscribes the circle and the views expounded seem to become less and less diverse. Eventually, sometimes over a period of days, a consensus is reached without anyone appearing to 'about-face', or seeming to betray their original opinion.

At Dan's gatherings we learnt to create human circles of differing configurations: we worked with the dynamics set up by both the geometrical shape we chose to sit in, and the magical intent of that particular Wheel. There are hundreds of different 'Medicine Wheels' used by the Native Americans depending on their shape, and the number of stations on their circumference. Dan introduced us to a number of commonly used ceremonial wheels and we explored their workings.

The Medicine Wheel is the shape of the zero. It represents the Great Creatress Mother, and from Her everything is created. In the instant of Creation, the Creator Father was born, and he divides the zero into parts, into numbers. The zero is whole, containing Everything including male and female qualities and is perfectly balanced.

Pow-wow was the exoteric, or open and rational teaching concerning the Medicine Wheel given to us at the camps. We now worked with the esoteric, or 'hidden' and secret side of circles.

Our typical day was to meet in the morning for sharing, where we practiced communicating our truth and true feelings with one another in a sacred space. We also received some theoretical teaching and instruction. Afternoons were left free so that we could roam the beautiful countryside either alone or as a group.

The exoteric, so-called 'normal' state of reality is called the 'Tonal'. The Tonal (Toe-nahl) rules the everyday world of reason and logic, of daylight and commonsense. Everything that has a name exists in the realms of the Tonal. I couldn't wait until the evenings came around, for we then explored the spirit worlds, the Unknown, where power lurks. Dan showed us practical ways of contacting this most elusive of states, and I loved the opportunity to experience it on a regular, safe basis. The North American Indians describe this state as the 'Nagual', which is often mistranslated as 'spirit animal' or suchlike.

The Nagual (Na-hual) rules the darkness, the unseen, the impossible, and miracles. Things simply 'happen' here without obvious causes. This state cannot be talked about for it is experiential and effects the energy bodies rather than the rational minds of those present. In a Nagual circle, the content of what is spoken is purely to attract Spirit because the Nagual moves through the medium of Silence.

How I loved those evenings, sitting in a circle with a dozen friends in front of the roaring fire, flames flickering around the undulating walls, in silence. Or should I say the Silence, for very real entities hovered around us, inviting us to surrender to the moment and allow them access to the world. The atmosphere would be thick and pregnant with possibility and I felt like a crew member on a starship cruising through other universes on a voyage of discovery.

Dan used to make us sit in different patterns on the floor, sometimes in concentric rings, as each form creates a different vibration and effect. Depending on the state of consciousness we wanted to create and work with, or the world we wanted to explore, we would sit in a particular configuration and Dan would utter the words of power necessary to bring it all to life. A little like turning the key in a lock, or starting a car. The Native Americans had discovered this way of working, and became experts in its use. The Silence, denied so much in the world today, just loved us and showed us all miracles. Everyone experienced transformed states at one time or another and changed irrevocably.

Possibly the greatest gift Dan gave me was the Cherokee 'Dance of Life'. This particular Indian tribe, or 'nation', had seen the white man approaching, and knew its time was at an end. The elders met and discussed ways of collecting their wisdom teachings, simplifying them, and hiding them so that they would survive the expected genocide. They created a dance coupled with a chant that encapsulated their sacred Medicine. In this innocent way their teachings have survived and are now even spreading around the world. Dan taught us this dance, and I was immediately inspired. I have been dancing it regularly since, both alone and in groups, and it works on many different levels.

On an immediate level, it 'balances one's shields', or connects the dancer with his or her centre by harmonising the six directions, or elements. It generates so much energy that the dancer is fully envigorated by the time it ends. On deeper levels, it is designed to reveal the sacred teachings of the Cherokee, which are no more than an expression of natural sacred law.

The more one surrenders to the dance and explores it with an unbending spirit of enquiry, the more the teachings are revealed. These secrets are experienced on a bodily level which by-passes the brain, and they result in an increased level of energy and capability to deal with life as it unfolds. From practicing Dan's original teachings on a regular basis, other developments and understandings have come to me, and I use them for myself or with groups that want to go deeper into the realms of the spirit. And deeper and deeper it goes.

In the mornings, I had a lovely routine. I would get up at dawn and drink a cup of tea. I would then walk down to the lake and immerse myself in its crystal waters, alert to the miracles that occur at sunrise. Delicate tendrils of steam would be rising off the water like white, whispy wraiths. Large languid fish would rise from the depths, creating rippling spirals on its mirror surface. When the sun rises over the horizon, Spirit is present and everything is possible. In such a space of beauty, my spirit soared like an eagle, rising to dance with its lover the sun.

Then I would return to the kitchen, warm myself and meet the other early risers. After another cuppa we would troop out and form a circle near the Gingko tree. We would then perform the Dance of Life together, praising the solar disc as it rose over the hills to the south-east. Our shadows would be cast into the water as if they were being cleansed and renewed, and we were filled with gratitude for the gifts that life showered so freely upon us.

Towards the end of the gathering Dan performed a 'give-away', where he placed some of his magical possessions on a sheet on the floor, and invited us to take what we felt we needed to accept. There was a sudden scramble to get the best things. I felt a little disgusted by this behaviour and I waited to see what was left over. Finally there was space, and I saw a pile of printed paper and a couple of dried blue corncobs. I picked up the papers and to my delight saw they were Native American dances and chants! I found out later that the corn is sacred to the Hopi Indians and other tribes in America. I reckoned I had found treasure.

My emotional body was awakening at this time, and from time to time stretched its limbs in an attempt to explore its field of influence. Consequently at this time I experienced some strange states that affected me very deeply, and the increased levels of energy at these medicine meetings heightened them. Although I was in the main quite centred, I would from time to time lose my sense of 'self' and experience the most painful feelings of separateness. Whatever I would try to do to alleviate the condition would have no effect, and I would find myself in a world of loneliness and alienation.

I would experienced my reality as I would a cinema show: I could see and hear what was going on around me but it was as if it were a ghost performance. I was separate as if it were happening on another planet. I would feel crushed and desolate, and split into two separate parts. Half of me wanted desperately to try to rejoin the others but I knew that, however hard I tried, I would feel disruptive, nasty and totally 'out of tune' with them.

The other half of me just wanted to run off, hiding and huddling in its misery until everything righted itself. I would invariably be caught in the middle. This state of affairs had been around most of my life but now it was coming up into my consciousness increasingly often. It was as if different parts of my psyche, formerly lost or forcefully discarded, were returning home. They were bringing with them all of the feeling states associated with their earlier rejection and denial and it was very difficult to welcome them home again. I had the optimistic yet frightening realisation that the whole caboodle was now ready to be dealt with.

For the same reason, anger was arising thick and fast into my everyday life. Dan was helping me to access extra life-force, and as a consequence my emotional body was sparking and discharging all over the place! One morning January and I were walking in the gardens, and we decided to explore a small hut that nestled in the trees. I was in a pretty good mood, and when we entered we realised it was being used by the resident community as a meditation space. Then something happened. I cannot remember exactly what it was, but January said something which I felt to be very insensitive and dishonourable.

I felt anger ignite in my belly, and instead of suppressing it, allowed it the freedom to be. Triggered by what was probably a minor provocation if looked at objectively, I abreacted. I ignored my 'safe' habit of sitting on my anger and of swallowing my rage. Caught in a torrent of fiery emotion, I roared and directed my wrath towards my lover. If I could have killed with my expression, I would have. The fire shot upwards to my throat and, for the first time ever, encountered no blockage or restriction. It leapt from my lips and launched itself towards January who stumbled and nearly fell as a consequence. I was even more surprised than her!

My anger came to life at that time. It felt so good to experience a part of myself, so long denied, allowed expression in such a dynamic way. I felt that, in an ideal world, anger would have no part. As things were at the moment, it was far better that it flowed freely rather than being denied. I loved it and hated it. I started to notice it increasingly in my everyday life, and what was far more important, I began to accept it. I was never physically violent, but it was distressing to feel such violence wrack my being. It felt damaging and stressful and I wondered how long it would take to heal. It was in fact another two years before I found a way to focus it into creative and constructive channels. One spin-off was that I started to feel more 'real', and I could tell that January experienced a new sense of respect towards me when I was able to express my anger in an honest way.

This new ability had an associated responsibility. I found out pretty much immediately that it was essential to allow my anger the freedom to flow only at the correct times and in the correct manner. If I gave it unbridled license and 'shot' it at any provocation I would invariably end up with tissue damage in my mouth and delicate throat area. Ulcers, sores and tearing would appear within an hour or so of a temper outburst with consequential pain. What a balance I had to learn between passion and passivity!

This condition was instrumental in pushing me to a new understanding. During these first Medicine Wheel gatherings, a new concept that had been revealing itself in hazy glimpses became very clear: It doesn't matter so much what one does, or what happens to one. Life simply unfolds. What is really important is staying in one's Centre while it is happening. Staying awake. Accepting. Being here, now. I started to explore the elusive state of consciousness to be found at one's 'Centre'.

I wondered if this was the key to the crystals' last instruction.

At about this time a new composer and his music came into my life. His name was Shaun Davey, and his work for Uilleann pipes and orchestra called 'The Brendon Voyage' did wonderful things for me. The music was inspired by the magical voyage of the Irish St. Brendon to the New World, at around 540 AD, in search of immortality and healing. Yes, about 900 years before Columbus! I deeply fell in love with this music, finding my imagination enveloped and inspired by the magic and mystery of the Celtic Folk-Soul on a long perilous voyage at sea.

January and I were soon off to Southwest Eire, and the music seemed to get us into the mood. She had booked herself in for a workshop with Avril, a very talented Canadian woman who was well known for her voice workshops and Medicine teachings. We took the ferry from Fishguard. Imagine our surprise when we drove onto the ferry: it was called St. Brendan! We realised then that this was to be no normal trip.

We had a lovely journey along the south coast, deviating from time to time from the main road and exploring. One beautiful spot we came across was a sacred well, covered by ivy and foliage, in the middle of a fenced-off area by the road. The Virgin Mary looked on from a niche in a white wall, and a six-foot high standing stone made the third point of an equilateral triangle.

The stone had carvings on it; on closer inspection I saw it was Ogham, an ancient Druidic tree language. I was studying these powerful magical sigils and sometimes employed them in the making of magical tools. Such a sacred atmosphere of love, respect and peace filled the space. These very strong sacred symbols representing very different cultures and religions had lived together in harmony here for many hundreds of years. How I wished that this state of affairs would be the norm for the rest of the country, and indeed the world!

As we arrived in the Beara Peninsula, we entered a gateway. The air became crisper, cleaner, and the colours we could see became charged with a vibrant dark blue which permeated everything. Lichen-filled trees lined the wayside and the sea off the coast shone vibrantly in the flashing sunlight. I was aware that the life-force that entered Eire from this direction had just crossed three thousand miles of virgin ocean and was as clean, renewed and fresh as any on this planet. Everything seemed to sparkle and fizz like champagne; I gave thanks for being there.

January started the workshop, and I had three days to explore. I was drawn to a mountain just inland called Hungry Hill. It was the scene of a great tragedy during the potato famine long ago. Those Irishmen who dared to fight for their convictions and way of life were herded onto this mountain and starved. Many people died, and a pall of sadness seemed to hover close whenever I walked upon its slopes. I felt a despair well up from deep inside of me, and I roamed the hill as if I were one of those who died on it so long ago.

I made a special relationship with a beautiful pool fed by a waterfall at the base of the mountain. I took my clothes off and immersed myself, feeling the spirit of the land envelop me completely. The water was freezing, yet completely clean and I felt blessed. How simple it is to feel loved and completely cared for by Nature!

On the second day, as I approached the pool again, I saw evidence of crystals on a rock face to my left. I investigated and got excited – I could smell them! They were around, and close. I followed a seam of quartz down to ground level and dug into the turf. Just under the surface of the soil there was a little 'womb' in the seam, and crystals just poured out of it. In a couple of hours, tired but happy, I was the proud guardian of about two hundred beautiful crystals. They were so clear they could have been frozen water. The dark blue sparkling aura of the southwest of Eire shone radiantly from their depths. They were small: the largest was about two inches long, yet they were perfectly-formed clusters filled with such compressed life-force they took my breath away whenever I looked at them.

The pool, quickly becoming a good friend, also helped me considerably. When one accepts guardianship of magical Beings, one needs to fulfil one's own side of the bargain, and it is very important that the task is completed correctly. I had been very aware of my stewardship of the large broken crystal from Crystal Mountain. It had come into my life and had been broken at the Harmonic Convergence camp. Until then I had no idea what needed to be done with it. With a flash of inspiration, I knew it had to be placed in this pool where it would in time receive its healing. With a heavy heart I fetched it and threw it into the centre of the bubbling grail, and knew it had found its true home. It was good. The matter was complete.

On the third day it was time to pick up January. At the pre-arranged time I drove to the house where the workshop was being held and knocked on the door.

I am invited in and offered tea. All the participants are still here and this makes me very nervous. They have obviously been through something very profound, and have bonded together into an intimate and powerful group. Very strong female energies swirl through the space and I know that it won't take much to suck me away. Power hovers close. Avril seems to be taking an interest in me, and asks me a series of questions in the kitchen.

She describes what the group has just been through, and looks closely at me as if to gauge my reactions. She then asks me if I want to undertake the same ceremony, or initiation, as the women. I feel very small, yet surprisingly empowered: it is as if I am standing on the edge of a tall cliff on a dark night. I have just been asked if I want to jump off. Why me? Irrelevant. It seems very appropriate for the way my life is unfolding at present. After a moment's hesitation I say yes.

She asks me to wait and walks into the next room, calling the others together for a meeting. I wonder what on earth is going on, and what I have let myself in for. After a short while I am invited in where I see eight women, all magnificent and in their power, standing in a close group looking at me. I knew that something extraordinary is happening as the workshop is specifically for women and I, a man, am being invited to take part in their sacred business.

I also see that, given the choice, the women would have nothing to do with me. They are doing this out of their love and loyalty to Avril. Completely out of my depth, I do the only thing I can: surrender, and relax.

Avril speaks softly to me, instructing me in what is to happen, and how to behave. I lie down onto some sheepskins on the floor, loosen my clothes and make myself comfortable. From this perspective I can see a huge weaving covering the ceiling. I saw it when I initially entered the house, and dismissed it then as some sort of elaborate Christmas decoration that had been left up. I see it now as an incredible undertaking by many women over a long period of time. Avril explains that every woman attending a workshop in that house over the years has contributed to its dream-weaving.

I am experiencing similar feelings to those I felt while visiting a Kali temple in the foothills of the Himalayas: raw untamed power, indescribable beauty, and the complete ruthlessness of Nature. It is so strong that reality itself becomes bent. What is normally considered to be 'absolute', such as the floor being down and the ceiling 'up', is starting to become less well defined. Strange unmentionable things appear at the corners of my eyes as if about to enter a reality they are normally excluded from. I am glad that I have an appointment here this evening, and have entered with an invitation from the Goddess Herself!

It starts. Candles are lit and the lights extinguished. The women then kneel around me on the floor and place their hands upon my body. Avril cradles my head in her lap, and then they start to stroke me. They leave no part of my body untouched. It feels like a complete, all-round caress and I am bathed in true unconditional love. January is stroking my most sensitive and intimate places and there is no denial in my world during this eternal moment.

Then, cued by Avril, they start to sing. A choir of sublime sound fills the space around me, creating the most beautiful harmonies and vibrations which move me through a vast range of emotions. I feel more alive than ever before in my life, and feelings erupt from my depths like magma from a volcano.

I feel myself lose control. The feelings rushing through my being are too much to handle; and my body starts to twitch and jerk like a beached fish. The energies rush up to my face and hit the blocks and obstructions in the channels there. The pressure starts to build and I am too far gone to stop the proceedings.

Avril is with me and I trust her ability as a Medicine Teacher implicitly. Consequently, I am able to relax into the experience and face the agony that is focused in my face. In horror I feel my head swell and heat up as my life-force becomes penned up in the confined space. In my mind's eye I see my face as red, angry, and swollen to obscene proportions like a raging infection. It is all so painful! My eyes are bulging and about to burst out of their sockets and it feels as if I am approaching the punchline in a horror film.

By this time I am a helpless baby and incapable of anything except feeling. I feel my face contract in red anger, and I try to make a sound. My mouth is completely dry and nothing happens. In frustration I try harder yet only a strangled groan emerges. Enraged, I try to scream and a sort of moan passes my lips.

I then give up the fight and relax. My face cracks like a brittle, battered eggshell and I start to cry. Strangled sounds erupt from my throat, animal and tortured. Hot acid water gathers in my eyes: tears are not flowing properly yet and my eyes burn like fire. My face is ugly and swollen an angry purple-red. The cracks get wider and deeper, digging deep into my very identity and suddenly the front of my head breaks into a thousand pieces.

The energy starts to move at last. I sob my heart out, and the broken mask falls away leaving a new face: cool, virgin, featureless. My tears start to flow in earnest at this point and wash the acid away. They become cool and soothing, gentle and healing. I revel in this new sensation, this new identity awhile until the tears cease and I lie still, renewed. I experience profound silence and peace. After a while I come back to myself and realise that the women have withdrawn and are sitting quietly around me. I open my eyes and feel overwhelmed with love and gratitude for what has happened. When I am able, I sit up and thank everyone there.

Before we left the house, Avril asked me to visit her in three days' time. I was so moved by what had just happened that I was unable to think or talk. I mumbled my acceptance and wondered what was yet to come.

For a couple of days January and I travelled and explored the area and on the third day I visited Avril in her private house. It was small cottage with a wild, lovely garden at the base of Hungry Hill, a little way around it from the pool. I gave her some of my new crystal charges as gifts, which she accepted gladly. She asked January to leave and when we were alone she enquired about how I felt.

I answer that I feel great, and although things haven't altered all that much on the surface, I know that very profound changes have taken place where it really matters. She nods and inspects me with interest. Her eyes seem to change focus and I wonder what exactly she is seeing. Satisfied with what she perceives, she then completely baffles me by asking me if I would like to join what she calls 'the Sisterhood'.

She explains that although the Sisterhood is primarily for women, there are a few men who are needed to tune into and work with it in certain capacities. Again, consciously, I don't really understand what is going on yet I know something momentous is happening. I indicate to her that I am willing to do so and she smiles.

Avril is an incredible person with so much energy that she seems entirely different people at different times. When I first saw her at a dance camp I thought she was about fourteen, a precocious girl who was determined to get, and succeeded in getting what she wanted. At the workshop she was the responsible group leader and although everyone present was familiar with her, she obviously held the authority.

Now, as she prepares herself for what is to come, she sits very still like a tree and her features become old and wrinkled. Power enters the room. She allows her personality to step aside as a Grandmother enters her body and speaks with me. Her voice and mannerisms change and I know I am in the presence of a very special Being. She introduces herself, and tells me what I need to know about the Sisterhood. She asks me if I am prepared to become part of this sacred circle, with the obligations it entails. I answer in the affirmative.

She then conducts my initiation ceremony.

All too soon the next season was upon us. January and I had spent some of the winter at Ferngrove Farm, and we started to make ready. Mark had left to coordinate the site at the Rainbow Circle camps, and I found myself Oak Dragon's site manager and thrown in at the deep end. Still, I had had good preparation and training, it was what I loved to do and I applied myself to the challenge. A large proportion of the original camp equipment belonged to those who had left for other climes and I had to replace any missing items. In addition the equipment had to be checked, repaired if necessary, and readied for packing into the trucks.

The organisers were meeting regularly and there was an atmosphere of great things afoot. I was saddened, though, when I compared it to last year for something of the wild magic had left Oak Dragon and had found its allegiance elsewhere. It was all too obvious to me, and I hoped that the remaining energy was enough to make the necessary alchemy work.

We moved onto the new site, a small farm close to Tewkesbury. It was delightful: the field was an intimate three acres, and the family owning it friendly and helpful. I found the designing of the site and the erection of the structures easier than I had feared, and all manifested well on schedule. I had to concentrate on what I was doing, however, and I didn't have much time or energy for anything else.

One thing really gave me a great feeling. I got to know the resident family quite well, and spent some time with them. Now I had been looking for a top-hat for quite some time, but any I had tracked down were either too small, too large, or too expensive. It had become a long-lasting obsession with me and I was determined. Imagine my delight when I saw on a shelf in the house, a beautiful top hat woven out of wheatsheaves. What's more, it fitted me exactly!

I couldn't restrain myself, and told them my story. They were receptive, compassionate, and told me I could borrow it for a year and a day. With joy I put it on, and it became an extension of my head from then on.

By this time it had become apparent that Dan was ill, and was not always capable of looking after himself. It is a common danger for those on a spiritual path to become 'unearthed', for periods of time. When so many transformative and unusual experiences happen, it is easy to lose contact with the reality one calls 'normal'. A widening gulf grew between his version of reality and ours; our communication lapsed for longer and longer periods. What made things especially difficult was that Dan pushed solid and loving support away, and everything felt twisted and tricky in his presence. I didn't know what to do and decided to wait until moved by Spirit.

When he had arrived on site, he disregarded the site plan and erected his dome close to the centre of the field. He had a strange presence, sometimes lucid, sometimes intensely weird and generally disruptive. It was as if he wanted to be at the centre of attention, and tried at every opportunity to manipulate his way there despite the chaos he was creating.

It all came to a head at the end of our time there. There was to be a give-away on the last day in the big marquee, and all the camp was present. A give-away is a sacred occasion where everyone who wishes to take part offers a valuable object that they would like to give to another without hope of anything in return. They give because they are filled with abundance, and want to make another person happy. Each gift is placed together with the others in the middle of the gathering, and when all is ready, people take turns in choosing one. That day we sat in a circle around a coloured blanket overflowing with interesting objects.

I am chosen to be the first person to pick an item from the blanket on the floor! This is a great honour given to the New-Age equivalent of the person voted 'personality of the camp'. They all like what I have done in my capacity as site manager, and how I have done it. I feel overwhelmed and very happy on one hand, and very aware how it is affecting Dan on the other. He is sitting on my right and acting in a very distressed manner.

I know he wants this honour and is devastated that another, his student no less, is receiving it. I pick up a beautiful childlike sculpture that somebody has made, and am very happy. When the give-away is over, he comes up to me and says bitterly: 'You are the warrior, not me!' I don't know what to think, or how to react. Somehow he has made an experience which should have been light and celebratory into something soiled and sullied.

Some while later, I am walking through the site when I see a group of people acting somewhat strangely. I check it out, and see a naked Dan acting like a child and trying to get people's attention. He has succeeded in getting a fair audience and it all seems harmless enough.

I start to walk by when he sees me and calls out. I feel trapped. I both love him and want to help him, but don't want to be manipulated and used like a pawn in a sick game. Catch-22. Trapped.

I trust, and feel Spirit hovering close. He is going on about how the children of the world are abused and unloved by people, obviously asking those present to love and support him. I know this is a test and I determine to abide by my true feelings whatever happens. He approaches me, and stands facing me at arm's length. Suddenly, looking me in the eyes, he says "Catch me, Ivan!", and starts to topple towards me.

Spirit enters the situation. This is a turning point. Everything happens in slow-motion, and I become aware of many things at once. I have always been easy meat to manipulate by others, for all they have to say is how much they would be hurt if I did this, or didn't do that. This is a similar situation, and I rebel. Moving like a dancer, I step aside and watch dispassionately as Dan whistles by, not even trying to protect himself with his arms, and he crashes face-down into the grass. I experience a mixture of triumph, horror and a peculiar emptiness. My feelings are in turmoil. Without looking back, I walk away.

The next series of camps were held in the Forest of Dean, on a huge twenty acre field surrounded by forest. I felt quite proud of the fact that I had found the field at a time when the Oak Dragon management was starting to worry, for there was little time left to find a site before the camps were due to start. The field was overlooked by a couple of houses about four hundred yards away which was not a perfect situation, yet they were far enough away to blend into the background. I took no chances and designed the site in a defensive crescent moon configuration. It worked.

This camp I remember on two main counts: I expressed my frustration and anger in quite a spectacular way, and I took part in my first successful sweat lodge.

I was taught that one had to be polite and pretend at all costs that everything was allright. To express anything that was not socially acceptable such as anger or grief was terrible and either it would make 'a spectacle of oneself' or turned one into an outcast. This had been drilled into me by my parents and boarding school (you even had to shake the head boy's hand and say 'Thank you' to him after he had just thrashed you with a cane!) and it was difficult to shake loose from the conditioning.

January was a good teacher for me, because she was well in touch with her anger and had no qualms about expressing it. After my outburst at Springhead, my anger seemed to rise thick and fast. In the main, I didn't know how to deal with it or express it in a real and creative way. One day we had been arguing in the truck. The poor machine had become my symbol of being inside somebody else's space and of having no home of my own I could truly relax in. I felt trapped and at my wits' end. There seemed to be no solution to the problem, and my newly liberated life-force was surging through my body getting stronger by the minute. My anger was becoming uncontainable. Before I did something I would regret, I left the truck and descended the steps to the ground.

The milkman had left a pint of milk at the bottom of the steps. My animal self did a quick double-take, and smiled – or was it a snarl? In slow motion I picked up the milk, span around and let fly. The bottle flew true and hit the side of the hated truck. With a loud detonation, the glass shattered and a fountain of white liquid made a break for the stars until the unkind forces of gravity realised what was happening and hurriedly stepped in. Broken glass twinkled rainbows in the white tidal wave, and all spattered onto the ground. One bounce, then stillness.

In the silence that was hovering over the whole situation I experienced the freedom of the animal. At the same time as the glass shattered, the bubble of 'correct behaviour' that had trapped and bound me all my life broke and I found that I could breathe again. Aware that something important had happened, I gave thanks.

I also had a dilemma: should I pick up the broken glass before somebody hurt themselves, or should I act the angry young man and stride away in righteous indignation? The glass winked at me and so I started to pick it up, helped by a few people who suddenly appeared. When it was all disposed of, I stomped away in righteous indignation!

Subsequently, whenever I saw the dent in the truck's side, I would smile and remember the day I vented my anger and returned the milk to mummy!

Then there was the Purification, or Rainbow Lodge led by Keith. Although the name 'Sweat-Lodge' is used quite extensively around the world, the term is offensive to some Native American nations and, in respect, can be named more suitably. Keith was going to run a 'Children's Lodge", a gentle ceremony for people who were not experienced.

My first Purification Lodge in the Presceli mountains had been vicious. After a few minutes I had panicked and rolled out under the canvas wall of the lodge without even attempting to use the door flap! Keith assured us that this one was designed to be suitable for even the most timid. I believed and trusted him.

The whole day was put aside for collecting hazel poles for the structure and firewood. It took shape remarkably well and everyone was involved. We built a small semi-circular structure like an upside-down basket, a small bender, and tied it together with vines. This was covered with many layers of tarpaulin, carpet and blanket in order to keep the heat in. It was satisfying, creative work that helped forge a cheerful group spirit, and almost made us forget our fears! I watched each step of the process with interest, thinking that I might actually organise a Purification Lodge someday. We had all found a stone the day before, and they were all placed on a wooden platform inside the the carefully built pyramid-shaped fire. Prayers were made by all, and the fire was lit with ceremony. We spent a pleasant hour or so together watching the tall dancing flames and witnessing the first stars emerge from the darkening night sky.

Sparks from the sacred fire would rush upwards, shiver violently in anticipation, and dance with the stars in a communion between earth and heaven. Suddenly the time was upon us and, having put our offerings onto the altar, we took off our clothes and entered the lodge.

My fears were unfounded. It was great. Keith took us through a simple but powerful ceremony as if we sat in the dark nurturing womb of the earth Herself. Glowing rocks, the bones of the Mother, were passed into the lodge and they seemed to come alive in strange shapes and patterns. When they had been placed in the central pit, the doorflap was lowered and prayers were made. Water was then sprinkled onto the rocks and super-heated steam hissed off the red-hot surfaces like angry snakes.

We sweated away our past, our present and our future. Our fears, hopes and prayers were absorbed by the loving embrace of the Earth below us. I never knew there was so much liquid inside of me, and observed amazed as it erupted through my pores, poured down the surface of my skin and dripped continually off my chin. We did four rounds with a short break between each, in order to allow the fireperson to pass more red-hot rocks into the central pit. We left the lodge during the breaks and were able to stretch our legs for five minutes or so.

Each round had a particular theme. The first was for inviting different qualities into the lodge to protect and help us through the process, which was for all intents and purposes a rite of passage. We were all given an opportunity to invite into the Lodge the god, goddess or ally we personally resonated with, and I asked Babaji to be my helper. The next round was dedicated to prayers for others, and for the planet.

The third round was for ourselves: we were invited to share our own current healing process with the circle, how we felt about it, and what we needed in order to be healed. Needless to say, this was the hottest and most uncomfortable round! The fourth and last round was one of gratitude, thanking Great Spirit for our great good fortune in being present at such a beautiful healing ceremony.

When everyone had spoken, we remained in silence to allow a new Dream to manifest, one we could take with us and bring to birth in the next stage of our lives. And so it was.

What a lovely, meaningful day! This experience showed me that Purification Lodges could be fantastic, depending on who was leading. This was the initiation that would eventually inspire me into creating a Purification Lodge group of my own. I would take the original concept and experiment with it until I, and the circle I was working with, had refined it to our hearts' desire.

The next two camps were held at Honey Street near Alton Barnes. It was an unusual site next to a canal, bursting in potential and energy. A white horse stared benignly down from Adam's Grave at the top of a nearby hill and we danced with the extremely active earth-energies of the area.

I was eager to try out one of the dances that I had received at David's give-away at Springhead. It was the Wolf Dance, where each individual dancer in the group takes a turn at chanting, and the rest reply. There is a series of dance steps that are fairly complicated, and all the time the dancers employ the the 'hand drum': beating the right fist onto the palm of the left hand to create a beat. It is really a ceremonial occasion, as this dance is requesting the spirit of the wolf to come and lead all present to the right pathway in life, to the 'path with heart'. A wonderful group of about twenty people wanted to take part and we practiced daily.

On the last full day of the camp there was to be a performance in the Big Top, where single people and groups would perform whatever they had been practicing throughout the camp. I asked my good friend Diana if she would be the priestess officiating at the wolf-dance ceremony, as she was an initiated member of the Native American Wolf Clan.

She agreed, and I was delighted. When the day arrived, she was ill and couldn't do it! She made me an honorary member of the Wolf Tribe and empowered me to do the ceremony myself.

Suddenly the time was upon us. We dressed, painted ourselves for the occasion, and entered the marquee. The ceremony unfolded, and then it was time to dance. It went like a dream, with the people watching joining in lustily with the chanting and clapping (which actually made our job harder). The energy grew and grew, the spirits were dancing with us all!

When the last person had sung the chant, it was the signal for everyone to howl like wolves. Well, the place erupted with howls as the entire camp let rip. After a while we heard a man shouting, and were finally able to hear his words over the sound of the dogs of the nearby village which were still howling for all they were worth: "Shut up! We're trying to sleep!" And so, unfortunately, we had to. Needless to say, the Native American contingent were not very popular with the rest of the camp!

That autumn I decided that I wanted to spend a more sedentary time over winter, and took up the kind offer of two friends, John and Paula, to make a home on their land. They owned a large house with grounds near Leominster in the borderlands of Herefordshire, and offered January and me a place to build a bender and park the truck. The deal was that I'd do a certain amount of work on the house and gardens in lieu of rent.

January at first didn't like it, but I was adamant, and we moved in. I made a lovely bender in a copse of trees overlooking a pretty valley. Hay Bluff could be seen twenty miles away on the skyline. This spot was to become our base for the next two years.

In October we had an appointment in Dartmoor, at Grimstone Manor near Tavistock, to be exact, where we were to spend five days dancing with Gabrielle Roth. She is an extraordinary woman whose life path is enlightenment through body movement, and she was the first person I had met who was capable of helping me learn how to move my body in accordance with my innermost being.

First of all we were taught to listen to the music, and to let our bodies move when and how they wanted. We were told that our bodies should dance us, and not the other way around. We were told to keep our awareness purely on the sensations on and in our bodies, especially on those areas that were making contact with solid matter, for they were our earth points. Unless otherwise instructed, we were to ignore the other people dancing except to avoid collisions. This was to reduce the awful self-consciousness that afflicts so many people when they are in public. And we danced many hours a day. Gabrielle took turns to dance with each one of us, checking our progress and giving us support.

Probably her main gift to others is her unique teaching method called the 'Five Rhythms'. She envisions the creation cycle happening in five stages, which she identifies as flowing, staccato, chaos, lyrical and stillness.

Flowing is pretty much how it sounds. Creation starts in a steady movement, continuous, never actually stopping, watery, flowing on to the next level, and then the next. Fear is the emotion associated with this state. The flow gets increasingly powerful and defined. At some point it changes into staccato, where the movements become rhythmic and pulsing. Anger is the emotion released here, and the element is earth.

As it progresses, the body dances an increasingly rhythmic beat, pumping the energy higher and higher. Staccato gives way to chaos. Each changeover is gradual and the new rhythm emerges slowly from the former.

Chaos is really a state of catharsis, where the dancer loses control and the body releases whatever it needs to. Sadness is the emotion associated with chaos, and the element is fire. Chaos then changes to lyrical. The body has released its heaviness and now there is lightness and joy, the sunshine after a storm. Air is the element here, with a lot of twirling and upwards- reaching movement. The emotion is, of course, joy.

Then (and none too soon, because by this time one is pretty knackered) silence descends, and one's movements become slow, languid, and old age finally catches up. Stillness has arrived. The feeling is downward, and it is not uncommon to end the cycle on the floor.

There is a real sense of completion and transition when one dances the five rhythms in its entirety, and I felt I had learnt something really special with Gabrielle. As the workshop progressed, I felt my body loosen up and start to enjoy dancing. For as long as I could remember, I had hated dancing because of my excessive self-consciousness. It was so bad that, even when dancing alone, I would feel inhibited because of what people would think of my movements if they were watching!

So I danced and danced. On the third day I was dancing the Dance of Life in the grounds, when a white wolf appeared in my mind's eye and prowled around the sacred circle I was defining in my celebration. After the initial surprise, I was happy and deeply honoured at the visitation, as all white animals signify the presence of the sacred. The wolf in particular is the guide, the teacher that shows the path of heart to follow on one's life path.

That evening, some of us lazed and washed away our fatigue in the jacuzzi. Afterwards, warm and dreamy, I walked naked into the dance hall where I had left my clothes. I felt relaxed yet strong inside, and knew that something was about to happen.

The others have disappeared leaving me alone. I can feel magic in the air, and I wonder how it is going to manifest this time. From my shoulder bag I take out my minga-minga sticks, two nine-inch long, one-inch thick circular sticks used by the Australian Aborigines to make music. I tap them together a few times, and soon I have found my rhythm. Naked and already in Dreamtime, I become the beat of the night.

In the Dream I see Gabrielle and her friend Heather enter the room. Their faces express a moment's surprise at finding me there in such an unusual condition, then they relax. They then leave the vertical position and start to move on all fours. It is as if they are relieved to cast off human shape, and return to the form that really brings them alive. Gabrielle bounds sinuously to the music machine and inserts a tape. She switches it on, and Heather hits the light switch. The room is plunged into darkness. There is silence for a moment and then a wolf starts howling. The hair stands up on my head. Another wolf sings its heart out, and yet another.

And then the whole space is full of lithe, majestic animals which take joy in celebrating their bodies and voices in the light of the night. They pad and race about the large space with abandon and grace. They investigate me and I am accepted for the duration into their pack. Feeling my snout grow and covered by a deep silver pelt under the spinning moon, I surrender to the power of the situation – yet keep the rhythm.

The whole five days were leading up to what Gabrielle called a 'Puberty Initiation', a rite of passage to enable us all to leave childhood behind and take responsibility for ourselves. The form it was going to take was a performance in front of everybody else of a poem we had written for the occasion. The poem was to be a rendition of the transition we were going through. I was terrified.

The evening before the last full day was allocated to composing the poem. Everyone seemed to take it very seriously, and very few people were to be seen. I was experiencing terror and confusion. I could write poems well enough, but I knew there was no way I would be able to remember it by heart, let alone perform it in front of others. I didn't know what to do.

Suddenly I had it! I would call for a vision and remember its main components. At the performance, I would centre myself and then allow a spontaneous story on the vision to emerge. Satisfied, I enjoyed the rest of the evening and slept well.

The night of nights approached. The vision came to me and it was perfect. There was a stage in the dance hall, and it was cleared. A circle of night-lights and crystals was laid at its lip, so that each performer could walk up to, and sit inside the circle of sparkling light during their rendition. There was unbelievable tension in the room that night, and it made no difference how much former experience each participant had. After we had run through a series of exercises to make the energy flow, it started. As each person felt moved, he or she walked to the stage, sat down or stood inside the ring of cheerful flame and bared their soul.

What a collection of talent there was in that room on that night! I felt humbled to be there amongst people with such huge hearts and so much courage. Somewhere in the proceedings I felt my legs start to move and I mounted the stage. I sat down in the light and composed myself. My fear was immense yet I knew that there was no way I could allow it to disrupt what I had to do. I focused on a huge black bird flying high above the world, invisible in the night, lonely, silent.

It could see for immense distances and could go anywhere it pleased, yet it knew it was missing something. Aware of something unusual, compelling, it spiralled lower and lower towards the ground until it saw a lion on a golden chain pacing backwards and forwards in a circle far below. Feeling compassion for the creature it flew as close as it dared and whispered hello. The lion didn't even hear, and however the bird tried to gain its attention, nothing seemed to work. Yet the bird could not leave. It became one-pointed in its attempts to make contact, and slowly the lion started to take notice. Finally, the lion stopped his pacing and listened.

'You are a powerful being", the bird sang,"no chains can trap you. Run free as nature intended. I am your friend, and will let no harm come to you. Now, run free!"

With a roar, the lion ran in the direction his newly awakened heart indicated and the chain snapped. With a new sense of purpose and swelling life-force he ran and ran, the chain dropped off, and still he ran. As he ran he felt a strange feeling between his shoulderblades, and he suddenly realised they were wings! They were slowly growing on his back! Although he runs and bounds over the earth still, soon his wings will be large enough to carry his weight and then he will fly...

Everyone completed, then Gabrielle brought in a huge cake covered in cheerfully flickering candles. We looked at one another and honoured our newly renewed energy bodies which sparkled and shone in the candlelight. We had come of age – it was truly our birth-day!

Soon after the workshop with Gabrielle, I was shown a practical, transformative way to work with my anger. January and I were in the truck, and we were having a disagreement. I could feel my anger and frustration building and approaching the point of no return. Suddenly I remembered my gifts, and felt empowered to do anything I wanted to do. I excused myself to a startled January and shot out the door. I jumped to the ground and ran to a spot in the trees where I knew I couldn't be overlooked.

And then I danced. I danced for my life. I moved and gyrated my way through the five rhythms, trusting my body to do what it needed. By the time I fell into an exhausted heap I knew something profound had happened. My anger had been replaced by a peaceful sense of having created something unique, beautiful and full of meaning. I hadn't merely suppressed my anger, for I had felt it fully. As the dance progressed, I had actually felt it change through the five stages of transformation, finally arriving at a sense of completion as I lay among the trees.

I then knew that I had a wonderful new tool at my command: the healing and transformation of my emotional and energetic bodies through the medium of shamanic dance.

After the camp season we had an appointment with Dan for some more Medicine Wheel teachings. We met at Springhead again – I loved it there. The next stage of our esoteric journey began. Dan didn't seem too upset by our interactions at the Tewkesbury camp, when I had let him fall, or, should I say, refused to play his manipulative games.

We travelled further and deeper into the secrets of the sacred. I found during this gathering that one of my 'guides' through life is Babaji, and he spoke through me a couple of times. It was wonderful to recognise and experience him inside me during our sacred sessions, and get to know the sensations and feelings associated with his presence. He was very much larger than life, and had a wicked sense of humour!

At first his presence came as a shock, then I remembered what happened in the back seat of a taxi in London a few years earlier:

I am on my way to work and I'm watching the night lights of the great city. I am wondering how such a giant collective entity can possibly live and thrive, when Babaji appears to me, floating above my head. It is a couple of months after he left his human body.

Beaming a huge smile, he says, "Hi!"

"Hi!"

"How're you doing? We had some great times in the Himalayas, right?"

"Pretty well. Yes, they were very special. And yourself?"

"Great, thanks. Well, having no body is a bit awkward sometimes."

"Can I help in any way?"

"Well, now you mention it, yes. Indeed you can."

"How?"

"From time to time, can I have your permission to borrow your body?"

"W-what?"

"You heard! Some people wouldn't be aware of a bodiless entity if it kicked them in the balls. Sometimes only a body will do. Don't worry, I have been asking lots of people this question, and quite a few have answered in the affirmative."

"O-O.K."

"Great. I think your life will be getting a lot more humourous from now on!"

And it did!

During the workshop, I gave Dan a gift. It was the little sculpture I chose during the give-away at Tewkesbury which had upset him so much. I had treasured it since then. I hoped it would tell him how much I felt for him and the gratitude I felt for his teachings. He accepted it strangely: towards the end of the gathering I saw it in the bushes outside our communal room. It was smashed into little pieces.