#bed-bound

Workshop? No: Influenza, Chest Infection and Bed…

I should be in Scotland right now, enjoying the company of friends and sharing the second day adventure of a Ritual Drama/Magic Workshop.

I am not. Having been in bed for most of the past ten days, getting out and about in Glastonbury is currently a bridge too far, never mind anything North of the Border. I am not going to pretend that I feel New Age acceptance, Fluffy Bunny bollocks or that I…

Spring hurts most of all. It’s the darkest time for me. In the winter, I feel like one among many, we Berliners, hibernating from the cold and wet and heavy. Indoors so much more coveted than out. It’s almost as if I belong. Then the frost melts. The first green butts its head through brown. The sun is pale and new, but it’s trying hard. The sky shines. Suddenly everyone is busting outdoors. Everyone is awakening, falling in love, jumping on bicycles. Smiling. Blackbirds with tangerine beaks. Dandelions in the garden. I lie here, too sick even to listen to the wind, to see the clouds spin. The planet rolls forward. I watch you all go. And I can’t follow.