Lammas Friday

Friday morning, on my way to Aberystwyth to meet my friend for a lift down to Cardigan, I called one of the Lammas organizers, who I had contacted earlier. Lammas is the name of an eco-village project near Glandwr (inland Wales in Pembrokeshire). Maybe 40 minutes from the coast, not sure. At the moment, it is a collection of fields because the Welsh government is dragging their feet about giving them planning permission (for buildings). A group of nine families, most with children, own the land. They have begun infrastructure, planting trees, etc. They hope to build eco-friendly straw bale houses, and eventually develop sources of income like orchards and crafts. Anyway, the Lammas guy invited me to come see the land because a few of them had been camping out, working on the projects. So I completely changed my plans, and instead of going along the coast, I went to see Lammas.

The grass has finally been allowed to grow in the fields after years of grazing. Imagine meadows with waving grass, trees growing along the borders, and a mill pond with geese and little islands. Tiny trees pop up where they have begun to lay out their plans. String marks out where buildings will go, and little things here and there are done. We took a tour of the land, and I heard the plans. Cooked dinner over the fire, and sat, keeping it going, as my host finished up chopping wood. I sat, past sunset, alone by the fire, entirely focused on it in meditation. As I walked back to the tent, I paused in shock as I came out of the wood, into the meadow, because it was so open that you could see the entire curving globe of the sky, absolutely full of stars. It was like a planetarium, except, for me, I thought that first instead of recognizing its reality. Thinking of the imitation instead of the real, because I was more likely to see a planetarium than the full night sky. Stood in silent awe.

The next morning after breakfast, I walked to the lower edge of the meadow because I had seen a large oak tree. I climbed up on the grassy wall, and sat beneath a sycamore, a hawthorn, and the oak. I meditated beneath the trees, sitting nestled between their roots. I sang (some of you may never believe this), because there was no one around. After awhile, as I leaned with my back against the old oak, singing a song my meditation teacher taught me a year ago, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye in the ajoining meadow. Two large brown horses were standing, watching me, and soon joined by another. They were still a bit of distance away, but were watching me, ears pricked up. I paused, then continued to sing, and they came closer. As long as I kept singing (again, you may not believe this), they came closer and closer, until their heads reached over the fence and I was allowed to touch their noses. They lingered for awhile, losing interest, and then returning if I sang again. Very, very skittish, so I had to move oh so slowly. I think they stayed for at least ten, fifteen minutes, maybe longer. Then my foot slipped off the wall, and the horse nearest was startled, so they meandered away.

Never having charmed horses before, it was quite an experience.

Lammas was all I had hoped it would be: beautiful, with a kind energy and good people. Having followed their progress, keeping the project in the back of mind for over a year, I felt as if the journey was complete in a way. Whether I return or not, this opportunity was a special moment for me.