Finding hope in a field

Over August bank holiday weekend, for the first time since before the pandemic, I headed to Greenbelt Festival. It is a place I have been often over the years, though not for a while. The world, and my own life, have changed significantly in the interim.

Over numerous return visits, it has given me many different things. It has been a place where I have heard amazing speakers who have opened my eyes, expanded my knowledge, added depth to my understanding, and left me asking important questions (in a good way). It has been a place where I have caught up with many friends, where I have had good conversations, and where I have sensed that I am surrounded by other people who care passionately and deeply about important issues. It was the place I learned that hot water bottles can transform the experience of camping; and that there is something sublime about Christmas carols, belted out with abandon, under bright blue summer skies. It has been a place of not shying away from the big topics: of facing up to the harsh realities of the darkness in the world but still holding on to belief in the light. It has been a place where I have found hope. 

When the opportunity came up to return this year, all of that suggests I'd have immediately jumped at the chance, but in reality the decision was a little more complex, and in the last couple of days before I set off, when I felt both more tired than I wanted to and somewhat overwhelmed by all the things still on my jobs list which I had convinced myself I'd have ticked off before September rolled around, I did find myself questioning whether it was really what I needed. The forecast of more-or-less solid rain for the duration possibly didn't help my motivation! Despite my hesitations, I knew I'd regret it more if I didn't go than if I did, and that I'd undoubtedly enjoy it once I got there. 

When we arrived amid incessant rain, I was immensely grateful (and yes, possibly slightly smug) that my nephew had already set our tents up. My sense of gratitude to those I shared the weekend extended far beyond just that: I appreciated having a motorhome to sit in when the rain came back, I appreciated that other people did a lot of the thinking, planning and organising of the practicalities; above all, I appreciated the quality time spent together, the conversations, the laughter and the care, the maintaining and building of relationships.

There were plenty of other things to be grateful for too: the weather turned out to be much better than the forecast had threatened, and while there were some significant downpours, there were also long swathes of time bathed in warm sunshine. I suspect there were people for whom the lack of WiFi couple with the terrible mobile signal and limited charging possibilities felt like a negative, but to be honest, I embraced it as a gift. (Needless to say, in the fortnight since, I have failed to stick to my resolution of cutting down on screen and scrolling time.)

Before setting off, I made a conscious decision to give myself permission to do what I termed, in my own mind 'Greenbelt light'. 

Often I have prioritised the intellectual input that Greenbelt has to offer, embracing the privilege of hearing speakers I would have few other opportunities to encounter, filling every possible moment with all the content and conversation available. Sometimes that has been exactly what I have needed, and I have soaked in the inspiration like a sponge, coming away reinvigorated and ready.  

This year I knew I needed something different. I went to a handful of talks, some carefully selected, some more because that's just where I happened to be; but there was also lots of undoubtedly excellent and important input that I opted not to engage with. Instead I allowed music and poetry to wash over me; I sang songs, and played with words; I spent time chatting, and playing card games, and eating together, and sharing laughter; and one afternoon when I was already damp and the rain showed no sign of abating, I spent a couple of hours in my tent doing really very little, and that was ok too.

My ways of engaging may have been a little different, but my overall experience was the same. By the time we left, in more ways than one, there'd been enough rain for the parched grass to be beginning to turn back to green. I was reminded, again, that hope is renewed not by denying that our world is deeply flawed, and that people and our planet face immense, seemingly insurmountable challenges; but by engaging with all of that messy reality and finding that there is still potential and possibility. I was reminded, again, that we can only do that together. 

Thank you, Greenbelt, you did it again!