Now you remind me of that social disobedience there is (or maybe was, or maybe still is) in England. I loved that. Loved the idea. Never really had the courage to join them, but always had sympathy. I remember it used to be more. Or maybe they just reported it more. (In the age of trump and fake news — do I know anything for sure?). There used to be a lot more sympathy for people who were protesting. The people who don’t like it — really don’t like it. They are terrified of a break down of their little lives. Not really realizing that their lives have already broken down. So many lonely individuals living in their lonely little unlovely houses on the streets of broken pavements.
My daughter had her second communal experience staying in a hippie house of 14 people in Hamburg last week. She was scared at first. But it turned out they have created a little ‘utopia’ (I hesitate to use the word) with work working and a café and it’s clean and people respect each other… wow. Sounds great. It opened her eyes. She just asked me ‘should I have children?’ What should I answer? If we could live together — wouldn’t it be wonderful to live together and not feel bullied.
I’ve always had a camper van since I was 23 years old. I just needed to have it in case I needed to drive away and keep driving. Escape run away. I never did it until this last time.
There’s only one guy in the world I envy. He’s my singing group leader. He has a nice wife and two pretty children. They live in the country with another family. They built the house themselves. They have enough land. They have a pony called Pferdinand for the child. He has a great voice, plays guitar really well and can channel energy through the group. Love. I looked at him for a long time before I believed he was real.
He told me about the European Rainbow Camps. Do you know them? I went two years ago. I found the people I wish I was more like.