If life were a performing arts festival

If life were a performing arts festival
Crows on stilts would greet us every morning
And shells with legs would cross the path
That leads to the Healing Field where we’d
Curl up on the warm earth and rest.

If life were a performing arts festival
Bodies of every age and shape and gender and race
Would come together in one
Firework explosion of self-expression 
Without judgment or sarcasm or hate.

If life were a performing arts festival
There would be no ‘in’ or ‘out’ of fashion
And we’d wear sparkle on our cheeks
And drawings on our bodies
And love in our hearts.

If life were a performing arts festival
We’d wonder through the woods and find
Woven sculptures of creatures
That would sit with us around the fire
And help us create new legends and myths.

If life were a performing arts festival
We’d sit in tents and listen to storytellers
And poets and singers and comedians
Who’d spin us around with their sounds
And heal us with their voices.

If life were a performing arts festival
We’d fly our flags high and proud
And sing and dance as one people,
And remember the beauty of life and the miracle
Of just being here, right now, on this planet.

I’m on a festival high.

Last week I attended the five-day extravaganza that is Glastonbury Festival of Contemporary Performing Arts—lovingly known as ‘Glasto’.

Along with 210,000 other festival-goers, I danced, sang, talked, listened, walked, slept, ate, and drank in the fields of Worthy Farm and marvelled at how so many people could come together in peace and joy with no hint of aggression or malice.

It was uplifting, inspiring, and out of this world.

‘Out of this world’ because ‘real’ life isn’t like the festival, and I wonder why not. Why can’t we hold hands as we sing anthems and move our bodies in unison to the beat? Why can’t life be one long, peaceful performing arts festival?

Until next time.

JC