Sending this message to everyone who bravely said that they would or might be able to come to the windy chalky hillside where the ancient echo of flint striking against flint still hangs in the air.

Two things - (1) date and time, and (2) what will we actually do once there?

(1) When?

Enough people have said they can't manage Tuesday 9th, so I think we should rule that out ... with sincere apologies to the one person who said that was the only day which they could do.

Wednesday 10th or Thursday 11th are both looking like reasonable possibilities at the moment, and as of now there seems to be a bit of a preference for the Wednesday.

So, please take this message as saying that it's likely to be Wednesday, but that if you really really would prefer Thursday then please let me know asap and we'll try to re-calibrate.

As for the time: the farm staff suggested 12 noon but say it could be a bit later, depending on how plans unfold.

(2) What?

My original idea, indeed expectation, was that the whole thing should be pretty austere. No director of ceremonies, no eloquent tributes, not even any eloquent laments ... no feasting or banqueting ... not even afterwards. Just chanting, if anyone could kindly do that, and singing, if anyone could kindly do that. Then, in the fading December afternoon light, we all gently take our leave of each other and go our separate ways, while Kinthissa finally leaves bardo and joins the calm and vast ocean unless she has already done so.

And then ... much later ... slowly, softly, using all the magical resources for online communication that we have these days ... we communicate.

Well I have to say, that idea was greeted by absolute howls of disapproval. People are wanting to telephone tea-rooms and pubs in Lambourn (the local town to Sheepdrove). And to appoint masters of ceremonies. I am quite speechless. But I understand that I am the very last person in any sort of position to raise objection. So ... if I defer to the wisdom of the eminently social beings who surround me, I would simply offer the thought of what could have been.

All love,
Ben

P.S. regarding that mention of 'ocean', I'd like to add – or could have added in that other note about the last days – that over many months Kinthissa dreamed and spoke often about the river, and the ocean, and in particular the place where the mouth of a river joins the ocean.

P.P.S. added Sunday afternoon: chosen Wednesday 10th December, hope OK for as many folks as possible.

P.P.P.S. added Monday evening: we have now also fixed the time, 12:30 for 13:00. If you could arrive by 12:45 or even 12:30, you would have time to become orientated in the wood with a brief meditation. I'll put another webpage soon with more details.

Are you hearing howls? Or are you hearing the immemorial echos of the trees greeting a new guest? I'd like to quote what a dear friend has written in response to the earlier part of this note,

Wordless convergence on the downs and dispersal to the winds, as it were an iron age burial, sounds beautiful, I hope we do that. Winterlands now summerlands later.

 

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