Climate Camp on Wednesday was a wonderfully rich day.
My best recollections of the day include excellent workshops on Energy and Climate Change policy (punctuated by annoying forays by the kinky-looking Essex Police Helicopter), children lying down to hide in the long grass under the tripods bearing the camp banner "NO NEW COAL", doing a little kitchen duty, a wonderfully tasty vegan meal in the evening, hearing guitars strumming in places over the site, having catch-up chats with old colleagues, starting conversations with new potential colleagues.
The afternoon heated up, and after the evening meal I felt a little heat-stressed, so I retired to lie on the bean bag in the London Neighbourhood central marquee, where the flaps were open at one end to increase air flow, allowing me to look out over beautiful rolling Kent countryside. Aah. Contentment. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, some dark heavy cloud rolled in, and lightening started to arc in the sky, silently. The whole vista turned red, grey and blue as the electrical storm gathered density. It was utterly stunning.
Flashes of light continued to puncture the sky as I made my way up the campsite to the Christian Cafe Space, where I had been invited for Communion. A group of around a dozen of us commemorated the ultimate personal sacrifice of the Son of God, and sang and prayed for peace, safe protest action, and appropriately sensitive policing. As we offered ourselves to be Witnesses to Earth's destruction, and the Climate Camp's commitment to public resistance to failed national Energy and Climate Change policy, a breeze started to build into a wind, and the celebration candle blew out.
Gently, at first, and then with thundering multitude, rain started to fall on the tent, and a full-blown summer storm grew into powerful rage. Lots of scampering campers. Lots of mini-parties in shared open marquees and geodesic domes. The sense of joy and unity was fantastic.
Communion with the Earth and all the people.
