Womad 2014: A Cracker

I was 12-years-old the first time I went to Womad. I cried when my parents told me that I had to go with them. 

My 12-year-old self despised the thought of spending three days listening to World music and dancing with dirty looking, harem pant-wearing people. But obviously, I had little say in the matter and had to go anyway. To my surprise, I loved every minute of it and vowed to one day return to the quirky and eccentric New Plymouth festival. But I would never submit to the harem pant wearing culture.

Fast-forward to 2014 and now aged 21, I decided fulfill that vow by attending Womad’s tenth anniversary festival. I packed my sleeping bag, left my shoes at home and prepared to forget to shower for the next few days. Despite the looming presence of Cyclone Lusi, myself and 44,000 others made the long journey to the  - very far away from everything but very beautiful – Taranaki region for a weekend of music, art and culture.

Ode to the Night Train

As we stumble carefully through the Thai country-side we suddenly start to understand what it means when poets and parents and people who look down on us 

all swear that it's not about the destination

 but about the times that we have while getting there. 

Up until now such prose has been nothing more than melancholy cliche

but there's something in this warm oriental evening that turns our heads and bites at us as if to say 

'you will never quite make it, but that is beside the point'. 

As this freshly apparent truth starts to sink in we grow silent in the realisation that the utopia we yearn for is already here 

and that paradise is in the now 

and no matter how many years we live, nothing will ever be as good as what we are  living in this exact moment. 

The journey; 

the freshness of youth; 

the liberating freedom that is the search. 

Golden

Sometimes I feel golden.
I'm a glimmering speck floating through space and time. 
A tiny gold star in a far away but beautiful patch of the sky.

In these moments I am absolutely certain that nothing 
– not life nor death, not hunger or nakedness, 
not heartbreak nor all the misfortune in the world - can stop me. 

In these moments I do not merely feel strong or courageous,
 but I am all together certain that I am nothing short of invincible.

These moments usually come late in the day.
 As the sun prepares to clock out something in my veins begins to radiate
 and the sensation takes me over.

In the dead, grotesque, empty areas I rapidly come back to life. 

I feel as though the soon-to-be-sleeping sun sees me. 
And I have not a doubt that she understands how I feel. 
Taking pity on me she casts a spell upon my soul 
and she watches with pride as my eyes once again begin to sparkle 
and the hairs on the back of my neck start to dance 
in a frenzy of excitement.

All at once the sky explodes, my mind following in it’s nuclear path 
and now all I can think of is the fact that we are young and free 
and if God is for us then who in the world can possibly stop us.

I start to breathe deeper than I ever have before, 
gulping and gasping selfish and glutinous breaths. 
Visions of the night ahead flash through my young mind 
and at once I understand that for this night there is no map, 
no plan, no prescribed method. 

For this night there is only freedom 
and there is nothing in the world that could not or may not take place
 if we so will it.

As I watch the sun sinks deeper into the rich, warm earth. 
My heart races ever faster and my skin burns ever hotter.

As the great lady of the sky retires into darkness, my mind is further illuminated. 
It’s as if she’s decided to lend me her glow for the night 
 - a blessing far too great to ignore.

I hop into the car, start the engine and drive quietly into a great perhaps.

My friend, these are the golden days.