Well, after almost 8 weeks of traversing the mysty lanes, robust maidens and complex ephipanies of 12th Century Europe, this weekend the Westcountry School of Myth and Story clamber to the mossy heights of Dartmoor and our bluebell laden Wildwood.
The tremulous story of Parzival is now rattling my very nervous system into a new,unruly constellation in preperation for gathering around the ancient fire and together journeying to the story-river, a place so long ago and also right here now.
Sell furniture, tap-dance on a street corner, pan for Gold, but get to the Woods!
01364 653723 for final places.

Part of the story is the need to throw our Good name into the dust every now and again. Here's some Hafez on that very thought-in a poetic form called a Ghazal (Jay's poem below uses the same form)

I'm well known throughout the whole city
for being a wild-haired lover; and I'm that man who has
never darkened his vision by seeing evil.

Through my enthusiam for wine, I have thrown the book
of my good name into the water; but doing that ensures that
the handwriting in my book of grandiosity will be blurred.

Let's be faithful to what we love; lets accept blame
and keep our spirits high, because on our road, being
Hurt by the words of others is a form of infidelity.


Now you don't get that from Pam Ayres.

Parzival as a story really starts to rock'n'roll with the double influence of both the early Celtic symbology but also the influence of the Islamic world coming up from Spain and both cooking in the world of the Troubadours and their brief century. (There is also bits of the Gnostics and Daoism floating about). The ancient feminine energies of Europe returned in force too,hidden in the lyrics and the general aspirations.For a way into this nest of gorgeousness (this Celtic Ecstatic mix is one of the 9 heavens in my opinion),a good book is 'the Troubadours and their World' by Jack Lindsay.

See you in the Forest. Bring a cloak, a hawk and attendents.