I have sustained a regular spiritual practice for many years now. Over time, my needs and aspirations for my morning and evening practice changed and sifted. As I grew and changed, so did my time of meditation. The whole cycle never stayed exactly the same for more than a few months. But a few things became important to me: my connection to the seven directions, a tarot card to inspire my meditation, and the silence of the Night Sky, who is my Goddess. Around those things, I built a long and complicated cycle of silence and prayer.

And then suddenly, sometime in February, I think, I started dancing. My morning practice shifted from a long written meditation to a seated prayer to this new thing: a morning dance. I take my shamanic rattles out into the garden and dance and chant whatever comes to me. I acknowledge the directions and the weather. I pray to Spirit. I dance out my feelings and my dreams. And it is the best thing I have ever done for myself.

The dance is a way to express myself through movement and sound that had been waiting to come in for some time. I have been told I should dance so many times in so many ways and never actually did it. Living in suburbia, there are a lot of reasons why I wouldn’t want to go outside and make noises and look silly. But eventually I just gave in to the need to do so. I needed to find a way to work with my stuff, whether that is emotional upheaval, anxiety, or the messages of my dreams. And this way really works for me.

The dialogue with Spirit became even more powerful when I integrated this dance with my evening practice. The main aim for my evening practice is to identify with the Night Sky and ‘just be’ in her eternal silent dance. But after that I ask for some guidance from the tarot or any other divination deck I happen to be working with. I ask it a question relating to my journey through the Year. Last Moon I asked it: what is the seed of my maturity? It gave me VIII Strength. So I meditated on strength for a while. And when I went to bed, I asked my dreams to show me my strength.

I dreamt of a wise Native American elder, in the present day, who served his people by sitting with them in their community centre and chatting with them. He was the picture of quiet strength, and the answer to my question. I then took him to my morning dance and asked him to teach me. He showed me how his strength came from staying connected to his powers that came from all directions. So I danced with mine.

My dreams are not always that obviously connected to the question I ask. And most of the time I don’t even remember my dreams. But then I can take the question to the dance, or just dance whatever comes up that morning. When I dance a difficulty, I allow it its expression and then ask my spirits to transform it. And they do.

This dialogue cycle is really powerful for me. It teaches and sustains me. It gives me an opportunity to work with the images that come out of my life and my dreams. It allows me to express emotions that I would otherwise push away, and then to transform and heal them. It is a beautiful thing.

I know you have many excuses why you can’t possibly do this. You can’t sing, you’re afraid of what the neighbours will think, you haven’t got the energy to dance, etc. Just do it anyway. It is so worth it. I can’t sing or dance to save my life, but the spirits seem to be happy with my offering. The neighbours don’t seem to mind, either. Because of this practice I feel connected to all things on the Web of Life, and filled with the power of the Universe. I don’t need any other reason.

It’s like no place on earth. And in a way it isn’t on earth. OBOD camps happen in that magical in-between-time and place-outside-place. A lot of magic happens there.

One reason why OBOD camp is not on earth is that it’s invisible. For 48 weeks in the year, there is just a field, with cows or sheep grazing in it. And then suddenly, for the other 4 weeks, it is a hive of activity, with up to 200 people at a time living their lives in this one field, in the knowledge of justice and the love of it.

It is acknowledged as a magical place by the people who go there. They pass in through the gate, a special place of transition held by a priest of amazing patience and integrity. He welcomes all who pass through the gate with a hug and a cup of tea, and a little time to leave the ‘real world’ behind. And when they leave, people go through the gate the other way.

This makes camp a protected place. I am safe there. Everyone’s uniqueness is honoured and encouraged. Everyone’s beauty is allowed to shine. And because of that protection, most of us soon find our strength. The great thing is that you are allowed to expand and take up all your natural space there, and nobody will tear you down. In my case, my natural space is hundreds of times bigger than the space I usually take up in the ‘real world’. But people understand this. And they also understand that most of us, however brightly we allow ourselves to shine in this magical community, most of us are still carrying around that small, vulnerable part of themselves that is so fragile. And that, too, is protected.

We learn a lot from each other. Workshops give us the opportunity to explore ways of working with spirit that are new to us, and increase our knowledge. But they also give us a chance to work closely with each other. This is what makes the week of camp into a spiritual journey, and it is amazing how a thread runs through it, from workshop to fireside conversation to shamanic work and back again.

OBOD camp was the place where I first learned the meaning of the words in the druid prayer: “and in knowledge the knowledge of justice”. The first time at camp I only went for a few days, not knowing what to expect. And for the first time in my life I found that I wanted to be with people. Even after three whole days, I still didn’t want to be on my own. I wanted to be sitting around the fire chatting with people. I wanted to be part of the community. And sitting around that fire, I saw how everyone was valued for their own sake. I saw how we were all connected, and how we were all connected to the land we were living on for that time. That web of connections and interdependencies is, to me, justice in its truest form. And I love being in that connection. In fact, I need to be in that connection all of the time, especially out here in the ‘real world’. It keeps me in my true shape and size.

Oh I know it isn’t all ideal. This year I saw more of the politics that I would like. We’re all human after all, and we have our conflicts. And none of us are that great at dealing with conflict, when it comes down to it. But still I felt held in that web of people, and in the web of connections with all things. On the last day, a little spider crawled up my arm and across my chest. I left it to its journey: I felt I had become part of the land, a patch of earth just like the land.

For a brief time, at OBOD camp, we see Spirit and goodness in each other. And for a brief time after we get back to this place which allegedly is the real world, we manage to see Spirit and goodness in all beings. I hope that this time I will be able to carry all of that with me, all the cuddles and the compliments and the validation. And remember one of the best compliments I have ever received: “You are a superbabe”.