Heads at the Little Big Farm. 2.
1984. Flower in the Desert.
“After a time, there grew the feeling that it would be necessary to put The Strong Message into The Really Heavy Now. This would require an attractive cover and the dedicated action of an individual to make the remarkable journey.”
Konsk. Beginnings 4.7
There is the experience of flowering.
Here is what is happening; there’s petal-bursting, pushing open, green cradle, insect calling, heady scent, wide sky and yellow big-light over, sun drinking, indie witness, wonder overflowing. All very cool and lovely. Then like a stamping drum, drumming feet on hard ground, rise of shouting voice, raging, angry. Very angry!
There is a separation.
This is what happens; Learner is suddenly brought to remember himself. He remembers his little body, turns from the lonely plant (a coltsfoot, though he does not know it by such a label) that pushes upward through the hard surface by the black circle of a device (that is, the front tyre of a motorbike, though he knows not these words for it).
The voice looms loud and he already knows who and what and the necessary response, already turning away and loping, even though the burdens flop about him and encumber his movements. As the voice makes its closest approach he takes the last look over his right shoulder, assesses the swinging boot precisely and allows a slight stumble in his run, sufficient to sway him away from the kick. Then he's off and the dark one with the heavy voice, wearer of the preserved skins of animals, slows and stands cursing, arms waving like the pissed off, red-arsed tree climber.
“Fuckin’ twat bastard!” This dark one roars.
Learner makes good his escape. There's the usual flutter of excitement that he has a little laugh about. That one in black gets angry so easily, so quickly! Learner still fails to understand the reason or meaning behind these actions, these sudden bursts of violence. It is not that violence is unfamiliar to him, for he has tasted death and destruction on many occasions.
He is drawn to consider that one consequence of The Separation in The Really Heavy Now is to generate opposites and thus violence may be elevated and made paramount in apparent isolation from its lost sister who is now buried deeply in the back of the head.
So it is with the dark one who wears anger like a mask on his face and wields violence like the long blade of the metal workers’ warrior. Hence Learner has made certain to stay beyond his reach, even though he could kill him easily if he considered it necessary, which he does not. Also, he knows him, though not in this form.
One of the burdens has come loose and slipped down the relaxed, low curve of his shoulder. Because of the rounding of his posture and the growing fluidity of his movements, despite the unfamiliar new body, the clothing tends to slide off if he moves too quickly. This is not helped by the fact that he does not fully understand the purpose or operation of all the garments and their various fastenings. He is not used to wearing clothes at all, nor even aware that this is what they are called.
Although he can recognise some of the materials in the sense that they have been derived from plants (he can smell them) others are completely unknown to him. These rub at his skin, raising red lumps and spots or producing an unpleasant aura that crackles if he removes them too quickly; removing them before the reflector, back in the cave that is not a cave, in the darkness, he has watched the play of light, like tiny flashes of lightning in a storm, a blue flickering over his chest.
He would rather not bother with them at all, except perhaps the small garment that goes underneath everything and covers his trusty wand. He likes the pattern, a yellow sun disk with a smiling face. However, he had became aware quickly that it was best to carry the other burdens on his body as well.
On the first occasion when he had failed to do so, he was most surprised by the consternation this had caused amongst those who saw him. Some had demonstrated amusement, wearing laughing faces that he was delighted to see. Many others however appeared to fall into varying states of panic, from mild to intense. Worse still, there were those who had manifested angry attitudes and even pretended to threaten violence. He had thus drawn considerable attention to himself, something that the family had suggested strenuously he avoid.
So now Learner gathers himself together, aware of more of these many others around him, thicker on the ground in the area to which he has fled. Extra care, is the feeling.
So he forces his posture to mimic theirs, pushing his head forward and stiffening his limbs. He clenches his shoulder blades, drawing them up towards his ears, pulls in his relaxed belly and adopts the toppling gait where you have to hurry to keep up with your head. It hurts and is so ungainly!
He alters his speed and direction to avoid collisions, sometimes too rapidly for these others. A truly ancient one with lined face and peculiar decorative attachments shining over the eyes, dives so fast to the ground it is as though he is trying to catch a small bird or crawling creature.
Learner cannot see a bird or creature and at first thinks that the old one is making a great joke; he shows his appreciation, laughs loudly, slapping the course material covering his legs. Others are not impressed at this response and put on masks of astonished resentment and disgust. Quickly he helps the old one to his feet then filters away through the bodies.
Then, for a moment and moments, he plays an old game with a woman, both pretending to pass each other to the same side. Learner plays the game up to his count of five but the woman appears to wish to continue. He obliges, acknowledging her convincing look of frustration with a deep belly laugh.
At some point he tires of this and nips passed her; it is an old game, after all, that he has played many times before, particularly with the young members of the family. He sees no attraction in continuing it, even if it is important to her. There are many others here to play the game with, if that is what she really wants.
Learner has numerous memories of this old game and recalls Twm playing it with him. The memory is framed by a vision of the green of forest and is suffused with a sense of home, well-being and contentment. He allows himself to feel the loss briefly. Tears run down his cheeks, even though he already knows that such expression is not considered appropriate in The Really Heavy Now. Again, attention is drawn to him, but this time more subtly; the indies who notice his tears stare hard at first then jerk their gaze away, pushing down their own hurts.
By now he is more familiar with the pattern of movement in these busy sections. The many others scurry along the raised sides of the open spaces, wrapped in a huge variety of encumbrances and clutching many additional burdens. Occasionally they veer suddenly out, crossing from one raised side to the other, dashing between the moving containers.
Learner well knows the bray of such devices and the gestures that may result from either or both the indies involved; he has been practising these before the reflector. Sometimes they shout loudly at one another also, wearing angry, pissed off faces. Some of the words he recognises for he has heard them from Erak before making his great journey.
Erak warned him of the moving containers also, of their noise and stink; all different in their size, shape and colour, yet all the same in that they reek of poison. Learner cannot believe that the many others should choose to walk in such close proximity to these moving containers that belch and fart out their disgusting products for all to breath. At first he clung shaking to a stone tree trunk, gazing in horror on the appalling sight of such an obvious display of madness, until a passing man threw an amulet at him. Accepting the offering as a message to take courage, Learner had moved out into the throng to partake in the activities of The Really Heavy Now.
They are also all the same in that they contribute their individual noises to a vast collective roar that resounds from the enclosing, tall structures. Even in areas where there are none of the moving containers, their combined voices can still be heard as a constant dismal droning. Even in the time of darkness, seldom does a moment arise when he cannot discern their drawn out shouts.
Though it all still terrifies him, he is able to temporarily control the fear through the active use of his separation; he simply makes the fear separate from himself, something that does not really belong to him and just stashes it all in a pretend cave in the back of his head.
He sniggers at the words that describe this, although part of him is very distressed by it; he is very distressed by it because it teaches him two important things about the many others in this Really Heavy Now. The first thing it teaches him is that all of these many others must be using this ploy in one form or another in order to fake sanity. The second thing is that he knows it cannot really work for long; at some point all the fear and hurt must come out.
He pauses a moment and turns away from the moving containers to look into the surrounding structures. At present, neither the enclosing structure nor the many, mysterious objects within, divided from him by the hard transparent material, are of the slightest interest to Learner. From previous observations he has concluded that while standing motionless, thus, staring into such a structure, it is unlikely that he will be approached, therefore he finds it useful for being temporarily alone.
He begins an attempt to use the word system of thinking; he starts with the word purpose which seems particularly relevant here and now and initiates the mechanical process of association through the operation of memory. He has to say the words out loud, whispering them but moving his lips as little as possible so as not to draw attention to himself.
“Porpoise,” he begins, pronouncing as best he can with the new mouth.
“String massage, intelligentleman one, stricture,” he begins and is almost pleased with himself but the words continue to come, faster and faster, “E-gigantic container, cave on a outside, dark voice all shouty, little Indie confusion, oh, hoppy hippo, getting cross he is, screamy toob, hurts! Hurts! What’s he doin’? What’s he upto? Need help, ain’t none, not nun, no, not nun, no, all allone!”
Thus the little flow hastens to a babble, falls over itself with an edge of hysteria such that he clenches his mind and squeezes the words to a stop, shaking.
Now he is tempted to let the separation slip but knows it would not be appropriate, for he would have to release the terror if he did and he is aware that the surrounding indies are frighteningly ill-equipped to handle this experience, preoccupied as they are with hiding their own displaced hurts.
So instead he puts his attention into the feeling of going slowly, taking it easy. He relaxes, allows the enforced posture to slip a little. He wipes his hands across the bald pate of skull, momentarily surprised, again, at the lack of hair.
“B’gin ag’in,” he manages to say, forcing the words to come more slowly, “Porpoise, purpose, string massage, strong Message! Intel, gentry, intelligentry won, intelligent one! Ah ha!
That will have to do, for now. He grins, having forgotten that this was his purpose; he is amazed that in this now he can forget stuff so quickly and so often!
“Sling a hook, doh!” He says with a mock groan, copying the dreaming Erak and slapping a hand to his forehead.
Then Learner looks around him, at all the many indies rushing in their busy-ness, smells the stink of poisons, hears the roars and grumbles of the moving containers, the shouts and cries and he shrinks within himself before the great madness of it all.
“But now wot?” He asks, of no one, in vain. “Now wot?”
Many thanks for reading. Here ends this first batch of chapters in Heads At The Little Big Farm. More to follow but next (I think!) a return to The Real Coed Y Benin and its early history- after the ice, the trees and there are two competing theories of how that occurred but are they really competing? We shall see. Till then, hwyl! Chris.