From Rhyd Wildermuth

The woods on a day like today are gloomy. The air is damp and cold, the sky a blanket of grey, making everything seem darker despite the early hour. And yet this is needed. I enjoy the festive period, the sparkle and glow of it all, the food, the drink and the merry making with my nearest and dearest and yet sometimes I just need this. The cold damp air on my face. The scent of the forest. The sound of the birds and the trees, of twigs snapping underfoot.

As the new year becomes something more real and tangible, I say we take the feelings of goodwill, merriment and joy that is plentiful at this time and take it into the future. I say we become Lords of Misrule, taking that which does not serve us, that which oppresses us and strangles us all and smash it to pieces. I say we become as the Lord of Misrule and seize back the power that we all have.

Roman priests knew the same truth psychotherapists know: deep desires and ancient drives cannot simply be consigned to the underworld. Sublimated urges live on still, quake through the illusory stability of our society, and resurface again to manifest their wills.

Roman priests knew the same truth psychotherapists know: deep desires and ancient drives cannot simply be consigned to the underworld. Sublimated urges live on still, quake through the illusory stability of our society, and resurface again to manifest their wills.

“they are going to create sports pitches and even a wildlife area. A fecking wildlife area!  As if the wildlife isn't already there.”