Q-CHAPS - an origin story: The Green Man

Part 1: The prelude

The protest camp had been in place throughout the winter and was looking somewhat worse for wear. The forest floor was originally a mass of leaf litter which covered the bare soil, this had turned into mud under the boots of the protestors so the most heavily trafficked areas had become a quagmire.

Jack was sitting at a fire on which a pot of nettle tea was infusing in a battered aluminium kettle. Wearing army surplus trousers and knitted green sweater his dreadlocks spilled down around a weather-beaten bearded face.

His girlfriend Rhiannon sat down beside him. 'I hear that the bailiffs are coming tomorrow. The woman in manor Cottage said she had heard people talking at the post office.'

'Are we certain enough to notify the media at this stage?' he said.

'Yes, we knew there would be a showdown about now. All the equipment has arrived and the eviction notice expired only last week.' He got out a mobile phone, an old Nokia 3310 with cracked screen, and started writing a text message to tip off the media.

'We are certainly not going to be a pushover,' said Rhiannon. 'The tunnel dwellers have enough food to survive a fortnight and there are enough volunteers in the trees to prevent felling over nearly in acre.'

'You think we can deny that much of the woodland to the cutters?' asked Jack.

'Easily. Remember that you cannot fell trees if there are neighbouring ones that are occupied, on health and safety grounds. It's all about picking the right ones to tie oneself onto so none of the unoccupied ones are safe to fell.'

Jack offered Rhiannon a mug of the nettle tea. Like warriors on the eve of battle, they sat in silence a while as the acrid smelling woodsmoke from the damp fuel they had scavenged curled around the forest clearing.

'I feel ready,' said Jack. 'What will be will be. All that matters is that I was there when the time was right to make a stand. And I have felt strangely alive since coming to the forest. As if my consciousness has somehow expanded through the trees, like I feel what they feel. It must sound weird, I know, but this has been a spiritual journey in which I have grown as a person.'

'More like a journey of smoking too much dope,' taunted Rhiannon. 'Perhaps you need to lay of that stuff going forward. 'We need you sharp tomorrow if that's when the bailiffs are coming.'

'I guess we will all need to sleep in our clothes ready for them to arrive at any time,' said Jack, returning to more practical matters. 'Who is on watch?'

'George will be on the graveyard shift and Krystal will do the sunrise.'

Already the daylight had slipped away. The camp was small, only a couple of dozen people were about and many were turning in to their tents. Jack and Rhiannon watched the fire again in silence. They were all too aware of the sounds of the camp around them. Perhaps this would be their last night here. Perhaps it would be their last night together for some time.

Eventually the fire had burned down to embers and the night chill was setting in. Rhiannon got up.

'I'm turning in. You coming?'

'In a moment. I just want to meditate a while.'

In the peace of the woodland, he sat back in the garden chair and focussed on himself and his own breathing. Gradually his consciousness expanded to take in the sounds of the other protestors in groups talking round their fires, and then the trees themselves. He focussed on one tree. He felt his focus rising through the wood of the trunk, along the branches, into the twigs ind leaves as though it were an extension of his own fingers. This had become a regular meditation since he had felt this spiritual connection for the first time mid way through the winter. Now he was more adept. Not only that but he also sensed that the trees were more vital - it was around the equinox and the sap was rising through the wood and the buds getting ready to spring forth. And something else was making them even more vital. Yes, the moon! It would be full in a nights time and was also speeding the sap through the wood.

...And now his mind was descending into the ground as he focussed his consciousness into his legs, feet and toes - or were they roots? It spread out into the very soil and he realised he was not alone as his mind encountered others - the neighbouring trees. Soon the concentration became too much and he dwelt a while on the flow of energy and matter through the woodland ecosystem awhile before his mind drifted back into his body.

'Thank you trees for letting me share your consciousness,' he said softly as his hands fumbled around his pockets instinctively in search of the tobacco tin. Realising what Rhinnon had said earlier he checked himself. Maybe it would be better to miss his last joint of the day this time. By the morning he should know whether there would-be a defence of the forest that day.