Village Life, for a Week-End

A warmest evening to ye, mortals! I spent the week-end away in a more Northerly clime, & would share my reflections with thee.

I spent Saturday & most of Sunday in the company of a band of Renaissance faire mortals, encamped upon a most intriguing island—essentially dug out of the river, by hand, building up levees o’er a century & a half ago. A testament to mortal ingenuity.

Upon arrival, unbidden, my camp-mates sallied forth to unload my waggon, & pitch the tent. I stowed my equipment, then set out my food, for I had arrived precisely in time for luncheon.

All brought what they could, & took what they wished, with no questions asked nor gazes askance. None fell to greed, & none suffered want. All organized by ourselves, with no chieftain nor boss.

We spent much time a-floating upon the river, sharing ales, speaking of labours & wishes & bees. With none compelled to join, nor criticized for staying ashore. Perfect liberty.

When came time to haul in the rafts, all lent a hand without needing be asked nor ordered. Though there be but one privy & shower in that Eden, we managed to arrange all that were needed without incident. & when supper came due, once again, all hands pitched in according to their ability, & enjoyed according to their desires.

As we shared round after round of rare ales & rare treats, a mountain of beef-steak & all the side-dishes one might imagine, I could not help but wish all mortals could experience such a week-end—& they could! If trillions of dollars were bent toward providing sufficient food & shelter for all, toward reducing work-hours & providing adequate care, toward maintaining the ecosystem & off-setting the negative factors of industry, all mortals could enjoy such a week-end. All deserve leisure, & all are capable of this sort of self-organization.

Those trillions now are spent on war, & data-centres. Why should it be so? Why must ye permit this?

Ye need no bosses, ye need no petty tyrants. All could experience the joys of village life, as thine ancestors did for millennia. Ye need only choose it, need only will it, need only seize it!

One aspect of the evening, though, not all mortals could taste—the UTOPIAS. A most unusual beer, a project of artistry pursued by a corporate entity. A labour of love, & madness; a beer brewed & then transferred from barrel to barrel to barrel, with maximum inefficiency. A testament to mortal hedonism.

Delicious, it was. Unlike anything else e’er have I tasted. The potion costs between two & three hundred of thy Dollars, depending on the year & seller. The process is so complex, & relies upon so many other enterprises, that it cannot be made in sufficient quantity for the whole world…but with greater liberty, & basic needs met, could there not be more mortals who would pursue similar such brewing? More mortals free to create similar artistry? A world of Utopias, nay—but a world of craft, surely.

On Sunday, we again took to the river, & again all hands went to work. Then we cleaned up the camp, stowed gear, set forth food for breakfast & lunch. Again all without a honcho, head nor otherwise. This is the true way to live—all with their shoulders to the wheel, & all with their hands unto the feast. Ye knew how to live this way, once—& only kings lived elsewise. & some still live this way, e’en if only at special times in the year.

With all the shadows looming, mortals, ye must build the communities ye need, as soon as ye can. There is a better way to be, if ye grasp it.

On the final leg of my journey, I visited with Frank & Photo-Mom, to celebrate Frank’s birthing-day. Another place of sharing & love—& there too, I acquired a new treasure:

An actual round tuit—that is to say, I finally indeed “got a round tuit.” & thus I am empowered more than before…

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Wednesday with news of this week’s episode—CYNTHIA RETURNETH! Let the excitement BUILD NOW. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & consider the village…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Utopias-Taster