I tried Russell Brand’s alcohol free festival – it changed my outlook for good
“One more time? How about ten more times? Let’s all get high!” declares a sober Russell Brand on the main stage at his Community Festival, conducting a breathing exercise to a crowd of thousands which is so mind-bending that people frequently collapse.
Medics are on hand as Brand stands centre stage. Alongside him is the musician Charlotte Church, and throwing his hands in the air, he prepares to perform another round of the hedonistic ritual. Brand has been sober for 20 years and has by now become an expert in getting his kicks the natural way.
Wary, I follow the instructor, breathing in, then out again, filling my belly with more and more air each time, until on the fourth breath I gasp to bring in as much oxygen as possible, then look up to the sky. I feel an ecstatic type of high that I cannot believe is not only legal, but not damaging, and possible with the use of just breath.
This is the premise of Brand’s Community Festival in Hay-on-Wye: to show another side to hedonism and festival culture that needn’t hurt your body. This is for grown-ups that possibly went too hard and want to find another way.
Later, my pal convinces me to try a male talking circle where I form a group with five other men to discuss what masculinity means today. We have five minutes each to open up to one another; there are decades between us in age but we have come to this glorious and verdant part of Wales to find commonality. We talk without judgement, sharing stories and experiences, and even in such a short time window, I find myself being more open than I thought I could possibly be with strangers.
Fully softened up by now, by being surrounded by so many people who seem to have more time to chat without the distraction of the bar, I go to a class about touch and intimacy, and learn how to give myself a hug by placing my right arm over my heart and my left arm onto my right shoulder. Under canvas, a few hundred of us stand in this position for a good few minutes, and although I’m typically self-conscious, I found myself mostly managing to keep my eyes closed and experience the feeling of embracing myself. Later, a man who spent two years walking around the world with no money says some heartening things about humankind and our innate predisposition to love.
At the risk of drifting into hyperbole, Community Festival changed me fundamentally. Don’t get me wrong: I will go to another festival later this summer and I will drink, and I will likely drink way too much. But now into my thirties, it felt like time to try another way of letting loose.
The truth is it felt incredibly freeing that there wasn’t a bar looming in the background of every stage. When no one is drinking, you sort of adapt to the situation, and I’ve found that after so long drinking it ends up feeling perversely more rogue to not have a drink than it does to have one. It was even more freeing to move beyond the culture of doing rounds, which at a festival is a norm you can get stuck in from midday to well past midnight.
Russell Brand, wandering the festival and hugging attendees, was told by hundreds how his approach had changed their lives. I can see why.
Community festival by Laura and Russell Brand returns next year; russellbrand.com/community
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