“At one point, he held up an inflatable doll with an erection, dressed like a bee." From orgasmic laugh yoga to shamanic drumming for Mother Earth, here’s what really happens at Glastonbury Festival beyond the music

At the top of Glastonbury sits a striking modern age stone circle, built in 1992 to represent the festival’s pagan roots and its connection to Stonehenge and the summer solstice. On Wednesday evening, thousands of people gathered at dusk around the newly sacred site, chanting the mantra ‘aaummmmmm’ out over the hill, before outstretching their arms, and spreading peace to each of the cardinal points whilst in song. “Peace to the eaaaast!”

In true Glastonbury tradition, the mass meditation was led by respected spiritual leaders from various Earth-based religions who were there to call for unity, peace and love at the Green Fields opening ceremony. Hanging in the sky were women in long white gowns, seemingly levitating (hoisted on thin bendy stilts) and flying around like witches in the dark. Later, the event’s Flame Of Hope ritual reached its apex, which saw 15 sacred flames from spiritual sites across the globe, including Glastonbury, Hiroshima, Mount Sinai and Stonehenge, combined in one single fire in a burning of a giant, wooden effigy.

It’s a powerful moment, one that feels worlds away from the celebrity-spotting, BBC-televised prestige that has come to overshadow the festival’s earthy core. Glastonbury Festival is a place of community, and it’s a fundamental reason as to why I regard it as such a special place; not because of the legendary musicians or glamorous performances, or the fact it’s the place everyone wants to be every June, but because it’s a hub full of like-minded individuals who can feel and understand the magic behind it all.

Over the weekend, Glastonbury hosts a number of activities, workshops and talks that carry this sense of community and peaceful spirit, and this year, I decided to partake in as many of them as I possibly could to showcase the best of what the festival has to offer from deep inside its weird and whimsical rabbit hole. From orgasmic laugh-yoga to divination, here’s some of the things I got up to…

Robin Ince’s poetry of the cosmos is both hilarious and unifying

Situated in Green Futures - an eco-focused field full of stalls and exhibits advocating for green living, permaculture and sustainability - is the laboratory stage, which hosts a number of interactive science shows and panels. Robin Ince, co-host behind the BBC radio show The Infinite Monkey Cage with physicist Brian Cox, appeared there for one of seven appearances across the weekend, performing a selection of his anxiety-quashing cosmic poetry. From pondering the complexities of the night sky, giving the middle finger to “alpha male” Andrew Tate to celebrating environmental hero Greta Thunberg, the comedian/writer put the world to rights and received a tent full of laughs with his quick wit and hilarious prose.

I paid £20 for the best massage of my life

While I’m sure attending Glastonbury’s nudist spa would have made for a much better story, I decided I wasn’t quite ready to get naked with strangers, and went for a simple massage. In a yurt busy with specialists offering an array of services, from deep tissue or Thai message, reiki, natural facelifts and panic healing, I opted for a back and shoulder treatment, to try rid the pain caused from sleeping on the grass for multiple days after forgetting my camp mat. As I was rubbed down in oil, I kept one eye open, watching the circle of aching revellers united in their pain, as energetic and physical healers waved their arms in powerful motions or knuckled down into knot-clogged backs.

Wise women instilled me with hope and made me look at my life differently

Bouncing with energy after my nourishing massage, I sought after the talented divination practitioners in the healing field, many of whom had been working at the festival for multiple decades. Whether you believe in this sort of thing or not, having your inner world and future analysed is a grounding, powerful experience. Each of my sessions instilled me with a renewed sense of hope, and made me feel less anxious about entering the next stage of life: my 30s.

My oracle reader, who I became quick friends with and later ended up playing Norwegian drinking games with over bottles of mead in her tent on the final night, was a lovely, deeply knowledgeable woman, and suggested I talk to her friend, who offered me an intense tarot reading. We discussed my late father, future plans, and I came away with the long-needed understanding that after such a turbulent time, things might just be okay.

Who needs dignity in an 80s flash dance mob?

When your legs, back, arms, face, liver etc hurt, but you still have the energy to get involved in a session of 80s aerobics, that’s the spirit of Glastonbury pulling you in, your nervousness over looking like a nut doing a choreographed dance surrounded by strangers to Chic’s Le Freak suddenly dissipating. Under the guidance of a latex-clad instructor, I learnt some gloriously cheesy dance moves, before leaving the hut with the rest of the troupe to show our performance in a giant flash mob to the rest of the festival.

Speed-mating with the mushroom man

Shortly after the aerobics, I engaged in a round of ‘speed-mating’, where, like speed-dating, you make new connections at a turbo pace. Hosted by a man dressed like a mushroom, we ran around the space as we divided ourselves into groups defined by who did/didn’t like marmite, who had or hadn’t snogged someone at the festival, and who was going to see Charlie XCX.

Then, standing around in a circle, we were connected by a line of rope, there to represent the mycelium network that connects the natural world, and in that moment, us to all the other festival goers. We also discussed cooking recipes. Top tip: put marmite in spaghetti bolognese. It’s delicious!

I learnt that you can identify bees by measuring their genitals

Back over at the laboratory stage, I decided to attend a workshop about collecting insects run by a man known as ‘the bee wizard’. I have no intention on amassing bugs, but naturally, I was curious, and was interested to know about why we should “care about the creepy crawly things on the floor”, as well as the preservation of their tiny world.

At one point, the scientist held up an inflatable doll with an erect penis, dressed like a bee with a wizard hat, and took out a measuring tape. Apparently, you can identify different species by measuring their genitals. The more you know.

Shamanic drumming for Mother Earth

“There aren’t musical instruments”, declares a hippieish-looking woman in a round yurt. “These are magical tools”. Bashing on loud hide-skin drums is the last thing many people would want to do when nursing a hangover, but this writer was determined to partake in as many new things as possible. Shamanic drumming is an ancient practice, used for spiritual connection and healing.

After being cleansed by smoke, I joined in a group meditation, setting our intention for the session - protection for Mother Earth and the sacred, ley-lined land of Glastonbury - as we began to sway around the room, hitting drums in various rhythms and shaking maracas. Whilst it did kind of remind me of being in music class at school, it felt enlivening to do something more out of the ordinary.

Laughter yoga is the most bonkers thing I’ve ever done - and I’d do it again

Described by previous partakers as “better than an orgasm”, laughter yoga combines playful laughter exercises with yogic breathing techniques and mindfulness. The instructor also warned us that it’s just as physically demanding as a 5k run. Whether that was true or not, I wasn’t bothered; I was more wary of the fact I was about to have to awkwardly fake laugh in a dome full of strangers. My fear, however, was nonsensical, as fake laughter gives way to real, belly-hurting laughter, and after running around the room, being forced to make eye contact with every passing person while doing different styles of laughter - from mischievous to full-on cackles, I was in hysterics.

The best part was lying on the floor, engaging in what is known as a “laughter fountain”, where giggles burst from your body over and over, lasting for 20 minutes. I laughed so much I cried all my makeup off. As the mad-hatter yoga guru and part-time clown told us, laughter really is the best medicine, and I came away with a total buzz that lasted for the remainder of the day. Bonkers, but that’s Glastonbury.