September 30, 2019 · 1:31 pm
Angelus Novus, Klee
We’ve been living through metaphorical dark moon years, with debris stirred up from deep, and yet, when brave souls explore the confusion in such times, sharp beams break through cracks in the mud.
Wars fought over territories and resources have become wars over ideologies and identity. The internet intensifies clashing ideas, and where free speech is allowed, arguments find air. Whose side to take, where to place oneself – left, right, center, past, present, future? Peace- loving citizens are challenged. Does one go numb, angry, self-righteous, or suffer confusion? Are they defensive reactions to the cacophony of voices struggling for attention? Some shout, some play clever games, some share information, true or false, and others offer sharp insights, be it through anguish, sincerity, passion or irony.
Marina Hyde from the Guardian does the latter, with anguish, sincerity, passion and, most of all, irony. Conflict inspires the search for her truth. Like a martial artist, she uses words that dance without hesitation, in swift, spirited and glittering moves. The new moon a few days ago brought a dazzling peace of her journalism, a laser glance at recent politics. Marina’s dark irony brightened my confused and deflated mood – because she speaks to the truth.
Marina Hyde – her bit on Dominic Cummings
… using words my mother would never have …
cathartic therapy, Sufi style
It’s of course useless, and mostly counterproductive, to blame or dispense anger about ideologies on particular people or nations.
Far better to release the rage by smashing up old cars, as my former Sufi teacher, Fazal Inayat-Khan, encouraged us to do. But who has such novel opportunity? For now, we’re in this storm blowing from paradise together.
Nationalism is the pathology of modern developmental history as inevitable as neurosis in the individual. – Tom Nairn, The Break-Up of Britain
Relevant, my post on nationalism from April 2012 … here is everywhere …
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Tagged as Angelus Novus, anger, anguish, awareness, blame, Britain, cathartic therapy, conflict, dark moon, Fazal Inayat-Khan, Guardian, ideologies, insight, irony, journalism, Marina Hyde, martial art, metaphors, nationalism, new moon, passion, Paul Klee, politics, sincerity, Tom Nairn
February 6, 2017 · 12:31 am
Ideas spook the night
Hardly the will of people
Who were told lies & fed
Bizarre facts or fake events
By those who contrived
This fear that rocks the cradle
And will have it swing
In brittle boughs of nothing
They sing while fanning the wind
Of your discontent
I’m flabbergasted by the sheer absurdity of the present political poker games. No use imagining I’m a stranger that landed on this planet by mistake. I’m here – feeling overwhelmed when watching clips that show the hardship refugees endure with slim hopes for building a life, and the helpless helpers who offer support without solutions in sight?
I dream of patches of land or purpose-build islands/ships, where migrants are allowed to build fresh communities and gain self-respect. Where are the pragmatic deals to alleviate this suffering, and the help for countries unable to cope with the influx of people?
Commentaries on events in the wake of the Brexit referendum vote leave me distraught, angry, compassionate, ironic and detached, all at the same time. How to evade the bug of collective despair? Not good, not good at all. I want to shout from the rooftops: read the history of excessive nationalism. Do not – I implore – succumb to fear-mongering.
Today I played my small reed-harmonium in a meditative way, following one note to the next, and the next, forming melancholic rhymes, prolonging and softening notes, the charm a reed-harmonium offers. From a strong upward scale a melody formed. My heart calmed and my mind cleared enough to allow these words to tumble onto the screen.
If I were in full time employment, I’d skim through news, ridicule stuff with colleagues and do what the job at hand required. But since I work from home, in charge of my days, I make space to write – and think – though it goes nowhere, this thinking, other than to ponder the theme of globalisation – a phenomenon long before the term was coined. If time allows click the link to this worthwhile long read.
Insights could be applied to address the hyper race of progress that rewards only short term goals. The main cause for all this mess, in my view. Do away with all benefits and provide everyone with basic income, so people can relax, start innovative & creative community projects, or study, or build a career, whatever. Why not work for the common interests of our shared humanity and celebrate this gift of life? I’m dreaming, I know.
The robins in my garden have more sense. Animals, guests from a wholesome planet.
Other relevant posts:
Here is everywhere …
Perception of difference …
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Tagged as Brexit, cradle, fear, focus, globalisation, humanity, immigration, irony, media, media avalanche, migrants, my novel, nationalism, noise, overwhelmed, poetry, poker games, politics, progress, purpose, robins, Rock-a-bye baby, short term goals, stranger, writing
November 10, 2016 · 12:16 pm
Nationalism is the pathology of modern developmental history as inevitable as neurosis in the individual. – Tom Nairn – ‘The Break-Up of Britain.’
Brexit and Trump have not suddenly happened.
The Pilgrim Fool – Cecil Collins
My generation has been outpaced by the frenzied speed of technological advances for some decades now. Large sections of society lack meaningful vocations and work, small shops and community centers are disappearing, since such places are no longer considered financially viable. Public services in Britain have been sold out. Liberal arts and crafts are reduced to soft and unprofitable educational choices. People have become exploitable commodities and are being gradually deprived of culture. I am reminded of Cecil Collin (1908-1989) and his ‘Vision of the Fool.’ For him, Saints, artists and poets are one with the joy and sorrow of the Fool, in whom the poetic imagination of life lives and coordinates heart-intelligence in human society. A cosmic folly that is present in the person of us, which cannot be exploited because it is above state, class or politics. It’s what I sense in many people I meet, a longing for what has been demeaned as useless – the poetic imagination of the innocent fool.
Western citizens should of course be grateful. We have progress, gadgets, toys – life has never been better. Yet the cornucopia of consumer choices does not replace human relationships, community facilities, lack of housing, lost jobs, lost pensions, does not prevent the gnawing disillusionment that is spreading like a virus, while beneath the impotent silence fester anger and self-destructiveness. When starved of meaning, what tends to make people feel alive, short of war, is upturning the apple cart and watching the unfolding drama.
Britain’s populist Brexit vote was valuable fuel for Donald Trump. He even called himself Mr Brexit – down with cosmopolitanism and multiculturalism – up with nationalism and walls to keep out the alien hordes. Brushing over complex issues with simpleminded slogans resulted in over 50 million Americans to vote on promises to make America great again by a man whose opportunist character will be severely tested by reality. Hopefully the task will mellow his character, and not result in toxic consequences for years to come.
For Britain, and other EU countries, there is yet an opportunity to re-evaluate the cards that have emerged on the public table. The Brexit referendum event gave food for thought, enough to serve the intelligent questioning of what truly lies at the heart of the growing disagreements and dissatisfaction among so-called affluent societies.
I guess I’m not the only one to suffer from Br -exasperation.
Not scapegoating, but a careful analysis is called for – and a constructive participation, with Europe, towards addressing the challenges of our time is what I wish for. The biases in the trail of globalism must be acknowledged and engaged with. The EU, despite massive failings, still offers the bests chance for stability. Turning the clock back is futile. In my view, to support and effectively influence the EU project is the intelligent way forward for Britain.
But is seems the British Parliament hasn’t got the guts to open the real discussion that was never held, and hasn’t got the guts to acknowledge how its senseless policies have allowed injustices and inequalities to heap up. It is utterly hypocritical to blame the results of bad politics on migrants.
Stakes are high. Sanctioning the pathology of nationalistic frenzy could destroy what has been achieved. See the history of Human Rights.
Well, that’s my small voice in the internet wilderness. A post I wrote in 2012 may be relevant:
… here is everywhere …
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Tagged as alien hordes, America, art, artist, borders, Brexasperation, Brexit, British Parliament, Cecil Collins, communal spaces, consciousness, control, craft, creativity, depression, disillusionment, Donald Trump, Europe, fool, globalism, human rights, imagination, loss, meaninglessness, migrants, nationalism, painter, pathology, poet, questions, Saint, technology, The Vision of the Fool, Tom Nairn, vision, vocation