One nation, two worlds

I don’t think the comfortable but rapidly diminishing middle classes really want to see the poor made poorer, or to gain particularly at their expense. They just believe, albeit very mistakenly, that there’s not enough to go round so they think they’re protecting their interests. They have swallowed the snake oil argument that says this is the way the world works so this is the way it must continue to work. They don’t really know if the poor are ‘undeserving’ but the notion of it soothes conscience and provides convenient justification to instincts, ambitions and actions.

This must not endure. It’s entropic and we all know it, whether consciously or by that nagging discomfort deep in the pits of our stomachs. Actually, we know it literally cannot endure because, if it does, its prognosis will look like a scene from Kozintsev. The plenty-rich-enough really will have to live in gated, high security communities with helicopter pads and armed escorts for exit because the outside world – the real world – will be ruthless, hostile and just a tad lawless. The nightmares portrayed by science fiction all set to become fast approaching realities as the abandoned become increasingly destitute in ever greater number.

We already talk, in jest and seriousness, about the other planet that the 0.1-1% inhabits but really, today’s grimmest quality of life will seem like an aspiration if we don’t get a grip of our leaders and their bloody and bloodied interests. We truly will have two worlds: one with all the good food, clean water, reliable energy, effective medicine, education and technology (for a while anyway); the other: the dehumanising beg-steal-and-make-do environment of arcane feudalism, replete with all its arbitrary day-to-day precariousness.

Right! Melodramatic mini rant over! Back to being forever open and on the alert for all pockets of light and hope…

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Quickening

The turmoil born of humanity’s pathetic and sordid power games has fed upon itself for centuries so that we have become like a boil upon the face of the earth. We are near to bursting with the pressure of what we have done to each other, the planet and all Nature’s kingdoms and I find myself impatient for the pop. I tell myself that only then can we begin to heal; that, despite the spectacular enormity of the journey before us all and in spite of sporadic wobbles over detail, the quickest, cleanest way to the other side is straight through. There will be scars, I know and we can’t predict what the other side will look like but Humanity’s Highest Self cries out for the evolution of heart and mind and, thereby, its destiny. We have no choice: Human consciousness seeks elevation.

People are stirring. The veils being lifted reveal the shadowy pieces of our puzzle and the whole dark picture emerges. This is a gift: Light shining on leadership, institutions and systems with such intensity as to blind the gaze of the unsuspecting and the would-be ostrich. There is little comfort in being among the first or the last to comprehend the interconnectedness of all our woes, or in embracing the interconnected nature of their solutions. It doesn’t matter because we can’t step up and forward into new states of being and doing until sufficient numbers force the tide. It’s a frustrating and often stressful waiting game of course, but, impatient as I and many may be, each soul can only move when it is ready. No one can ignore a constant headache indefinitely though and, since events are exponential and time is accelerating, I believe we are finally approaching that critical mass.

People are waking. The infrasound of dis-ease has shortened its frequency to an audible pitch. No longer can awareness sleep in the unconscious nor hide in the subconscious. No more settling; no more the status quo. The quickening cannot be circumvented or abated. Such energy has its own momentum and becomes an inevitable force for change. The world wakes! Demands voice and balm…

Love the NHS

I love the NHS for, at its best,

It’s mother’s care expressed

As comfort to distress by pain

And sickness suffered;

Seeks no gain but succour for the

Ills of brain and body through its deft

And healing hands;

For every year I spend

Upon this land:

Calms fears, dries tears

And mends.

From volunteer to high-paid surgeon,

Public servants,

Ever best,

Are pressured to do more with less

By greedy leaders who,

Like dirty scalpels,

Leave them bleeding

From the wounds of profit’s mess.

I grieve to see my country’s wealth

Reflected by such poorly health

For lack of wisdom and respect

For my beloved NHS.

I don’t know about you but…

I don’t know about you but my anger grows bigger than any fear of the State. That’s not to say that I’m not nervous – a little apprehensive in these precarious times. But Christ! If being angry about corporatised politics and economic malfeasance are to be viewed as a threat to my own or another government; if being disturbed by my government’s or another’s need to capture my mind is perceived as unreasonable; if I am to be restricted in my civil and natural liberties because I may destabilise the ‘Top Table’… If such things are to be considered as dangerous dissent rather than democratic comment; if that makes me an enemy of the State – of my own country…

We live in precarious times. I’m not going to reel off a detailed list. If you’re awake, you know what the themes of common grievance are. I’m not alone. People and Peoples throughout the human world are agitated, many, to the point of desperation. Some, through fear, denial, self-preservation – whatever – do nothing. They go about their daily lives as best they can and I get that, after all: reconciling one’s short-term and long-term prognoses are tricksy features of conscious living.

Others, in mercifully growing numbers, rail loudly in physical and etheric throngs, against all manner of Common and localised injustices. Some groups and individuals are ‘known’ in their home nations while a few – remarkably few, are globally famous and infamous.

I’m not. I’m not an important or public person with any particular influence. I’m not writing this as some fabulously brave journalist or whistleblower. I am a mere minnow in the grander scheme and I’m not sure if that makes me more or less secure, but it’s my world too and I’m damned if I’m going to be cowed into self-censorship for a Government’s sake.

I believe in the freedom to think and speak freely. It’s a symptom of Free Will that, despite Man’s best efforts, still exists on the higher levels of my psyche. It isn’t a man-made right, but a biological benefit of brain. It is a divine and therefore sacred right, of my soul, if you please.

I don’t incite in any dark meaning of the word. I am not a terrorist. I am not predisposed to physical violence. I’m not an extremist. I’m not a traitor under any law, Natural or Man-made. In fact, I spend my life observing and processing my polarised views in order to walk with strength and Grace upon Reconciliation’s path. I don’t seek personal advantage at the expense of another and I would rather melt than deliberately manipulate the Free Will of others. I’m certainly not a bad person just because I’m cross. No, dear Reader – I’m just alive and awake.

So, if any person, company or so-called Authority thinks to have jurisdiction and to take action in reliance on the fragmented contents of my mind, they are seriously misguided. If I let the staff intimidate me into submission then I will be a shallower, hollowed person: I will have betrayed myself.

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In precarious times such as these…

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