Between a barrier and a boundary
the threshold of Imagination
Between a barrier and a boundary
Between a barrier and a boundary
the threshold of Imagination
All of human history slaps us in the face. Screams
look at me! Witness: I did not end. I am born again and again to grow and shed infinite skins. Potential does not die but can be bound by the drawing of a line.
You, who crossed a thousand Rubicons of shame and hope, for love of my gifts: built walls and prayed for unicorns; slew dragons and mended fences.
The sum of all human consciousness is here, now. Who can contain its conscience? Where shall it be comprehended?
Witness. Else, why are you?
Every age knows fools and visionaries. Filter your vicarious indulgences but all is revealed, eventually. Each, to their unspeakable acts and heroic deeds, be true. By your own lines, rise or fall.
For I am the first and the last.
I am the honoured one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter.
I am the members of my mother.
I am the barren one and many are her sons.
I am she whose wedding is great
and I have not taken a husband.
I am the midwife and she who does not bear.
I am the solace of my labor pains.
I am the bride and the bridegroom
and it is my husband who begot me.
I am the mother of my father
and the sister of my husband
and he is my offspring.
I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea whose remembrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
and the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my name.
For I am knowledge and ignorance.
I am shame and boldness.
I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear.
I am war and peace.
Give heed to me. ⚡
Equality does not patronise
This is my body
This is my mind
This is my soul
When selecting which ‘Will of the People’ to thwart
Politicians give plenty expedient thought
And whatever Theresa believes she has bought
Big Bad John says the Don is unfitted to talk.
Speaker Bercow opposes the government ranks
Who with desperate haste in their Brexity tanks
Have so shamelessly pimped out the pomp of the Realm
To a monster addicted to taking the helm.
As expected the Brexits are all apoplectic
‘The Art of the Deal’ is their feel of the day
And the U. S. of A says they think we’re forgetting
They’ve just put that Churchill bust back on display.
Behold! Brexity Britain, integrity stripped
By a hopium Blighty with mob-handed grip,
Where to step out of line is the new imposition
And those who oppose brave uncommon position.
But John Bercow’s line is a dignified wall
Between Trumpet the sump pit and Westminster Hall
And as Donald is fickle and dumb and uncouth
He is favoured the better, forbidden of proof.
BBC News, February 7th, 2017: “A matter for Parliament”
BBC ‘This Week’ April 2nd, 2015 – Big John: https://youtu.be/x-XAOCHPXgs
Each human incarnation sees
The evolution of the Soul,
Whose manifestations are,
In and of each Self,
A form absorbing
All that has been and all that is
And a force propelling
That which is to be,
In constant elevation of the Cosmos
And unto Eternity;
Each Soul, the Chariot of God.
Bright hope of Imbolc be with you 🕯 xXx
Brexit is all smitten
With the label ‘Global Britain’
Reminiscent of the time the Sun
Was always in position;
Gonna give EU a kicking
If it doesn’t get its way.
[Every self-entitled bulldog has its day]
Gonna threaten, preach and overreach,
Cajole and whine and then beseech,
As self-inflicted victims,
Sudden keen on Foreign Aid.
Gonna get an awful shocking
At the mocking they engage,
When the only offers knocking
Are from profiteers and souvenir
Collectors making hay.
Having doubled down on doublespeak,
Perfidious Blighty’s gonna reap
Some karma as alarming sway
of asymmetric power licks its lusty lips
And squeezes dry
A desperate pipsqueak’s isolated
The hardest Brexit. Freedom to be buffeted by whim and wind. Sacrificing goods, capital and services because of some people’s scapegoating resentment and fear of… people. There’s no strength or honour in that.
Theresa May and her Brexit dullards are leading us into a wholly reckless period of unforced instability, expense and acrimony. At home and abroad. Not only is a fresh plebiscite vehemently denied but the parliamentary vote that, mind-bogglingly, actually had to be fought for, is now rendered almost pointless. This is because it will come after the invocation of Article 50 and so reduces the choice of MPs to either a crappy deal or no deal at all – an abyss; Hobson’s choice, at best. There is a lot of careless assuming going on that Article 50 can just be reversed but this is optimism without good cause: no voice with the authority to do so has, as yet, permitted this. If Article 50 is to be invoked, at all, Parliament and the Public need to be on the same page.
Government’s approach to Brexit is a wet dream for the knows-jack-shit that is Ukip with all the potential for socio-economic suicide for Britain. Labour’s strategy is to rightly try to avoid a race to the bottom but by pointing at some of the very real race-to-the-bottom flaws in May’s plan and then voting for it anyway. The Lib Dems’ approach, albeit the best, is being squandered because they are still a widely unforgiven, oppositional shell of their own making and may not have sufficient time to recoup effectively.
We now risk feeling quite alone in a precarious and rapidly shifting world; the smallest partner in most meaningful circumstances; the one with the most urgent need and the least clout. Prey. Prey to allies and foes, alike – from country to corporation. What then of our rights and ethics? What then for our economy and society? For our environment? What then of our integrity? How does such a reckless course not lead to even less sovereignty and our democracy being further undermined?
Leave behaves as though Brexit were a rebirth into that golden age when ‘Global Britain’ captured half the world under single governance and imagined having claim to the benevolence of the Sun. Remainers tended to think that Britain was pretty global, already and that it was also already in the sunniest position, both practical and possible.
From politicians, Media and Public, understanding is trailing at an unhealthy distance behind the decision-making. From referendum build-up, to campaign proper, to the vote, to the ‘plan’, to the A50 trigger, to the now meaningless final vote in Parliament: everything has been done in the wrong order. If Brexit is not a catastrophe, it will be more by sheer luck than by good judgement.
Britain lurches from not being reliably good at football, any more, to being the actual football and yet Brexiteers act as though we were the referee. By the time reality bites and Leave voters realise the folly of their hubris and hopium, it may well be too late.
Scary is what happens in the unknowable space before and until they do. What will it take to reach that critical mass of enlightened consciousness and rebalancing of Will? What will have to have happened? What will have filled that vacuum? Will it be bearable? Will it have been worth it? I have my doubts.
Led the charge
Of the Left Behind
And ideologically devout.
All forward together
No margin of error –
Apart from the half
They left out.
Direct Democracy and Devolution sound so grown up, don’t they? Like no-brainers, especially in the 21st Century, where we think we’re all so miraculously connected and enlightened. We complain incessantly that we want more control; that we need it; deserve it. I’m sure we do, in a parallel universe. But, while it is clear that political and civic power are too concentrated in some places and persons, I suspect that most of us wouldn’t have a clue what best to do with more power if we got it. After all, we don’t use what we already have, that smartly.
The People do not always know best. We just don’t. In fact, sometimes we are downright stupid, no matter the consensus that it isn’t good or wise to say so, out loud. For instance: I live in a Cornish constituency where, in the last general election, my shortsighted, albeit understandable hissy fit at the Lib Dems of Coalition merely allowed the Tories to swan back in. It must be really difficult, sometimes, for politicians to feign their respect for the voters.
The human world is a frightened and frustrated place. We can all feel it, or at least see it. The world shook after 9/11 and shifted irrevocably on its axe when the financial crises came to light. Since then, the pace of consequence has accelerated and intensified under our cowardly, short-termist leadership. They – we – build on mistake after mistake. Nearly the whole world is doing the same, on some level. We’ve facilitated ideological hubris and complacency, compounding misery and instability. No wonder there are grassroots collectives pushing for individuals to gain more democratic control. No wonder those who can are keen, or keen to pretend to offer it.
But the People are too busy living, or trying to, to spend 24/7 digesting every connection and implication involved in even the simplest idea. A lot of people don’t even have time to properly absorb a primetime news broadcast, let alone have the inclination to connect the dots around a plethora of single (-seeming) issues and assume direct agency. To participate responsibly, you have to be actively engaged and prepared to contemplate more deeply than on catchy soundbites and echo chambers. In the last general election some people thought they wanted the Conservative Party’s welfare reforms until they realised they had voted for cuts in their own income. Parents opening and running schools sounded like a great idea to a chunk of the populace until they actually tried it and realised how much expertise and time most of them did not have.
We need managers. No matter our sovereignty as individuals, we need leaders and overseers and at least some hierarchical structure of accountable authority to make a Society run. As much as we might feel that ‘’for god’s sake, I’ll do it, myself/could do it better, myself’ impatience, in the face of such overt fecklessness, we are also half hoping that something, someone, will take it off our hands.
Negotiating even our own lives can be more than enough occupation. We want someone else to take care of the other stuff. We don’t all want to have to run schools, sit on every committee, attend every blasted meeting that might affect our lives, keep up with every minute amendment to vote on every policy, engage with every whim and crackpot suggestion, tick-box endless, simplistic questionnaires. Well, I don’t, anyway. It may sound good in the abstract but, in practice, well: observe the EU referendum. Or imagine every category of Labour member having policy input on behalf of the rest of the electorate.
To imagine that the incoherent mishmash of support for Brexit is a thing worthy of unquestionable respect or that, even if Trump’s supporters should not be called out as ‘deplorable’, so much of their motivation clearly is, or that the utopian fanaticism for Corbyn, as the only 21st-Century light around which all the Left must orbit: these are symptomatic of our neurotic times. It took us years to create this anti-intellectual mess. There is no simple fix that can be also universally palatable.
But people tend to cling to hope where they think they have found it. We like to imagine that there must be a magic fix, if only someone would discover it or if we could just make a certain person, the whole country, the whole of humanity see it our way. If only x would happen then everything would be solved. It’s little wonder that idealists and charismatics are popular. They tell us what we should be worried about and who and what to fear and they offer simple yet dramatic fixes with casual and confident ease. This is attractive, particularly to those who think they have nothing left to lose and to those seeking the short-lived catharsis of vitriol.
Still, our leaders are the People, too, despite the quite concerted efforts of some to convey or perceive otherwise. Whether we see those currently charged with shaping our present and future as heroes or villains and all in between, they are merely a reflection of the human spectrum that they claim to serve: weak, sincere, ignorant, greedy, perceptive, compassionate, arrogant, clever, paranoid…
I don’t want ‘Brexit’ but, if we must have it, I obviously want the best achievable version, not an appeasement model for its bulldog fantasists. I want mature democratic reforms but not to serve some partisan agenda and not as a superficial sop to pacify a confused and frustrated populace. The fallout discussions around the Scottish Indyref and Brexit show how the promises and piecemeal of panic and short-term politicking, are downright disrespectful of both the electorate and our constitution.
The awful consequences of decades of causes are threatening, again, to become the new causes for decades of even more dreadful consequences. Unfortunately, a significant number of the electorate does not care and tragically, some have not even noticed.
Live long enough, though and you can feel like you’ve lived it all before. Be careful what you wish for.
Life is paradox:
it is while it is not.
Perfecting in its flaws…
Effect is stored inside its cause
but Man forgets his Cosmic Law.
its own Universe entire
yet a speck within the macrocosm
– All is One –
But every spirit’s fire is unique.
A human seeks to leave himself
to find himself
returned to place
to face his own remains
as though his eyes were new again.
And the less we try to run,
the more we grow.
the more we learn,
the less we know.
Empiric fact is juxtaposed
and overlapped with supposition;
evidence with superstition…
Memory may be what wasn’t
and the only real that is.
A lie can be transparent
while the truth itself
be masking great deceit.
For confidence is weakened
by an overreach
and strength can speak in silence.
As a hatred can be loved and
road to Hell be unintended.
Even violence can look beautiful
and seeming beauty be mundane
– just as a duty may be free
or sought and claimed as honour
or pretence in perfect slavery.
And Death is but a midwife
to the start of life
and every life is born to die.
Below is like above,
as is without akin to all within.
Where progress comes
by order out of chaos
as the darkest weight of shadows knows:
the Sun comes shining;
like a cloud creates a silver lining.
And as Fate and Will be dice of separate states,
they are the same
– just as the gravity of Being and of Doing form
the counters in Great Mystery’s old game.
The World is how you’ve chosen
to believe it is,
though Universal Rules remain.
There is no new
but wonders never cease
and increase is the sum of pieces
framed by peace
and conflict steals a Golden Fleece.
And yes: the more things change,
the more they stay the same.
But what is deemed impossible
is seeded with potential
by the want of an essential gain
and pure Imagination’s daring pain.
Ambivalence is not
a certain lack of vision,
nor an absence of discretion.
Ambiguity is not a merely mercenary prism –
thoughts and feelings can be held in opposition.
They’re a natural reflection
of a stimulated conscience
and an obvious response to
such a life of paradox
where all the complex world is locked
into a courtship dance of serious and nonsense.
Wishing you balance and perspective this Autumnal Equinox 🌦 xXx
[Originally posted, Jan 2014]