You can interpret this in any way you like.
But inspired yesterday by field upon field of great rolling cotton reels of straw, so sodden with rain that they are near immovable, I thought, yes, this is where we are at!
Credit: Sandy Main
Rolling towards a political change so profound, so unknown, so alarming (it’s called Brexit, just in case the metaphor has escaped) that like animals caught in the headlights of a car, we are frozen in time as the hours tick by. Tomorrow is October 1st, and then, just thirty days to sort out what can only be described as a sodding mess.
Being a naturally fairly optimistic person, though far too prone to getting caught up in the drama of my emotions, I know on a deep level that what will be will be… that the roller-coaster of human evolution we are currently riding is but a micro-blip in the history of the cosmos.
And yet…
People are suffering. Families are suffering (even Boris Johnson’s own, not that he seems to care…). Everyone feels battered, bruised, confused. Fear translating into anger, courtesy of mainstream British media, is palpable. Life goes on, but under a shadow that is all too reminiscent of the run-up to Germany’s Third Reich.
When Hitler took over as Chancellor in 1933, he spent the first six months doing very little but stroke his dog and his ego. Oh, and order trusted colleagues to concentrate their efforts over that period on destroying democracy, so that he could then move mountains and reshape the world in his image as Dictator.
Sounds familiar? It ought to.
What can we do? Scream. Demonstrate if needs be. Vote if given the chance at the right time. Or simply reel into Autumn in the old ways: making jam (we may have to), treading grapes (ditto), layering up for colder weather (being promised the worst winter for 30 years! well thanks wearther-people!), sharpening axes (for cutting logs not going to war with one another ), putting gardens to sleep until Spring.
Spring 2020. Can you imagine where we will be by then? I can’t and I am not trying, not going there… Instead I choose to work on be-friending and bettering my Self and the small part of heaven in which we live – and if we all did the same, the world would surely be a very different place.
Today it is golden. I woke as usual, surprised and delighted to be gifted another day. After a friend died in her sleep a few months ago, without any warning and nothing obviously wrong, I no longer take waking for granted.
Nor anything else for that matter.
