I’m hearing about crises. Today reading that women walking and calling themselves sluts (a brilliant recapture) is “the fight for equality stall[ing] and porn culture swallow[ing] everything.”
Perhaps. [click below to read more]
Admittedly tongue in cheek, this reference, but it seems we’re conditioned to believe that something has to happen because of something else. Financial torment averted with a communal yell of crisis that patched but did not solve the festering of the wound. We have given a lot of bankers a lot of money, and now they are making more. While governments cut. Something is missing from the picture here, or included under false pretenses. A financial excuse upon which we’re all called to account.
It is, therefore, inconceivable that a situation might arise not from a previous deficit, but an upswell of feeling. Spontaneity does not require an reason but expresses itself resolutely, when given courage and space. We’re seeing marches in Spain, with supporters throughout Europe, and the SlutWalkers bring a certain colour to an otherwise stalled debate. People are beginning to stand up. The students, in the UK, dismissed as thugs and unruly, were the first wave of a people wordlwide stating their principles. Combined feet and bodies are a powerful way to do that.
Butnote the lack of hysteria. This is our Promethean moment, but he’s stepping along on Venus’s feet, gently laying aside torment and governments running out of methods to oppress, at least in the West. I wish the same could be said for Syria and Libya. You can see we’ve gained something in Europe though somehow find more reasons to complain. Though it’s only right that we should continue to press against the envelope of wherever freedom is curtailed. By doing so here: for the right not to be raped, for fuller participation in democracy; we are not delivering false hopes but participating in values in a culture grown tired of expediency. Even the anti-rational whimsy (cf Edward Monkton and Innocent smoothies) is spent. We’re becoming quietly serious again.
I spent the weekend indulging in shades of freedom available to me. It did not involve a lot of movement. Tempted to join the marchers I instead went inside and looked and found dawning acres of space. Enough to see the whole world again new. And then I went to see a film by Terence Malik that was bright and lovely, and had dinner with a beautiful Portuguese woman who helps me see the world in different ways. It’s privilege to indulge in perceptual foreplay, without governments curtailing basic rights. Though if we give them a chance, they will do it, and it’s our responsibility to fight them. But this freedom, this inner space playing on outer surfaces, can also be found in Syria and Libya. A freedom free from external conditions, and going deeper, from internal ones too, is freedom worth preserving and cultivating in whatever way we can. Allowing it to express in whatever we find passionate or removing obstacles if they’re in our way.
~ ~ ~ ~
A picture of a drop hitting the water sideways. The angle folds in distended ripples, moving left to right, rhythmically capturing the movement of that drop, as it bends and gets lost with a billion formless friends.
[I couldn’t find this photograph, if you do, let me know ;)]