Visions of Reality

Migrant Mind, In Thought, Alive, In Thought, Afloat
“Cough up, if you can; and if you can’t, just cough up anyway [- whatever you’ve got]; for cough up–cry silenced, heart unheard, spirit broken, and body, battered, bruised, and war torn, homeless, and helpless, and cold, and hungry, and retching, sick, and night, raped, and daylight, robbed, of this, this wretched earth, of woman’s son, mankind–and pay up, you must, you must, you must, and more, and pay up, my friend, you must, and more, and pay up, my friend, you will; now step this way”, or so he seemed to say, the Devil, or something like (he spoke, what was, to me, a foreign tongue); “our boat’s this way”.

(And no Christian, Muslim, or Jew, was he; no true believer, heart warm, and loving, surely, in his simple faith, that much, was clear.)

(He knew the market, though; a splendid entrepreneur! And, I ask you, how could he possibly let such an opportunity pass by? And how proud and rich he’d make his children be!)

But what a ship of fools we were, quite honestly; astonishingly, even after, astonished, we’d seen the “ship”, and even then; naïve, so very naïve, so desperately naïve, we were, and innocent; either that, or damned, and desperate; and just thin scraps, and scratchings, left, of hope, there were, to nourish us, believers, somehow, still, in human kindness, human nature, human value, valuable, still, as walk that plank we did, up to our boat, if you can call it that, that crock of filthy, holy, shit.

(And I’ll pour out my wrath like water.)

And look at me now; the last alive, the only one.

And cough up the swallowed saltwater, if you can; cough it up or, if you can, better still, just keep it out, just keep it out of your mouth, and your mouth, even gasping, short of breath, keep shut, and closed; just keep your mouth shut; and even so, keep your head, if you can, above water, treading water; and be then like some bloody miracle worker, calm, and carrying on; don’t go under, at any rate; don’t lose your head; keep breathing on.

And it all floated by so fast, as in a dream, accelerated; your life re-lived backwards, as they say, going forwards, in reverse.

And, adrift on open seas, I reached out, reached out, reached out for it, then, in hope, as if it were a buoy, or rope; a lifeline keeping me, another moment, another breath, in thought, alive, in thought, afloat.

And a line of words formed then so suddenly, spontaneously, surprisingly, desperately, in mind, my mind, in mind, in foaming wave, on wave, of memory, spat, salted, sprayed, in teary, brilliant, blinding, sun, cresting, white, and paper, thin, in fading, fast emptying, dissolving, drenched, drowning, memory, on wave, of memory, in skin-numbed blue, to freezing, flailing, ink-spilled, body, black, and that, then, that, and beautiful, strangely, still.

And this line of words formed then so suddenly, spontaneously, surprisingly, desperately, in mind, my mind, in mind, surfacing there, and floating up, in reflection, as if, from nowhere, known, or recalled, or recognized – ocean’s rippling memory, a mystery, maybe, who knows – whosoever, wherever, whenever, whichever, whatever – why who; and these words, then, as it were, asked, then, asked, and, asking, me, myself, asked, if, behind, or perhaps underneath, or perhaps within, all life’s noise, and agitation, and emotion, in mind, there was, and there existed, somewhere, somehow, here, in the heart of the thing, in the heart (the heart), in the heart of the thing, a great quietness (of poetry), and an ear, to hear, then, there, the silence, deep, and still; an ear for silence. And so I lifted up, then, beseeching, heavenward, my eyes, and breathed, again, although breathless, panting, saying, why, and why, again; and, in reply, that sky, sky’s song, sounded silence, and only silence, and only silence, only, all; sky sounding silence, and all that, and more, oh my, my soundless cry, as if, in moment’s happiness, momentarily, to myself, that moment, this, and this, and now, momentarily, in moment’s happiness, now, were I, I wish, to die. And there, then, too, to look, to listen, to see, to hear, and to know; and to know, this, now, that, where, every, there, and, every, ever, here, and there, and here, again, and again, and again, so free, to be; in death, in death, in death; in death, live on. And all mind’s eye, quiet heart; so far, and yet, so near; come hold me dear.

And a line of words formed then so suddenly, spontaneously, surprisingly, desperately, in mind, my mind, in mind, in foaming wave, on wave, of memory, spat, salted, sprayed, in teary, brilliant, blinding, sun, cresting, white, and paper, thin, in fading, fast emptying, dissolving, drenched, drowning, memory, on wave, of memory, in skin-numbed blue, to freezing, flailing, ink-spilled, body, black, and that, then, that, and beautiful, strangely, still.

And, adrift on open seas, I reached out, reached out, reached out for it, then, in hope, as if it were a buoy, or rope; a lifeline keeping me, another moment, another breath, in thought, alive, in thought, afloat.

And it all floated by so fast, as in a dream, accelerated; your life re-lived backwards, as they say, going forwards, in reverse.

And this, then, almost the last thing, floating away, from life, and me, that I could see: a tiny baby, bobbing, bloated, by me; bathing, I briefly thought, bizarrely, and all washed up, and off, and away, as if, seemingly, fresh, and new; and this my own dear child, this baby, blue, but still no strength for me to take, or hold this baby, mine, again, to beating heart, my breast; for this, my child, is dead; and I, myself, now, as one, as if, awash, and again, new born, in newborn’s screaming, selfish, dim lit, heartbeat, beating, fearful, drum, and dreaming, now, only, of my own, dear father, mother, sister, brother, home.

(One day a sanctuary, I thought, named home.)

(And come now home, come home.)

(And make yourself at home.)

(And be at home.)

And then, in all the dreamlike, nightmare, unfamiliarity of it, lost, disorientated, drowning, and delusional, something strange, occurred, most strange of all.

In this, my darkened vision’s final breath, my death; for this tiny child, my baby, floating off; I see, is, somehow, also, me.

This baby, too, is, somehow, also, me, I see, is you.

And I, then, in death, who sees, my breaking heart, my child, am He.

(For in dying, all eternity.)

And oh, my God.
And oh, my God.
And oh, my God.

God, can it be?

© Bede Nix, 26 September 2018. All rights reserved.
(Once In (Fortress) Europa – If Not A Promised Land, Betrayed)

Vox Populi

Salivating impatiently in the shadows of social injustice waits the many‑headed monster of political turmoil.

Once unleashed, cutting all down, slashing and burning, killing and eating, this monster manifests as a most fearsome creature, lashing out furiously in all directions, every which way and that, to left, and right, in the virulence, long neglected, of its sadness, and its frustration, and its anger, and its hatred; and it’s like a singular, alienated, evil, eye, seeing everything in black, and white, to turning, seeing, red, raging, fire, burning, bright, in pitch black darkness, blind, of longest, darkest, bleakest, blackest, all devouring, all consuming, night; until, at last, it burns itself out too — at last — and finally; and all burned up, cremated, dead, and buried, dust to dust, and, ashes, to ashes; and scorched, silent, desolate, once more, this earth of humankind; and this earth of humankind, to earth, again, itself, once more, the ground, returned.

My friends, take care – be wary, prudent, vigilant, alert – for no ordinary human strength or wisdom tames this beast.

Yet one who’s brave and gentle — he, she, they, perhaps, can do it; loving, kind intention — quiet mind; and quietening, calming, heart, to be, as if, a droplet, then, in human sea, to turn, tranquillity, into oceans of compassion, heads bowed deepening down, to hearts, to hands, to knees, surrendering, rooting, grounding, earth, listening, hearing, and, looking upwards, seeing sky.

So come then, all, we, once were, oh, if, so, so cautiously, carefully spoken, expensively educated, care free, small “c”, conservative, capitalists, come; come, too, we lip service elitist, two-tier, state-run, communists; come one and all, indeed; whatever race, creed, and colour, and colour, your politics; all seeming somehow so different — even opposite — somehow separate; all so disparate, and desperate; yet somehow still the same; still all the same; same red lines, and same blind loyalties, and same dumbed-down, downsized, besides; and money-smudged, and asset-stripped, bought up, and taken over; merged, converged, confusing, messy blur of human greed and human ignorance; and same old greasy pole and slippery ladder; same old social immobility; and same old rich and powerful, too, my sisters, brothers — same old elites; and same old state machinery, seemingly; in ankle shackles, tongue constraints; our looks downtrodden; hearts oppressed; heartless human mind and body prison.

Meanwhile, the TV debates the non-stop, breaking, broken, news, in surround sound speaking overheated heads, vox pop, around the 24-7 clock.

What do you think?

And what do you think?

Do you think?

And are you now the enemy?

Yes, YOU: the enemy!

Or am I now the enemy?

Who, me; me too?

Who you?

And who, here, now, the allies, friend?

And when, and where, in this, the entertainment, then?

(The bad news junkie.)

(Hooked up and always nervous, anxious, jittery, cross.)

(Soul-sucking screens.)

(So that sometimes I forget to blink; and you?)

(Doors of perception; doors of no return.)

(Arbeit macht frei.)

(Eyes exhausted; dry throat burning; hoarse voices, crying, moaning, mourning.)

(Smoke the sky.)

(Come, please, and step this way; walk through.)

(I do.)

(Not only me alone, of course; nor you)

(We’re in this, then, as we.)

(As we … )

We once were oh so, so, so, clever bankers, CEOs, oil barons and top brass “defence contractors”–“arms dealers”, so to speak–and property tycoons and landed lords, hedge fund managers and venture capitalists, media moguls and TV reality personalities, fat cats and big fish, and presidents and ministers, drug lords and farmer-pharmacists, stockbrokers and shareholders, statisticians and economists, insurance brokers and car salesmen, silicon valley techies and washed up uncivil service wonks, and corporate slaves, and minimum wage corporate cleaning contractors, boardroom to bored, empty, rooms, in single room flats, of absent dads, lost sons, and daughters, lonely mums, perhaps enchained in their, in our, prosperity, or else, more likely, in their, in our, inner, poverty, all enchained, in any case, and encoded, too, in pixilated digital data, and face-reading surveillance statistics, registered, and recognized, “whatever”, and, wherever, on the great grand scale of things, then, we might aspire, one day, to weigh ourselves, between a beefed up, or else, plucked clean, extreme, to form one huge happy human family, and, in short, a global village, of sorts, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons, all colours, creeds, orientations, sexes, sexualities, one, and all, asking, ourselves, each other, all together, if we can, searching, surely, not do better, then, than this, be better, can I, can you, and, can we … ?

Can we surely not do better?

(And)

Be somehow better.

(Surely).

(Birth place: Earth. Race: Human. Politics: Freedom. Religion: Love).

For the material can be useful, can be lovely, but without some breath of spirit in the thing, some music for the soul, and, stripped of hope, a deepened humanity, it’s all as good as meaningless, all this status, and property, stuff, and treasure, which we so much crave, and cherish, all basically meaningless, this ‘phone, this car, these jewels, these fine, fancy, and oh so fashionable clothes, and all of it on the way to soon seeming in any case so lifeless, so stupid, so numb, so dull, as deep down well you know.

So come on, then, let’s face it.

All really we wish for from one another is some soft, kind, gentle, word, and face, of recognition, and gentle eye’s forgiving gaze, and loving, hand’s warm, touch, some small sign of shared humanity.

So there, that’s it.

And …

Let’s work together to search for, realize, and celebrate our mutual flourishing; sharing our food, our shelter, and our clothes; our human hearth, and home; our human warmth, and fire, and feasts, festivities; music, and culture; and our family, and our gods; our human hopes and aspirations; our dreams and our delights; our wine and our song; our laughter and our smiles; our bodies and our souls; and all our lives.

And let’s now drink a toast, then, here, to that, and join together, all together, to eat, be merry, sing, and dance!

And stretch out your hand, then, for mine.

Hold my hand …

(We’re almost there.)

And the mind, still, and the thoughts, like the breath, slow, calm, quiet, deep, and the heart, the heart, centred, and, like arms wide open.

And together, then, we’ll defy, defeat, and dispel all these ugly nightmares, feeble, distasteful, and deeply unimaginative, and ungenerous. And we’ll do so simply from the clarity and strength of these our far-sighted dreams, and from our hope for and belief in better days, soon to come, maybe here.

And look, look up: the light of the sun sparkling sky is up there, still, clear, and blue.

Lift up your eyes, to see.

And lift your hands, your hearts–your human spirits–in prayer, in praise, in gratitude, in grace; and, first and foremost, in greatness of heart.

And let’s enjoy, then, still, some confidence, and faith.

And take courage, my friend.

All will be well.

Let’s make it so.

© Bede Nix, November 2016. (Revision of 8 December 2019.) All rights reserved.

What Do I Care?

And now ask yourself, as one of the very privileged few, this question, following:

“When did I last – or when, that is, was the last, most recent, time – that I – I myself – I – that, consciously, knowingly – I sat, and shared, freely, that time – my time – (your) time – and theirs – in fullest energy, and fullest presence, and fullest attention – heart questioning, heart listening – and understanding, perhaps – although, in fact, perhaps, not really understanding – yet really trying, all the same – and really trying, at least, in all good faith, to understand – (you) – standing over a stove – or sitting around a kitchen table – hot tea, or coffee – a cigarette, maybe – just details, in any case – and only details, which do not matter – not really – no matter – but yes, they do matter, even so, and every one, you’re right – all the details – faces – one by one – every one – (all details – all circumstances – all challenges – and all potential – all faces – everyone) – every one – and so sat, then, that’s to say, that is, with someone – a distant acquaintance, perhaps – or lowly, junior, colleague, ladder’s bottom – someone in the supermarket, at the cashout – counter – till – or at a fast food joint – or café – bar – or simply standing, there, alone – the street – like someone passing –  lost, seemingly – and passing away – in anyway no details anymore, and no face clear in memory, no name – who stands there, way over there, and far away – silently – as if dumb, or mute – but a person, that’s to say, and nevertheless, who was currently living, then, or was currently trying to live – to manage – to survive – and doing so, or failing to do so, maybe, still – on the minimum wage, or just, or well, below it – not a one off sort of a person, and unique, of course – but rather a “one of”, a “one of many” – the global majority, indeed, that is – albeit largely disenfranchised, and voiceless – insignificant, as if – as if, forgotten – and that’s to say, then, something, then, like this – as if again to count them – yes, count them – yes – the bottom five billion?”

And then ask yourself this question, too, in fullest rhetorical flourish, as perhaps you’ve done already, many times, deep down, in darkened, dim lit soul, if quietly, so quietly, so very quietly, such that you yourself barely heard it asked, or said – now did you? – at least, not consciously:

“And what do I care?”

“And what do I care?”

“And what do I care?”

“And what then, really, do I (you) care?”

And then there – just there – right there – notice straight away, now, right there, at once, how that question begins immediately to tickle, there, a little, ever so little, and then to stick, a little more, then tighten, constricting, more, and more, and more, and more, and more, around your throat, as if your throat were locked now in the grip of a desperate, squeezing, tensing, tautening, tightening, furious, fist, to suffocate nearly the breath and spirit of you, and to strangle you nearly half to death, or simply to shake you, violently, into the realization that – do you know what? – hello! – we’re here, and human, too, you know.

(The bottom five billion.)

And then I ask you:

Have you got the slightest clue, do you think?

And have you really any idea about what our lives are really, really, really, really, like?

And if – quite honestly – and “honesty”, at last – it seems to you the answer’s “no” – then I ask you one last question, which is this: why then the hell, quite honestly, should we give a damn or care, either, too, about you?

Why should we care about you?

I mean, really; please tell me – tell me why!

Why then the hell should we care about you?

And why then the hell?

(And yet somehow, still, we do care; somehow, still. Or I do, at least. And I’m glad that now you’ve read this through, and may it now stay with you, here, and remain, and last, a while, to be – as if, now, your thinking, too – your thoughts – your own. And do now be gentle, my friend – show heart; I know you can, and shall, go well.)

© Bede Nix, 20 June 2019. All rights reserved.

www.inequality.org

Yes To All

YES TO ALL
(A Poem For My Son)

Listen, my child, let’s see if we can’t just quieten our chattering thoughts, for a second, shall we; and set aside our oh so clever intellects; and lose our heads, as it were – just for one minute, I promise; and instead, just trust our feelings.

Animal instinct, we’ll call it.

And, if you like, and if it helps, here, take my hand.

(And I’d hold your hand forever, my child, if you wished, and if possibly I could; even then, the time would pass too quickly; for forever would never ever be enough time, my child, to stand with you, by your side, and hand in hand. And, yes, yes, I know, yes yes, I know, and I know only, and all, too well. For you don’t need my hand at all, now, truth to tell, now, do you? And now you’re already far too confident, now, and independent, for all that. And that’s only right, and entirely normal, and natural. But at least here, in these words, on the page, I can still extend, and still extend my hand to you, and to tell you that my hand will always be there for you, to hold, to hold your hand, hold hands, for when you need, or should you wish, just so, and said, without, I trust, too much embarrassment, at least, I hope so).

And so, with a hand, or without a hand, with no hand, or hands, at all, that is, whichever the case may be, please just trust me now, this once, on this one, no need to think, or fret, but simply take it easy, and breathe freely, my child, and let it go.

And indeed, abandoning all control, let’s just close our eyes, now, shall we, as if, perhaps, to pray.

And we’ll close our eyes (and, at least in my imagination, in my thoughts, hand in hand), simply observing, within, we’ll … well … we’ll … well … we’ll … well … just relax … into waiting … and waiting … and waiting … saying, let’s just wait and see, then, shall we?

For the thought is evolving, of that we can be sure; indeed, we can take that one on trust, if I may say so, and, as if, in total confidence, on faith.

And it’s coming, this thought, this expression of thought; it’s coming …

And it’s like the seeds, you see, that begin, in spring, to shoot,
And the flowers, that blossom, and bloom,
And the trees, bearing in some cases such sweet, such succulent, fruit,
All in their season, that’s to say, and that is, the rhythm, of the days, and nights, the sun, and moon, the light, and light’s relative absence, all lit up, by the brilliance, of stars, of millions of stars, in galaxies, and galaxies, of them, and each, your eye, bright, blinking, and twinkling, every one,
And all fed, too, as by the birds, and the bees, and watered, as by the rains, from skies above,
The oceans, and the seas,
The rivers, and the streams,
The mountains, and the forests, and the woodlands, and the fields,
And all the living, moving, breathing, being, things,
And that’s to say …

Well, let’s make a list, then, shall we, lest we forget; now let me think …
(Oh, and what a nincompoop; I just said not to think!)

(Oh Papi; Mamma mia!)

But here I thinks, again, and thinking, even so; oh no …
(For sometimes one just can’t help it; it’s just the way we’re made; it’s in our DNA, so to speak, or so, at least, I think, those clever scientists, and clever doctors, seem to say.)
And it’s in any case coming, this thought, this expression of thought; it’s in any case coming …
For what we’re talking about here, lest we forget, let me think, are all those living, moving,
Forming, floating, flowing, rowing …
Rowing???
(Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream!)
Well, rowing, maybe not …
But forming, for sure!
And floating, too, maybe.
And flowing, and growing, and squiggling, and squirming, and wiggling, and waggling, and worming, and turning, and tossing, and flossing – flossing? – humph! – and crawling, and bawling, and screeching, and screaming, and calling, and falling, and stretching, and retching – retching? – and fetching, and talking and walking – well, some of us, at least – and skipping and jumping, and swimming and running, and leaping, and flying, breathing, being, things, like …
Like …
Like …
Oh, I don’t know …
Well, like …

The Aardvark, and the Antelope,
The Beetle, and the Bumble Bee,
The Cockroach, and the Caterpillar,
The Horse, and Hippopotamus,
The Ant, and Octopus!

And that’s not all, of course.

It’s just that, well … I’ve already got myself a bit lost, quite honestly … I’ve got a bit lost … distracted, perhaps … and … lest we forget …

Where was I?

Ah yes, that’s right.

It’s coming back to me now.

For it’s all coming along, this thought, this expression of thought; indeed, it’s coming along quite nicely … so let’s not rush it, shall we?

And it’s like the seeds, you see, that begin, in spring, to shoot,
And the flowers, that blossom, and bloom,
And the trees, bearing in some cases such sweet, such succulent, fruit,
All in their season, that’s to say, and that is, the rhythm, of the days, and nights, sun, and moon, the light, and light’s relative absence, all lit up, by the brilliance, of stars, of millions of stars, in galaxies, and galaxies, of them, and each, your eye, bright, blinking, and twinkling, every one,
And all fed, too, as by the birds, and the bees, and watered, as by the rains, from skies above,
The oceans, and the seas,
The rivers, and the streams,
The mountains, and the forests, and the woodlands, and the fields,
And all the living, moving, breathing, being, things,
And that’s to say …

Where was I?

Where were we?

Where are we?

Here!

That’s right.

So we were …

The Emu and the Centipede,
The Earwig and the Elephant,
Lemming and Ladybird,
Badger and Butterfly,
The Hamster and the Humming Bird and the Hen,
The Buffalo, and Bonobo,
And then the Ant – and the Anteater – OH NO!

And then the Bullfrog and the Alligator,
The Porcupine, and the Platypus,
Newt, and Nightingale,
Crocodile, and Crow,
The Parrot, and the Peacock, and the Penguin, and the Vole
The Wolf, and Weasel,
And then the Rat – and the Rattlesnake – OH NO!

And then the Brown Bear, and the Hermit Crab,
The Turkey, and the Toad,
Guinea-Pig, and Grasshopper,
The Lion, and Kangaroo,
The Lobster, and the Lemur, and the Lynx,
The Slow Worm and the Glow Worm and the Jellyfish, Giraffe – not half!
The Tapir, and the Tortoise
The Toucan, and the Termite,
The Walrus, and the Warthog, and the Whale,

And then the Monkey, and the Water Rat,
The Ostrich, the Chameleon,
Hedgehog, and Hermit Crab,
Chipmunk, and Baboon,
The Salamander, the Squirrel, and the Slug,
The Dragonfly, and Mole,
The Hedgehog, and the Grizzly, Grizzly Bear – Garrrrargh!

And then the Lamb, and the little Mouse, just over there,
Behind the Spider, and the Snail …
The Ladybird, and Hare
Yes, over there …

Over where???

Over there, of course!

Behind the Zorse, and the Zebra, and the Zonkey!

The what???

(Try not to stare!)

Oh really, Papi; Mamma mia!

Talk! Talk! Talk! Talk! Talk!

Yak! Yak! Yak! Yak! Yak!

And yes; yes; yes; yes; yes, I know …; I know that’s not them all … the great menagerie! … and that’s not it all …at all … at all …

For the list is not exhaustive, my child, I appreciate; nor even alphabetical, let’s admit, as in …

ABC …

ADD

AD HHHH D

Ola! Ola!

Olé! Olé!

Hoorah! Hoorah!

Whoopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

For structure was never really quite my thing, quite honestly; but nor should it nor ever could it have been.

For life’s not a childhood picture perfect farmyard rural scene, my dear!

It’s not all cats, dogs, chickens, goats, sheep, donkeys, ducks, and horses, cows, you know; no, not at all!

Not even by a tractor’s mile; or apples, pears.

And all that’s mushy peas, and mashed potatoes; all rotten tomatoes, or to-mae-toes!!!

And what a lot of old cadswallop; what rubbish; what rot and nonsense; what pure make believe; pre-school playground fantasy!

In short, what perfect oink, and woof, and baa, and quack, and squawk, and neigh, and moo!

And what a perfect pile of manure, my friends!

Poo! Poo!

(To you!)

For in truth, all this, it’s all the natural world, after all; and we’re best enjoying it as it comes, just as it comes, shouldn’t you say, and don’t you think?

But yes, you’re right; yes, yes, it’s true.

For another might have said, first this, then, that, first A, then B, then C, and so on, to M, to O, to Y, O, Y, and one day, and some day, there you are at last, my friend, you’ve made it, you’re at Z (and fast asleep, more than likely; dead beat).

But no, that’s not my style; that’s not me, at all.

And that’s the whole point, indeed.

For, starting with this thought, that’s still coming along, this thought, this expression of thought, just nicely; it’s still coming along just nicely, you see … well …

It’s just the natural world, don’t you see?

It’s nature. And, that is, seemingly all over the place, but actually following each thing its time, and its rhythm, its reason, and its purpose …

Like the seeds, you see, that begin, in spring, to shoot,
And the flowers, that blossom, and bloom,
And the trees, bearing in some cases such sweet, such succulent, fruit,
All in their season, that’s to say, and that is, the rhythm, of the days, and nights, sun, and moon, the light, and light’s relative absence, all lit up, by the brilliance, of stars, of millions of stars, in galaxies, and galaxies, of them, and each, your eye, bright, blinking, and twinkling, every one,
And all fed, too, as by the birds, and the bees, and watered, as by the rains, from skies above,
The oceans, and the seas,
The rivers, and the streams,
The mountains, and the forests, and the woodlands, and the fields,
And all the living, moving, breathing, being, things,
And that’s to say, well …

What?

To say what?

And should we go on with our list, or not?

Shall we, or shall we …?

Or shall we stop?

But …

No, but …

Wait!

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait …

(Okay, enough of waiting!)

Where was I?

And where were we?

And where now are you?

Oh, there you are! Okay …

For it seems to me now that we’re forgetting someone, or two, in me, and you, for we’re here too, don’t forget, like so many animals – in – a – human – zoo, and also all of us a part, somehow, in principle of this, our natural world. For to us it’s rather like a zoo, I know, and yet it’s not a zoo, you know, it’s nature; and we’re nature, too; and seemingly all over the place, and especially me; but actually following each one his rhythm, her rhythm, their rhythm, our rhythm, and reason, too, perhaps, even, and purpose …

So listen, my child, let’s just simply see if we can’t just quieten our chattering thoughts, for a second, shall we; and set aside our oh so clever intellects; and lose our heads, as it were – just for one minute, I promise; and instead, just trust our feelings.

Animal instinct, we’ll call it.

And, if you like, and if it helps, here, take my hand.

(And I’d hold your hand forever, my child, if you wished, and if possibly I could; even then, the time would pass too quickly; for forever would never ever be enough time, my child, to stand with you, by your side, and hand in hand. And, yes, yes, I know, yes yes, I know, and I know only, and all, too well. For you don’t need my hand at all, now, truth to tell, now, do you? And now you’re already far too confident, now, and independent, for all that. And that’s only right, and entirely normal, and natural. But at least here, in these words, on the page, I can still extend, and still extend my hand to you, and to tell you that my hand will always be there for you, to hold, to hold your hand, hold hands, for when you need, or should you wish, just so, and said, without, I trust, too much embarrassment, at least, I hope so).

And so, with a hand, or without a hand, with no hand, or hands, at all, that is, whichever the case may be, please just trust me now, this once, on this one, no need to think, or fret, but simply take it easy, and breathe freely, my dear child, and let it go.

And indeed, abandoning all control, let’s just close our eyes, now, shall we, as if, perhaps, to pray.

And we’ll close our eyes (and, at least in my imagination, in my thoughts, hand in hand), simply observing, within, we’ll … well … we’ll … well … we’ll … well … just relax … into waiting … and waiting … and waiting … saying, let’s just wait and see, then, shall we?

For the thought is evolving, of that we can be sure; indeed, we can take that one on trust, if I may say so, and, as if, in total confidence, on faith.

And it’s coming, this thought, this expression of thought; it’s coming …

And it’s like the seeds, you see, that begin, in spring, to shoot,
And the flowers, that blossom, and bloom,
And the trees, bearing in some cases such sweet, such succulent, fruit,
All in their season, that’s to say, and that is, the rhythm, of the days, and nights, the sun, and moon, the light, and light’s relative absence, all lit up, by the brilliance, of stars, of millions of stars, in galaxies, and galaxies, of them, and each, your eye, bright, blinking, and twinkling, every one,
And all fed, too, as by the birds, and the bees, and watered, as by the rains, from skies above,
The oceans, and the seas,
The rivers, and the streams,
The mountains, and the forests, and the woodlands, and the fields,
And all the living, moving, breathing, being, things,
And that’s to say …

My child …

Let’s not be again like those bygone, old hat, anxious, aggressive, arrogant, greedy, overfed fools of the agricultural-industrial-capitalist-consumerist-profit rich, extractivist, age, turning everything to grass, field by field, for their sheep and their cows and their horses, to tramp tramp trumpety trump down, burned, bombed, cut, felled, upon, for their sacred profit more more armies, farting mightily, as one nation sheep, asleep, to slaughter, fight!

And let them then eat cake, if they must – or lab grown burgers and beans.

Lab grown meat …
Lab grown meat …
Lab grown meat …

(The land, rewilded.)

For I say to you this, dear child, let’s simply not … let’s not interfere any more … interfering, no more …but instead live on, and on, and on, and on, in all simplicity, upon a planet that’s soon, once more, again, to be, no longer farmed, and tamed, but wild, and free, and where, maybe, we, too, one day, wild, and natural, and loving, and free, and in harmony, at peace, at home, in our world, on this, our only planet, our so-called Mother Nature, our Gaia, and our earth, shall be.

For nature knows what she’s doing, my child.

(Even if we, sometimes – often – most certainly do not.)

And with or without us, she’ll make her way.

But we, for our part – you – and me – well, what an extraordinary opportunity – miraculously – we’ve somehow, still – our great human greed, and stupidity, aside – been given ­– to listen to her – Mother Nature – Planet Earth – as if being read to, then reading from, and studying, this, her book, our world, whispering:

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes.

And …

Yes, my child, to everything she tells you; and to everything, whispering, now, to you, she says.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes to all.

(Sir David Attenborough, Sir James Lovelock, George Monbiot, and, above all, perhaps, Greta Thunberg – to name but three – oh, sorry, four – do please make us see – make us all see – come to our senses – understand.)

© Bede Nix, 1 March 2014. Revision of 17 January 2020. All rights reserved.