We are on a precipice as we speak, many in fact.
Culturally and politically, we know things are totally fucked. We don’t feel, white people that is, that we belong anymore, we are in fact largely denigrated for our ‘original sin’.
People keep talking about civil war but there’s been a war going on in our hearts for decades. Not years, not childhoods, decades. People feel it, it goes deep (centuries deep) and it is disorientating.
Our institutions have been exposed as not only not serving our needs but, in reality, acting deliberately against them.
The press for war
Lockdowns/COVID
The NHS in general
Our education system
The systematic demonisation of native Brits
Wherever you believe it originated, it’s obvious now. AGAIN – we feeeeeel it and it makes us feel irksome, angry and, often, helpless.
I am not here, maybe to your disappointment and annoyance, to prescribe any particular action but if you believe it’s not happening and that it’s simply going to disappear, you’re a fucking idiot.
The opposite of good may not necessarily be evil but might just be apathy.
It’s the end of the year, a friend of mine commented on my YouTube video that he was visited a sickly relative, on another app, the same friend said that this relative didn’t want to be seen. It could very well be that the writing’s on the wall. It happens at the shortening of the days. It happened with my maternal grandma and it happened much earlier than we would have predicted.
We are hopeless at predicting, when it’s time, it’s time and it is unimaginably uncomfortable. I remember hearing once, on a TV programme, “death is accepting the unacceptable.” We each have our time on this planet in our current forms.
I don’t want to spend my time being angry but I also must acknowledge the true depth of my anger and find ways to channel it. We have enormous and unending potential to improve things, in big and small ways. We are Children of God, Children of the Universe. We have all of Creation in us.
It’s only recently that I’ve really started thinking about children, that I don’t have any, that I won’t be a father. It’s hit me in a very different and sombre way. I feel a bit sad about it – that my particular line will die with me and my sister. Each of us has many gifts to pass on that will get lost. Indeed, many have told me I’d be a good dad.
I wonder that I have such a drive to offer helpful advice and guidance is to make up for this fact. I must confess, when I talk about living to your true potential, dear reader, I feel rather hypocritical given my position. I feel selfish, entitled and guilty too. But there it is.
Maybe my legacy is my words? It’s possible. I’m good with words, a fluent and articulate thinker, expressive and honest.
I sometimes think I should ‘get myself into trouble’ a bit more, put some more hairs on my chest. I have some skeletons in my closest far more interesting than being gay. I’ll talk about them one day but not now.
We’re at a civilisational crossroads and, whether we believe it or not, we do have a say (and get to decide) what we do with our ancient birthright. I’d love to say I know what that is. We’d all like it to peaceful, I do my level best to make my progress peaceful, a lone pilgrim trying to make sense of things. I have much way to go, I accept more and more as time goes on but it doesn’t stop me being impatient and wanting it all now.
‘It’ – what is this? Maybe this is what ‘children’ is – a continuation, a hope for advancement, a world with ‘us’ in it even after we’re gone.
Massive, unfurling, exceptional potential. We have it. What do we do with it? That, my friend, is the question.