From the
snow capped mountains I walk across the brown-green fells of the Lake District,
up past the noisy waterfall to the placid tarn – a place of mirrors and
reflections… As the logs crackle in the
fire and sparks explode when they are moved, thoughts move from past, to
present, to future…. Is it possible to
live without conflict?
What of my
young friends? I wonder if I might call
you friends; you who have been the students with whom I have shared my life
during the past three decades and more; despite the pressure to control, to
manage and make demands, maybe there was some sense of affection. And what of the students who, in two day’s
time, will return to the school community of which I am now part? In this environment, pressure, control and
authority are the subjects of questioning, and affection is seen as an
essential element in living. My young
life, like many others of my generation and background, was almost completely
devoid of affection – it was not part of the education, an education that was
specifically designed to produce rulers of the world! I have learnt affection through my
relationship with my wife, my children, through friendship and through nature.
I watch the light on the snow as we drive away
from our week of reflection and activity together. Fresh snow has fallen in the night, whilst
coming as heavy rain into the valleys.
Even from this distance the newness of the snow creates a cleansing
effect on the mind and, for a fleeting moment, there is a sense that this mind
soars like an eagle, hovers over those softened sharp rocks and gazes down on
this magnificent scene.
Our own
children are caught in the conflict between the creative and the mundane. And, as a family we sit by the fire of a
house we have now deserted, consider and explore together the need to earn
money to exist, whilst maintaining vital involvement in writing, music and art which
give our lives meaning. Our sons still
hold on to their profound interests whilst all the time they are under siege
from the world of exploitation, aspiration and conformity.
So, my
friends, as it is the beginning of a new year and I have had the birthday which
takes my aging, hesitant steps further into my seventh decade, may I ask your
permission to participate in your revolution? I know it is going on. I have seen it in the eyes of the young and
not so young in many places of the world.
I have seen it in the faces of the children who refuse to be coerced, to
fit in despite the weight of the adult world that in its stupidity and
arrogance thinks it knows how we all should live. I saw it a few days ago in as I was sitting
on a rock by a lake eating my lunch after a walk that took me past that noisy,
tumbling waterfall. I saw it in the
smiles of the two children feeding the ducks and laughing as their big, black
dog plunged in to deprive the birds of their food. I heard it in the call and laughter of their
mother and the accompanying laughter of strangers. I see it in my grandson in his second year of
school, who loves learning; and my other grandson, who is in his third year of
life and loves living.
Will you let
me join you in negating a world that supports violence; that accepts people
being driven out of their homes in Syria, Sudan and many other places in the
world? I will question with you the values in life
that put the earning of money and owning of things as more important than
treating the earth and all it contains with care and affection. And, as I move with that sureness of step
which unites us all in death, I will give you what little insight and
understanding I have to contribute to the conversation that feeds your
revolution. But I will not hate; I will
not lead, for that implies followers and then you have already joined the deadly
game; I will not specialise in exams, academic theories or intellectual speculation;
above all I will not be part of a movement!
A friend in
India once called Maggie and me, ‘nomadic cross-pollinators’, as we travelled
around the country having discussions with many people and observing the
different work that was being done to alleviate poverty, engage with social
justice, tackle environmental degradation and bring about a transformation of
human thinking. It is possible that this
is what I can give to this process of revolution – for the revolution is not
like any other that has gone before it.
There may be enemies, but there is no blueprint or dominant ideology;
there is urgency, but that urgency consists of moving slowly and carefully for
there are many traps; and above all there is no separation, because it is that very
process of fragmentation that has brought us to the necessity of the
revolution.
Perhaps we
can talk about this?
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