What to do?

  

The cherry tree, whose pink blossoms heralded the approach of Spring, is now bringing on another change as its leaves begin to turn the colour of flames. The apple trees are full of fruit, yellow/green and reds that sparkle in the Autumn sunlight; wasps sleepily devour the fallen, rotting carcasses. Early morning mists can be seen lying across the fields and encircling the far woods; the sun now sets low over the woods behind the house.

As the year slowly settles into deepening Autumn, in gentle stillness some days and wild wet storms on others, modern life continues to unravel. The balance and harmony of the turning year is represented by colours changing, movement of birds and animals and a feeling of preparation for the conservation of energy in anticipation of rebirth. Humanity, so out of touch, scrabbles about to avoid, ignore, and desperately engage with the opening of a new decade of chaos – so much the outcome of greed and self-centred behaviour. 

This morning there is much activity of small birds in the garden; at the base of one of the apple trees a spotted woodpecker is working hard to dislodge the loose bark to find the insects beneath. A strong breeze sends down jewelled leaves that scatter across the grass. 

It appears we are reaching the end as we drown under waves of words and images that are serving to create a two-dimensional world of right or wrong, for or against, you or me. The language of conflict is used to divide and feed ideas of safety in separation. Those who have built walls to protect the obscenity of their wealth and possessions continue to send messages of aspiration to the young – ‘you can be like me if you work hard enough.’ But the reality is that ‘you’ll be working hard to make the likes of me even richer’.

I wrote the last blog on 13th April and it still appears that many countries around the world are struggling to come to terms with Covid-19. It is interesting that a significant number of countries experiencing the greatest chaos are those with male-dominated, authoritarian, nationalist governments, desperately trying to ensure that their backers are making money, whilst simultaneously controlling information and communication so they are not tarnished by the deaths of thousands of their country's inhabitants.

As the cold darkness of a Norther European winter approaches, we face the necessity of relearning our existence; finding out what we need to do to stay healthy, socially alive and exploring what we can do to ensure that harmony, balance and wisdom come to the surface of our daily lives. For not only does it seem that the effects of the virus will not diminish, indeed the winter months are likely to see an increase in infections, but the UK has to contend with Brexit; a project driven by conflict, aggression and misinformation.

What to do?

Coronavirus Blog

A few people were wearing masks when we entered Bangalore airport at five in the morning. The small number of cafes that were there were shut, and not many people were about. It was early February this year.

I found a seat whilst Maggie went to have a look around to see what might be open. It was not long before I became aware of the overweight, old man just a few seats away from me; he was wracked in paroxysms of coughing. His coughs came straight from his lungs as he struggled to dislodge some secretion deep inside, and his faced turned rapidly from white to purple. He did nothing to impede whatever matter was projected from those depths; no handkerchief, no tissue, no crook of the arm, not even a hand. I moved away from him.

When we had taken our seats on the plane the same man came stumbling down the aisle and took his seat with much wheezing and grunting, between two young Indian men not far from where we were sitting. Once he had settled himself, he proceeded to surrender to a succession of coughing fits, much to the disturbance of his neighbours. Luckily, soon after we had taken off, he slept for most of the following ten hours. He was not a well man.


Today is Finley’s twelfth birthday, our eldest grandson living in Worthing, and we are unable to visit him. Last week was the birthday of youngest son, Josh, who lives in Oxford, normally we would see him as well. We have planned to stay with our son, Joel, in Copenhagen next month; and, in early June, we were expecting to visit our eldest son, Tom, in Lisbon. These journeys will not take place.


In India vast numbers of migrant workers have been forced by lockdown to travel from the cities in which they were working to their home villages, the majority having to walk for miles without food and water. For the homeless and the poor, who live in cramped conditions, social distancing is impossible, and access to food has been severely limited. Similar conditions are being experienced throughout the world. Jobs have been lost and incomes have dried up with no prospect of improvement ahead. People are dying attached to machines and connected to tubes, surrounded by nurses and doctors who are only identifiable as human through the outlines of their bodies encased in protective clothing. There are no relatives, no friends to hold them, no human face, no peace. It is a catastrophe well beyond human control.


I am sitting writing this in the warmth of a Spring day masquerading as Summer. The cherry tree has blossomed and is at the stage where the fragile petals are drifting to the ground to be replaced by fresh green leaves. All the trees around have that green sheen of new leaves, bees buzz noisily over the grass from dandelion to daisy and then daisy to dandelion. There are a few new lambs in the field at the end of the garden, and the smell of growth and renewal is in the air. Occasionally the scent of bluebells steals across the land from nearby woods. Birds of all variety are gathering for their nests, singing to each other, calling for new life.

However, there is deep disturbance in the consciousness of humanity. It is, of course, possible to cement that wall around yourself in this world of horrific injustice, greed and self-absorption; what you cannot see does not exist. It is possible to separate yourself from all suffering until it comes knocking on your door. We can drum up the language of war to raise the spectre of the enemy outside with which we are doing battle and indulge in the sentiment of victory or defeat. We look to leaders as if we were compliant children, responding to their words with surges of emotion, taking courage from the illusion that they are acting in the interests of all the population.

Are we learning as this crisis moves from moment to moment? Can we observe any changes taking place in our assumptions? Or are we so fixed on getting through each day and returning to the old normality that we are essentially unaware of what is happening around us?

Our frailty is being exposed; our interdependency highlighted; and the imperative to take care of the vulnerable written clear in the way forward to a more just, sustainable and compassionate planet. We are working for the survival of the species; all living things.


May you be safe and healthy.