Aimless pondering on a #SilentSunday
I often wake to find my eyes feel sensitive to light. All the more when in need of a lie-in. Watery and still partially gummed together, I squint at my phone to check the time, need a glass of water, take a pee and I realise, like it or not, I am up. Ugh, I ate too much spicy pizza last night. Quietly, I note that there's clutter all around me. Too many clothes turning into heaps. Too much food in the fridge collectively fermenting. Too many empty cartons denied recycling. Too many noises outside already. Beeps, engines, voices. Chores everywhere. So I turn once again to my phone, still barely able to focus. It began innocently. A short from a women who does a dance. Then one about the Truman show. Then Isabel Oakeshott whining about brown people again. Then opinions on our pdf elites. Then war. Our wars
And I glance around at the heaps and the piles and note the vague aroma of decay. Eyes beginning to see more clearly. Life was better when I had less. Less stuff, fewer chores, not so many demands for my attention, fewer assaults on my senses
I flicked off my phone, felt the soreness in my eyes tick down a level and a sense of relief wash over me. My mind steadied somewhat as I was left pondering. We've all been turned into this. Overloaded, overfed, oversaid
All the mountains of unaddressed opinions in the world are no substitute for space. What use this assault that overwhelms my senses? Does more to see make me see better? Does more to say make me wise?
We all played our part, but it's only when I have put the phone down and walked far into the hills back into the timeless now that I know. They gave us this overwhelm, this clutter, this exhaustion, deliberately. The endless purveyors of opinion, factoid and farce. They gave us this sense of futility and our paralysis. They gave us this little electronic podium to opine from and make purchases upon. And they gave me this sore tummy that I can only blame myself for
Someone, somewhere, probably on their yacht, probably moored off of a nice island, must have realised it one day. With all the time in the world, the luxury of a wide open ocean before them and only their next blood sacrifice to think of. They must have realised that if the wood to build guillotines is out there in the wide open spaces, then the people must forget spaces exist
And the real eureka moment was when they realised if it would take nothing for people to want to place their heads on the block, then the People must be robbed..
Of nothing