‘CRAZY DREAMS ‘ FOR OUR FUTURE
Dominic Cummings took over the Rose Lawn, at Number 10 Downing Street on Monday. He sat at the table. He had a glass of water. His pen was poised over the paper. The reporters queued up to question him. He calmly addressed every query and accusation. His answers were unsatisfactory for the media (and for many Tories). He had ‘previous’ with all of them. They were out to get him and he was an easy target at this time. It was a clay-pigeon shoot. The choreography was rather sharp. He was an advisor to the PM. Nonetheless, he was hosting a Press Conference at No 10. Dominic was the driving force for The Leave Campaign. He was probably the driving force in getting Boris elected leader. He was the driving force, in getting Boris in as PM through the Election. (Get Brexit done). I know that the DUP (with Arlene) and Jeremy, combined as unnatural allies, to ensure that Teresa May didn’t get her more balanced Brexit deal through. However, I think Dominic’s argument, on his family and the trip North towards Durham, made common sense. I’m not a fan of Cummings, but common sense has to prevail. Dominic may have stretched his logic to the limit, but family concerns, do dictate and should.
The Boomtown Rats:
“I don’t’ like Mondays.” (Boomtown Rats). Well actually it is Sundays, I don’t like. It is the longest day of the week. I can’t motivate myself. I can’t read. I can’t do anything. I can’t even rest. Covid 19 is an elongated Sabbatical or an indeterminate sentence (prison life.) I used to think that a Sabbatical was a luxury, that few could afford. But this enforced Sabbatical is tedious. Covid has weaned all of us off Religious Rituals and the usual structure of daily life. We are at sea. The waves are unpredictable. We are suffering from sea-sickness. We are provoked/challenged to be different and adventurous. Launch out into the deep!! Indeed. But so many consider us too old to matter anyway. We are refugees in search of a new land. No one will welcome us. We are a burden on society. Who wants to listen to those who are washed up on the beach like driftwood (marine debris)? We get a pat on the head and are told to stay safe but to keep out of the way.
The Full Monty:
A film appeared in 1997. It was classified as a Comedy but that was a misnomer. There was nothing funny about it. It was called The Full Monty. It focused on unemployment and the damage it did. How it feels to be unemployed. What it is like to be redundant. How hurtful it is, to be useless. These men came up with an idea. They would put on a Show. The practice for the Show gave the men a purpose each day. The Strippers’ performance wasn’t prurient. They were naked. Their lives had lost meaning. They were stripped by life. They felt useless. They were empty. It is a rather profound portrayal, of the reality of unemployment. A job gives definition to life and to the day and gives status. It isn’t only about money. I don’t know would The Full Monty compete with Calendar Girls or with Patricia the Stripper (Chris de Burgh et alia). But this same issue, is now is a major challenge in our Communities. How many feel the insecurity of life, due to the lockdown; due to the collapse of working opportunities, due to an uncertain future; due to all the familiar load-bearing walls of life collapsing; due to being considered old?
The Heron and the Swans (on the Tolka) have produced GDPR as a stock answer to those who want to interfere with their privacy. They will appeal to the EU if people continue to take photos. They change their positions each morning to avoid the glare of the public. How dare we assume a right to intrude? I disagree with much of the nonsense around GDPR but I understand the fundamentals and agree with the Swans and the Heron. I didn’t tell them but I am searching each day for a Kingfisher. I might even take a photo (with permission!) Another young lady also has a GDPR problem. A little one called Indi, rings me every night. She complains about her parents. They treat her as a baby. She is annoyed. She protests that she is now 9 weeks old and isn’t a baby. When they start cooing over her and using baby talk; she simply tunes out. She also wants to know her rights. Can they continue to take photos and make videos without her permission and circulate them to the wider family? Why she would expect me to know; I haven’t a clue.
Hand on the baton:
My cowslip arrived for Easter Sunday. It decided on Ascension day, that it was time to wave goodbye. It didn’t soar into the sky but it did announce its departure. It had come for Easter and its work was over. It is now up to the rest of us to brighten up life for everyone. The ‘baton’ is handed on. In the relay race of life, I am very moved with the many Funerals taking place. In the Estates, people line up to wave the Funeral off. I go to the Church and watch as the coffin is taken in. I feel a great sense of loss that I can’t take part or attend, as do so many others. Yes. These people leave us. With their history; with their experience; with their affection and love; with their presence among us. They too wave goodbye. They hand on the baton. Like the cowslip, they have their Ascension. There is a huge sense of loss.
I dipped into The Late Late Show for a few minutes. Imelda May was on. I didn’t recognise her without her swirl of fat hair. She recited her poem. “Stay. Wake. Read. Wait. Watch. Stay away the worry.” I don’t know whether she sang or not. I liked her words. They may even apply to those of us who are officially ancient and useless. We are put out to grass. We are in the waiting room. Sometimes we even feel, that we still have something to give, from our experience of living. We haven’t stopped learning either. I know our sell-bye date is written on our name tag. I liked the poem by Elizabeth Bishop – In The Waiting Room. It is the story of a six year old at the dentist as she looks at a National Geographic. She has a confusion of thoughts. We appear to be in the waiting room queuing for the undertaker. We never knew we were ancient, until we were cocooned. Is there anyone out there, interested in what we might have to say, before we disappear? Or is there anyone out there at all?
Moses received the Law. What about us? The wind. The fire. Courage. Strength. Can-do. Get-up-and-go. Fire in the belly. Boldness. Confidence. Self-belief. Wake up to the possibilities. Imagination. Power. Wonder. Awesomeness. Seeing eyes. Creativity. Kiss-of-life. Fearlessness. Immanuel. Adventurous. Trusting others. Empowering. Handing on and handing over. A new Spring. Speaking all languages – care, love, heart, understanding, acceptance, respect. Get rid of formality and functionality. Drop the apathy, lethargy, torpor. Our Church should be bursting with life, with fire, with heart, with fun, with laughter, with hope, with excitement, with exuberance, with a sense of adventure. Never mind the problems. Get rid of the whingers and the moaners. See life as opportunity and challenge. God is with us. We have been given the Spirit. We can do anything and everything. If our faith is real. The Acts of the Apostles did it. History shows us how it has been done. We look at our own Community and see how people have blossomed. We celebrate the miracle of God among us. That is the very meaning of Parish life. This is the Feast. Powerful.
Seamus Ahearne osa
PS Was Leo preparing to be redundant as Taoiseach, when he was stripping in Phoenix Park last weekend?