Why do I want to blog? …

… Don’t I have enough problems in my life as it is?

I remember one particular incident from my childhood that has left an indelible mark on my awareness. In 5th class in National School (i.e., Primary School) in the harbour town of Cobh (formerly Queenstown) on the South coast of Ireland, I was at the age when young Catholic boys and girls were prepared for the religious rite of passage known as “Confirmation“. This meant, according to the Church, that we were now of an age to be classified as “strong and perfect Christians”, ready to take responsibility for our own lives. It also meant that we had to face an examination on religious doctrine based upon our knowledge of the little book called the “Catechism“. It cost about three pence and was the cheapest and smallest book on our prescribed list of school books. In this Age of Austerity and Financial Chaos, three pence was the price of a small bag of toffee sweets. In today’s parlance we would say it was “as cheap as a fiddler’s fart”, meaning that it was noticeable but commonplace.

The Catechism was divided into two parts. The first part occupied the initial third of the booklet and was in the format of Questions and Answers on essential religious topics; essential, that is, in the post-War years of the late 1940s/early 1950s.  It was printed in scary bold print and, as far as my memory now goes back over 78 years, it dealt with such basic questions as:

  • Q. “Who made the world?”
    A. “God”
  • Q. “List the Ten Commandments”
    A. …. and so on.

I must admit now, to my eternal shame, that I have forgotten the First Commandment. That is because we learned all those things by rote in those days. That meant, one had to take a deep breath and list them mindlessly and at speed. Nevertheless, you will probably have already got the gist of the level of theological knowledge required of those of us desirous to be “strong and faithful Christians”. The boldly printed Qs and As represented 99% of the content of our half-hour religious instruction classes.

The other two-thirds of the Catechism was printed in faded grey, visually unthreatening, print. It followed the same format as the first one-third but the Questions were longer and so were the Answers. This part occupied 1% of class time during the year. And as we had learned in our Mathematics classes, numbers like 99.74  could sensibly be rounded up to 100% and welcomed with a satisfied release of breath because nobody with any sense would notice the difference anyway. Essentially it meant that it was required to justify the printing of the Catechism and charging thruppence, but could safely be ignored. Ignored, that is, by 99.99% of the indocrinees. [Editor’s note: “Is there such a word as “indoctrinee” and if so, what does it mean? My reply: “I know what it means to me and 99.999% of my readers will know instinctively what it means”]. And, as I was saying, it could be ignored by 99.99% … but not by me. Perhaps I wasn’t properly potty-trained in those baby years, and taught the essential rule in life, that is, to know when enough is enough, or else, to learn “to shit or get off the pot”. Wherever the instinct came from, I always wanted to know What and Why and When and How and Where and Who. And so, I read the entire Catechism from beginning to end. I was prepared for the Great Day!

The Great Day arrived and all the boys (we were a “boys only” school, but I shall return to that traumatic experience later, don’t worry) in my class and those from Sixth Class were rounded up and marched into Mr. Sullivan’s classroom which was the only room big enough to accommodate all those little boys, plus the teachers of those classes, plus the Bishop, the Parish Priest, the local Canon, the Diocesan Administrator,and one or two other priestly supporters. We were arraigned, standing stiffly upright, along three walls of the classroom, whilst the Bishop, an elderly cleric who wore a formal black coat, with black trousers, gaiters and buttoned-up boots, a formal purple shirt, and a big signet ring which townspeople kissed when they bobbed courteously on meeting His Lordship on his daily trip from the Bishop’s Palace to St Colman’s Cathedral and back again. You see, we in Cobh Boys National School were privileged to live in the town which was the epicentre of the Diocese of Cloyne. I was never sure why the centre of the Diocese of Cloyne was located in Cobh and not in the village of Cloyne on the Eastern end of Cork Harbour. But more about that later if I find an explanation.

After a few words of grovelling welcome from the School Principal the Bishop started with the first boy on his left and asked a question chosen randomly from the Catechism. The boy answered with the word-perfect answer from the first third of the Catechism. A slightly perceptible communal release of breath and communal tension could be felt. We were off to a flying start. Teachers’ faces allowed a slight sign of relief.; a slight nod of heads to one another suggested perhaps more than relief was felt. With a plodding determination the Bishop moved on, each boy answered with almost military precision. The authority figures around His Lordships chair and small table relaxed and even smiled with approbation. I was standing in the corner of the back of the class on the left, so I could not see those answering before it came to my turn. As it did. A slight quickening of the pulse, increased focus on the sequence of the content of the questions, a little lick of the lips and three long, deep breaths and exhalation, a trick taught to me by my mother who was a singer, contralto with the local Gilbert and Sullivan and light opera groups in Cobh; she assured me that it worked every time for her as she waited in the wings to make her entrance on stage. I was as relaxed as I could be and prepared. The bishop looked up from his list of boys, and stern-faced, ask me my question. I couldn’t believe my luck! God and the heavenly hosts of Angels, Archangels, Saints, Martyrs (both male and female) were smiling on me. I felt and dimly perceived the Cone of Heavenly light shining on me. The question he asked wasn’t exactly straight out of the grey, forgotten two-thirds of the Catechism but I saw the connection and I answered with confidence.

“Wrong answer”, said the Bishop; and turned his attention to the next boy. It was then I heard The Voice saying: “I’m sorry, my Lord, but I think I am right”.

I have heard a recording of the Golden Gate Quartet, sing “Joshua fit the Battle of Jericho, Jericho, and them Walls came a-tumblin’ down”. I realised immediately that The Voice was actually My Voice. In the shocked silence that followed I almost expected the school walls to tumble down. But no, they didn’t. I suppose you will have noticed at certain times in your own life, that Time, our perceived time, seems to speed up and at other times it slows down. Like in a dream when you run for your life through a bog that holds your feet in its grasp and everything is in slow motion, Or as in Shaolin meditation where you meditate to the regular beat of a brick being tapped with a wooden mallet. By focusing on the “click … click … click …” of the beat, the mind goes into meditative contemplation of the Cosmic Oneness and Time stands still as the meditator enters into the sublime Cosmic Oneness. Modesty stops me making such cosmic comparisons in that instance. But everything stood still and then in slow motion I remember the assembled aides and supporters gathering in a huddle around the Bishop. And I didn’t pee or shit myself with fright either!

His entourage relaxed a little and dispersed to their positions in the tableau. The Bishop removed his spectacles and fixing his rheumy eyes unblinkingly on me. he said: “You didn’t speak loudly enough, boy, so I misheard what you said. You should learn to speak up. Next boy, please.” Have you noticed in your own life, that those in authority rarely, if ever, apologise but always imply that their mistake was your fault?

excelsior
A banner with the strange device, Excelsior

The experience has burned a banner with a strange device into my conscious awareness. It has become my mantra over the years. It has bolstered my confidence in difficult times and re-assured  me with its consolation when everything around me has been falling apart. The flaming letters of the mantra spell out “QUESTION AUTHORITY”. It is the underlying principle of free humans, it is the foundation stone of democracy, and my goodness, does it screw up the plans and tilt the table when those same authorities are imposing their will. If nothing else, it signals to would-be dictators that it’s time to shit or get off the pot.

Why question authority? Why not!

Our best option then is to block the Government’s control of our lives by planned citizen actions of non-compliance with their rules while still remaining within the law.

When the Pope visits Ireland on Saturday 25 August next, he will make a private visit to the Capuchin Day Centre in Dublin for about 2 hours. And then he and his entourage will move to Croke Park to attend the “Feast of Families“.

I am extremely disturbed by the news that “the authorities” in Dublin are making contingency plans to “hide” (my words) the homeless families, homeless children, distressed and disturbed adults and children who sleep on the streets, by forcibly removing them outside the Pale overnight. Or maybe the homeless and dispossessed will conspire albeit unwillingly with their oppressors and go without a murmur. I am even more dismayed and disturbed by the comparative silence of the Irish public on hearing this news.

What message is this behaviour sending to the spirits of the children who were born in the captivity of Mother and Baby “homes” and buried secretly in holes in the ground or dumped in cesspits? What message is this sending to those who have lived their lives with the mark of evil stamped on them and on their human spirit, and on their families by successive governments who didn’t show care, or understanding or forgiveness for fear that it might undermine the unholy alliance of Church and State in buggering and bastardising the poor and innocent? What message does the behaviour of our, yes, OUR Government, send out to people of this country, and to the world at large about our priorities?

Is our Government and our entire Dáil and Seanad and the entire apparatus of State bereft of authority and power and ability to take action, or are they afraid of what might happen to them at the hands of international global capitalism and the eroded democracies of Europe if they were to wake up to their responsibilities to the people and do something? Are the Irish people themselves so dumbed down and silenced that we can turn a blind eye, and a deaf ear, to the pain of fellow citizens, both old and new? What are we afraid of? Why don’t we speak up as a people and say “Stop! Enough! We will have no more of this!” Or are we just afraid of fear itself and how it might upset our cosy yet impoverished lives! We seem to settle for blind rage and name calling and verbal violence on the social media to give us an escape from taking real action to make changes. Vain dreams and foolish waking!

Sun Tzu, in “The Art of War”, the most important and most famous military treatise from China for the last two thousand years, wrote: “Plan for what is difficult while it is still easy, do what is great while it is still small”. We have now gone beyond the stage where our problems were easy (oh! if only we had had the wit to tackle them then) or small (because then we had the money to tackle them and plan for the future). But Sun Tzu had further advice that we might now heed, even at this stage: Thus the highest form of generalship is to frustrate and block the enemy’s plans; the next best is to prevent the coming together of the enemy’s forces; the next in order is to attack the enemy’s army in the field; and the worst policy of all is to besiege walled cities.

Let’s translate that from the military, agressive language into advice for peaceful citizen action. The best option for us now is to frustrate the Governments plans where they undermine us as citizens of an independent country; the next best option is to block them where possible from combining with other governments and institutions to undermine our rights as citizens; the next is to respond violently with protests and demonstrations; and the worst option of all is to try to unseat them from their positions of power in the State. We have seen where the “Water protests” got with all their good intentions. Nowhere. We have participated as individuals and in groups in street protests and action groups against homelessness, against incompetence and abuse of power in the health system. Our educational system no longer prepares our young people for meaningful work in society, but instead schools them by rote in the regurgitation of “approved” responses to problems without ever understanding the nature of the problem. Our best option then is to block the Government’s control of our lives by planned citizen actions of non-compliance with their rules while still remaining within the law.

The simplest way of starting on this path is to QUESTION AUTHORITY! For instance, in regard to the Pope’s visit, by all means greet him if you feel you owe allegiance to what he represents. Otherwise, go about your own business and ignore the visit. If the Dublin authorities decide to hide the obscenity of homelessness, one option is, for those who object, to allow those who are taken out of sight to be accommodated safely overnight elsewhere, but perhaps they could be replaced on the streets at night by stand-in or even “sleep out” replacements. While the public representatives go about their self-styled business of colluding with the niceties of so-called “civilised societies” no one is forced to come out and cheer. There are lots of ways to starve those in power by gradually withdrawing our authority from them because, and don’t forget this, it was we who democratically elected them and gave them that authority in the first place. Let’s see how they fare without our complicity in their self-aggrandizement. Remember the words of James Connolly from a century ago: “The great seem great because we are on our knees. Let us arise.” Meanwhile, we need to start planning now how we are going to rescue our society before homo sapiens becomes yet another branch of humanity to be lost in the process of evolution.

Oh Joy! Oh Bliss! Oh Rapture! Let Happiness now hap!

As you know, we all have our own little ways of making a house a home and I assumed that worms operating in a different sphere to me would most likely prefer to do it their way.

Oh Joy! Oh Bliss! Oh Rapture! Let Happiness now hap!

Today is another positive step in my efforts to develop a sustainable, independent way of life and living? “So what?” you may well chorus. Indeed so. But I am now equipped with a compost heap (five in fact!), a warm and healthy  wormery, and the crowning jewel, or jewels rather, two Bokashi Buckets. This means that from now on, I have no need to waste money on refuse collection services and no corresponding “opportunity” to finance the State or Local Authority for collecting my (and your) waste to compost it centrally and then to sell the compost back to me to feed my garden. My next target is (hopefully) to get a few SEAI grants to insulate my cottage and conserve heat, to add solar panels to provide free electricity and then finally to go off-grid. Freedom and Fun!

 

wormeryIt has to be admitted though that it has also been a painful learning experience. I have a confession to make. I have been using a wormery for a few years now and gradually learning how make effective use of it. Unfortunately, the wormery developed a crack in the base just where one of the legs joins the bottom “floor” and started to leak the fluid which is a very valuable bye-product and plant food. I stopped using it and bought another wormery … as I thought.

My Silver Palace Composter
My Silver Palace Wormery

This was a metal construction, very sturdy and impressive. It was described on the company’s web site as being a wormery. In my untutored eyes it was the Harley Davidson of wormeries. I also invested in 1 kg of Tiger worms because those from the previous wormery had by now escaped into the wilderness that is my front garden. I hasten to add that my garden is a wilderness by choice because I have been following a course in permaculture design and I am learning to read the strengths and weaknesses of my small holding as part of preparing my overall plan and map for my 2 hectare holding.

 

I read the instructions carefully. In all modesty I can say that I am an eager reader of instructions and I follow them assiduously. Especially those originating abroad and which were translated into English by a junior secretary or office gopher to help their boss and save on the expense of a professional translator. I soaked the coir block overnight in water to provide the initial base for the wormery and laid newspaper over the screen at the bottom so that the worms would not slip through the drainage holes and be lost. And then, in a touching private ceremony, I introduced the worms to their new home. As a shamanic practitioner I dedicated their work and mine to the good of all our relatives on the planet, human, animal, plant, natural resources, rocks, you name it. I could feel the love of Mother Earth and Father Sky enveloping us. As advised I gave the worms time to settle for a few day and get their living conditions sorted out. As you know, we all have our own little ways of making a house a home and I assumed that worms operating in a different sphere to me would most likely prefer to do it their way. A few days later when I opened their Silver Palace I was shattered to discover that a seeming massacre had taken place. There were black streaks tarnishing the inside walls of the wormery but not a worm in sight or on site. I couldn’t understand how they could have escaped and was puzzled by their apparent “break-out” … until last week, that is.

I had by now decided to try my hand with a Bokashi bucket. I was driven to that by having undergone ten days without electricity during the recent heat wave as a result of a bureaucratic stand-off and bungle which pincered me in the grip of a Wifi supplier and a State utility. As a result I had to empty my fridge and freezer and clean it out completely. I haven’t needed to use the refuse bin for several months now being, as I try to be, an almost-Vegan and 90% Vegetarian who is also religion averse. But the waste collectors would not accept my rotting meat, fish, and veggies in the recycle bin for composting. They slapped a big sticker on the blue bin labelling it “contaminated”. That is when I decided to step into Bokashi buckets, figuratively that is, of course. A quick search on the theme of recycling contaminated food and I found my way via “composting toilets” (which are also on my list, but further down) to Bokashi Buckets. I thought it odd when I saw a picture of my above-mentioned Silver Palace wormery, but now masquerading as a BB. I didn’t ponder deeply on it because it seemed to be the immediate answer to my problem of recycling rotten food before the health authorities stepped in.

Bokashi Kitchen Bucket
Bokashi Kitchen Bucket

So, when earlier today a courier delivered my new Bokashi Kitchen Bucket,  I settled down to read the instructions carefully and began to assemble it. Smaller than the silver wormery I have described above, it soon became obvious to me that the components were the same in each. Interesting! Then I read the words “anaerobic environment” and the scales fell from my eyes. To be honest, it felt more like slates being ripped off the roof of my house in a hurricane. I now had to admit to myself that unintentially but with ignorance guiding me I had committed genocide on a kilogram of Tiger worms, a whole city full of Nature’s hardest, unheralded and undemanding workers. The awful truth now screamed at me: “Worms need air to breathe and therefore cannot exist in anaerobic conditions. You, ya eejit, signed their death warrants when you sealed them up for three days in a coir bed in an air-tight container.”

 

There now, I’ve gotten it off my chest. I am a changed person. I now know what not to do. Tomorrow a new adventure starts. Not a worm will be put in the Bokashi Kitchen Bucket and a new coir block will herald a new era of wormery. I think that a different launch ceremony will be necessary to convince the worms that they are safe and that they will be needed for their skill elsewhere than in a bucket. The philosopher (unqualified) in me is even beginning to think that this experience might, as a metaphor, have relevance in the Middle East.

Banking for Dummies

Dateline: Friday June 8, 2018

In today’s Irish Times, it is reported that Supporters of a radical scheme to upend Switzerland’s financial system have made an 11th hour appeal to voters to approve a proposal to strip banks of the power to create new money through lending”. What a brilliant initiative and about time. I’ve just had a dust-up with my own bank, y’know, (Well, I don’t actually own it but you know what I mean) because they have the nasty, sneaky, practice of taking money out of my back pocket and giving it to people they don’t know without asking my permission. If I want to pay a bill, but don’t have enough money to cover it, then, of course, they will slap me (metaphorically, of course, across the knuckles) and say “No, no, no, you naughty man, not till we tell you that you can”. Well, what they are actually doing is processing incoming debits before my pension is lodged. They could have done it in the other sequence of first lodging my pension, and then peeling off enough to pay the incoming demands, which, I hasten to add, are legitimate. I have checked with a few other people including small businesses and the same is happening to them. As we already know, the banks are now completely controlled by computers and human staff reduced to work like robots, while their directors behave towards the public like Daleks in Dr. Who?

The trick, just in case you didn’t know, is that the system pays incoming POS (point-of-sale) requests from traders from whom you have bought something or (in my case) with whom you have a standing order for regular subscriptions. Then, if the account balance is low and there is not enough in the account at that instant, the debit is made in any case, putting the account into the red, incurring a penalty charge. When the debits have been processed, any incoming credits, e.g., my pension, are then processed, and (in my case) bring the account back into the black but with the effect of effectively reducing my pension sometimes by up to 20%.

Now if the sequence were the other way around I would not have paid any penalties in my nearly 20 years with the Bank! I have gone to the trouble of graphing my bank balance against time since I first opened the account in 2003. The clear pattern emerged that shows that anytime I have incurred a penalty was between 02.00h and 04.00h on Friday mornings. In the middle of the night! This is when all, or nearly all, of the bank staff and their families, are in the arms of Morpheus. That is also when I am usually asleep. But, as they say, money never sleeps. Note this, however, someone chose to brief the IT people in the Bank to devise that system. In that way. On the few occasions where I had been hit badly and painfully by the process I challenged them and lodged official complaints.

I should explain that my complaints were always on an ethical, moral, even a philosophical  basis. I think that it doesn’t sound right to speak about money as if it were something dirty and grubby. But then I don’t really understand finance. Between you and me and the wall, I believe that money is an imaginary entity, a concept without a reason, a spirit without a body. My sympathies have always been with the Unwise Virgins. Why should any normal young woman, keep her wick trimmed and her lamp lit in the middle of the night just in case her boss came home late and on the off-chance that he might have lost his keys. Indeed I often wondered why those Virgins, Wise and Unwise, didn’t join up with the Labourers in the Vineyard while the Boss was away. I’d say now that Ten Unwise Virgins would have sorted out those Vineyard boyos, whether they came late or early. Any way, back to my complaints. One of them was acknowledged by the Complaints Department who promised to reply to my complaint within a fortnight. That was two years ago and I still have not received a reply! But me being a “cute hoor” I’m still counting down on the clock! There could be one hell of a fairy goodwill gesture in the pipeline. Hope springs eternal in the human breast.

The other magic trick to look out for is what I call “The Ride of the Little Old Man”. When someone transfers money to me it doesn’t show up in my account for about four days. The same is true if I am sending money to you. It goes out of my account immediately but won’t show up in your account for about another four days either. Where has the money been for those four days? Well, in the old days, when the bank officials wrote with quill pens and home-made ink, it did genuinely take time to record every single transaction, have it checked, signed off by the manager, and details sent to the Central Bank or wherever for whatever central banks do with that information. In fact, they sent a little old man on a high Nelly bicycle with a big woven-willow delivery box hanging off the handlebars, and it full of envelopes containing all the financial information to stoke the financial fires of the Central Bank.

Needless to say, given his age he probably stopped off every now and then to slake his thirst, chat with the lads, you know yourself. But that was back then. And it took time for the L.O.M to get there and back. And certainly he had to make more than one journey of it. And that was a thirst-creating job. And stressful in the extreme. And now? Well, you know, traditions die hard in these great, important, financial institutions. And they have maintained the tradition of “The Little Old Man” to bring a whiff of nostalgia and a stabilising sense of tradition to the business.

You have only to look at their advertisements on the telly to see how much they care about young couples starting out, starry-eyed on life’s journey, having smiling babies, buying their first house. The same financial institutions are also thoughtful to take care of the money saved up by the elderly for their retirement and, sure, isn’t that why they are smiling and untroubled by anxiety, even though their eldest son is still sleeping at home on the coach. He is at least married but his wife and children are with her mother’s people. The elderly smiling couple alluded to above. At least, the fees for the photo shoots might pay for tomorrow’s dinner. And so on. You are doubtless impressed by the care and forethought of the financial institutions, aren’t you? Like *%^??#?/*%^??#?/ (expletives deleted). Oh, and by the way, whenever I have complained very LOUDLY, and remonstrated, and used very strong undeleted language, do you know what? Within a week a fairy seems to have sent me a “goodwill gesture”. At least, that’s what it said on my account statement, the gesture, I mean. Not the fairy. And now, in my “cere and yellow years”, that’s why I still believe in the good fairy, the tooth fairy, and the f-f-f-f-f-inancial f-f-f-f-airy!

Goodnight now to children everywhere. Sleep tight and don’t let the bugs bite. Don’t forget to say a little prayer to Holy God, for your local Bank Manager and Bank Directors. And don’t forget the Swiss Banks as well. Sure, don’t they all need the odd oul’ prayer to protect them? Because they don’t know the day nor the hour when the Law Officer will come knocking on the door. “I’d like to invite you to come down to the Station with me to answer a few little questions”. Cometh the day, cometh the sentence! And, of course, it’s about time, isn’t it? The longer the time the better, sez you!

Filming an Owl at Night

Democracy wishes to elevate mankind to teach it to think, to set it free. It seeks to set it free. It seeks to remove from culture the stamp of privilege and disseminate it among the people

Dateline: Sunday June 3 2018 13.00h

Shillelagh, Co. Wicklow, Ireland

When I checked my mail and incoming messages this morning, I found a post from my friend and translation guru, #Antain_ Mac_Lochlainn

Mick and thoul

This is it!

Why is today’s Google Doodle an image of Mick McCarthy filming an owl?

Ever the one for the smart-arse reply, I penned the following and went about my day.

i think that th’oul owl is holding the prompt sheet for Mick while he is operating a concealed but very sophisticated ballistic missile guidance system of North Korean origin to assassinate the woodpecker, who, as every Irish Soccer supporter knows, is a symbol representing our renowned Keano (nudge, nudge) Cork hit-man, who was always pecking away at poor Mick and making his life a misery as manager of the national team. The image of the stag in the background is a literary allusion to the words of the German poet who wrote that “the Irish will always drag down a noble stag”.

Introduction:

I admit, after that response, I felt a nagging regret that I couldn’t remember the name of the German poet who made that remark. Perhaps the reader would get the impression that the quote was composed by me and think I was initiating an assault on the people of Ireland. I get enough abuse as it is for some of my sharper comments about Irish life, so I did a Google search to see if I could get evidence to clarify the origin. And I did.

I got a real shock when I followed the thread of the search. I then purchased an online e-book (referenced below) to confirm the details and got further information. C.J. Jung was right. There is such a thing as coincidence. But there is also synchronicity. I will let Jung speak for himself and when you finish reading come back here and see what it means in practice: Link <http://www.thinking-minds.net/carl-jung-synchronicity/>

It reaches parts of the brain that ordinary thinking hasn’t reached.

Reference:

“Blood Kindred – W.B.Yeats – “The Life, the Death, the Politics”

by W.J. McCormack

Publisher Pimlico 2005

Epub ISBN 9781446444245This link will take you to the book I refer to in the blog


And so the story begins … … tread softly, and all that jazz!

In Ireland in the late 1920s and early 1930s, after the Civil War, there was a period of unsettled ideas during which there were attempts made to re-orientate an emerging Irish national identity. Think: de Valera and comely maidens dancing at the cross-roads whilst lusty young men were batin’ the tar out of one another in the field over the ditch. At the same time a younger Sean Lemass was dreaming determinedly of clouds of smoke from industrial activity over the Lakes of Killarney, bringing pollution (what’s that) and prosperity (yes, please) to a fairly poverty afflicted country. Around the same period, anti-Semites were also emerging as a result of World War 1. In the ferment of ideas, attempts were made to create links between Irish aspirations and the developing ideas in Europe concerning nationhood. And the names of many that are known to us and revered by us now, such as, W.B.Yeats were caught up in that debate. There was also, Maud Gonne who was one of Yeats’ “intimate” friends who also, it appears, had anti-Semitic leanings. Incidentally, one of the first files opened on a citizen by G2, the Irish Army Intelligence Unit, was opened on said Maud Gonne. The celebrity list is long so try googling a few other names that come to your mind.

Links were being identified between anti-Semitism and the rise of totalitarianism in Europe in the first half of the 20th century. The poets Ezra Pound (America) and T.S.Eliot (England) expressed strong views on Fascism in general. Yeats joined with them but he was more interested in events developing in Italy under Mussolini. Pound and Eliot commented on the threats posed by Jews and Judaism to what Ezra Pound regarded as a “civilised society”, e.g., his own America and Eliot’s England. In Germany Karl von Ossietsky was committed to a Nazi concentration camp in the late 1930s because he was a Gentile who defended the Jews from the anti-Semites. His supporters petitioned the Nobel Peace Prize Committee to award their peace prize to Ossietsky. Yeats’ friend, Ethel Mannin also supported their petition. Yeats wrote to her: “If the Nobel Society did what you want, it would seem to the majority of the German people that the Society hated their Government for its politics not because it was inhuman”. This refusal by Yeats to offer public support for a Gentile victim of Nazism has led some people to suggest that Yeats was a supporter of Nazism. But the story was not clearly black and white regarding Yeats. The emerging information of implied friendship between Yeats and notable Jews he met in Ireland was seen by some as evidence of a vague kind of affinity between the two nations, the Irish and the Jews, because they were both perceived to be victims of history and of persecution.

While Yeats was touring in the United States in 1920 he publicly supported the Palestine Restoration Fund (PRF). This should NOT be confused with today’s Palestine Liberation Front! The PRF was an initiative of the Zionist movement which had been launched to establish a permanent Jewish homeland. This seemed to raise doubts about where Yeats really stood on the situation. How could he support the promotion of a Jewish homeland and at the same time fail to confront a German State that was publicly hostile to the Jews. Truth is we do not know for sure whom he was supporting.

The Balfour Declaration (1926 and 1930) was not clear in its intentions. Was it actually supporting the creation of a new homeland for the Jewish diaspora? Was it part of Britain’s imperial policy for expansion including the Middle East? Or did it owe something to the apparently parallel histories of the Irish and the Jews? Don’t forget also that W.T. Cosgrave, President of the Executive Council of the Irish Free State, was an official representative of the new Irish State at that meeting so the views of the Irish Government were being expressed also! Or, indeed, was the aim of the founding and establishing of a “home” for the Chosen People (i.e., the Jews) a conspiracy to get the Jews out of Europe and dump them on some other part of the world. Uganda and Alaska had been mooted as alternative sites where they might find room and be removed from their problematic presence in a Europe which was divided about their presence!

Other information adduced about Yeats’ attitudes were based upon the occasion in August 1928 when he was accused of being very rude to Erich Gottgetram, a Jew, when they both were house guests at Coole Park, Maud Gonne’s family home in Sligo. The evidence is slim and the interpretations many! But in McCormack’s book referenced above he suggests that Maud Gonne was in contact with the German spy, Oscar Pfaus, who was chosen to contact the IRA early in 1939. And don’t overlook the fact that Roger Casement had earlier been in contact with the German Government soliciting their aid for the Irish rising in 1916.

Pfaus was the Hamburg chief of an organisation called “Fichte Bund”, whose motto was “Union for World Veracity”. According to McCormack “… they debated Jewish responsibility for the partition of Ireland with Pfaus insisting that ‘most of the British propaganda which is flooding Éire is coming from British-Jewish sources in Belfast’ and (Maud) Gonne in return (was) seeking evidence of ‘Jewish interference in this matter.”

In February 1934, Yeats was awarded the Goethe-Plakette because his plays and poetry with their mystical and folklore interests were clearly compatible with the ideology they were proclaiming. Yeats’ plays in particular had been translated into German and were popular with the Government and its supporters. But not all Germans were of the same opinion.

Thomas Mann, the German writer and winner of the 1929 Nobel Prize for Literature, wrote about a different future for Germany. His concerns were about “democracy considered as thought”. He wrote: “Democracy wishes to elevate mankind to teach it to think, to set it free. It seeks to set it free. It seeks to remove from culture the stamp of privilege and disseminate it among the people – in a word it aims at education”. I suggest that Mann’s views are as relevant today, perhaps even more relevant, in an Austerity Era where education and art and music and culture, need to be made available to all. Instead they are being withdrawn from the reach of those who need them most. These are not luxury items to be reserved for one group only. They are essential to enable all citizens to participate fully in the development of their own society. These so-called finer things of life are also the building blocks of a free society. They are part of the very soul of democracy.

My trawl through the back streets and quaint resources of the Internet this afternoon gave me the opportunity to browse through those nuggets of information, telling me about the role of Irish leaders in the early development of our State. But all those described above fade into the background, yet provide the base upon which I can display the treasure of my random rummaging of information. And in a happy “coincidental” manner it provides a tantalising background to the final item. In all honesty, this one frightens the life out of me.

In a pamphlet produced by Terramare Publications of Berlin in 1937, two years and two months before I was born and two years before World War II started, Rudolf Frerds’s “Population Papers” iwere published as a pamphlet under the title “Germany Speaks”. He wrote “… [this paper] addresses the problem of the falling birth rate among ‘families hereditarily endowed with the highest qualities’ and the rising rate among ‘families with a large number of social inadaptable elements’.”  Nazi laws had been introduced in July 1933, the year in which my paternal grandfather, Rudolf Pratschke, gave my father, František Mořic Anton Pratschke (known in Cobh as “Tony”) a copy of Hitler’s “Mein Kampf”.  He told him to read it and protect himself.

My Dad had Austro-Hungarian citizenship up until 1933 and if, as was the fear when the war started, that with the help and support of the IRA and the Irish people, Hitler might invade Ireland from the Atlantic side and create a pincer movement on England, then my father could have been drafted into the German Army. Can you imagine a man who spoke Irish, a member of Connradh na Gaeilge where he met my mother, who was an athlete with Ballymore Athletic club, who played hurling with Carrigtwohill and coached young hurlers in the Cobh Hurling Club, suddenly sucked into the vortex of war and death and destruction. The fears and anxieties that I experienced as a child in my pre-verbal years left an indelible mark on my psyche that only now I am beginning to evaluate and try to understand?!

In 1938, Joachim von Ribbentrop was appointed Hitler’s Foreign Minister. In the National Library of Ireland in Dublin there is preserved a copy of that book which came from Yeats’ personal book collection. Von Ribbentrop liked Yeats’ plays and felt that they resonated well with Nazi Germany’s efforts to integrate their mythological Teutonic past, just as Yeats integrated our mythical Celtic heroes into his vision of Ireland. There is another article in that book, “Germany Speaks”. It is titled “The Prevention of Hereditary Diseased Offspring” and it includes reference to the provision (28 June 1935) abolishing “the maxim according to which no offence can be punished unless it is specifically in the existing code of law”. In other words, if it’s not listed as an offence then there is no offence.

My thoughts now, as I review my afternoon’s exposure to this flow of “coincidental” (sic!) incidents from Ireland’s history are focusing on the central question. What Pandora’s Box have we now opened as a result of the recent Referendum on the Eighth Amendment? I would ask you to consider that question and try to imagine what might happen over the next several years if we fail, again, to identify the legal framework required to enhance the lives of Irish people as civilised human beings who are concerned with ultimate questions for which we struggle to reach a consensus decision. How sure are we that we will always be able to elect a Dáil with the competence, the intelligence, and the courage to appoint a Taoiseach and Ministers who can and will lead our people and protect them from the evils that flow from failure to understand the issues facing us, and an unwillingness to face and discuss our shared perceptions of reality?

And to finish, I am glad to say that I identified the quotation source. Yeats had repeated a remark made by the German poet, Goethe who had written: “The Irish seem to me to be like a pack of hounds, always dragging down some noble stag”. Think about it. Please.

Footnotes:

I was unable to find a direct reference to this article by Frerd, but I stumbled on this item which is of related interest. It is an onine (available free) copy of Deirdre Toomey’s “Yeats and Women: Yeats Annual No. 9” which contains a lot of information relating to Yeats and eugenics.

ii The web site linked to the “German Voices” will have brought you to a German language site. It is not necessary to understand German because I just wished to draw your attention to the fact that W.B. Yeats is the only one on that list of winners in the era concerned who does not have a German name. He appears to have been the only foreign winner over that period.

Taking the “dum(b)” out of Referendum

The democratic process in Ireland has shown a new face, a new vigour, a renewed belief in the power of One-ness. We should now, in gratitude, turn to face the rising Sun of change.

In the lead-up to the Referendum, I had struggled with how I might vote. Neither “Yes” nor “No” in itself would or could solve the problems we face. The public debate and commentary was too rigid but I sensed an energy and a movement that was hard to pin down. The same old self-satisfied and smug posturings seemed to dominate the media. For the first time in my life, I deliberately abstained from voting, because even though my sympathies were with the “Yes” campaign I found the public arguments too simplistic and I feared that some of the allegedly “feminist” rhetoric was too phobic towards men. I do not believe in the mythology of virgin birth so how could I support a cause that was apparently excluding men from the solution as well as implicitly vilifying them as being part of the cause?

I am Irish, I live in Ireland and we have just voted in a referendum that has shattered the old political structures and brought world-wide attention to the Emerald Isle. Nostalgia for an old romantic view of Ireland has been dispersed by a wind of change and a new confident electorate is emerging from the chrysalis of romantic Celtic dreams. I needn’t have worried, This convincing win for the “Yes” vote was not carried by the old politics no matter how hard they may try to convince themselves. This battle for a new Ireland was not planned nor fought in the old “smoke-filled” environment of political parties. It was fought hand-to-hand, doorstep-to-doorstep, street-by-street with courage and conviction by people who must be trusted.

The impetus came from a groundswell of grass-roots activism, dominated by younger people and by some new women and men who were not shackled by the old political system or personal religious convictions, but who brought a vigorous and vibrant force to bear. “A terrible beauty is born” (W.B.Yeats). It has brought activism to the fore and relegated old fashioned revisionist politics to “crying the catch cries of the clown”. It has gone further than the now-hackneyed phrase of “new politics” dared to go.

The democratic process in Ireland has shown a new face, a new vigour, a renewed belief in the power of One-ness. We should now, in gratitude, turn to face the rising Sun of change.

Put a sock in it, Taoiseach!

“This is the third year in a row that we’ve had more resources, a bigger budget, more staff, more beds, more home care, and despite all that we haven’t seen an improvement”

nine-of-wandsAccording to this morning’s Irish Times, Taoiseach Leo Varadkar has “expressed his frustration that higher public health spending is not improving services” because the number of people on hospital trolleys remains stubbornly high. He went on to express his regret to those members of the public who are affected. The Taoiseach also added: “This is the third year in a row that we’ve had more resources, a bigger budget, more staff, more beds, more home care, and despite all that we haven’t seen an improvement”. I hope we still have enough citizens in this country who have the testicular strength to shout “Bollix to that”! Anyone with a titter of wit could tell you that pouring money into a failed system is more than careless. And continuing to pour money in when you know that it will not bring better results is sheer insanity.

In fairness to him, I presume that Leo meant to reassure us all. The Taoiseach is lucky though that he has only to put up with frustration. I wonder has he stopped admiring his socks and taken stock of what is happening under the stewardship of his Government? We are being traumatised by the incompetence of those whom we have elected. We are being bewildered by the verbal gymnastics of Ministers, T.Ds. and oh-so-many other experts, advisors, and hangers-on who are running out of words to dodge their responsibilities while the world as we knew it is crumbling around us.  Is dying on a trolley in a hospital corridor deemed an improvement on dying alone and cold on the streets of the City? Starting at the top of the incompetent organisation the old-fashioned tried and trusted rule of your beloved capitalist neo-liberal system is “piss, or get off the pot”.

I am sorry, Taoiseach, that you are frustrated. Nevertheless, you and your retinue of sycophants should be down on your bloody knees in sack cloth and ashes begging forgiveness for what you have done, continue to do, and even worse, you plough on condoning the behaviour of banks and other financial institutions, courting favour with foreign fascists in the name of diplomacy, endorsing failure and blaming everyone but the culprits.

Why is this happening? Simplesh, says the meerkat! First of all, there is the Peter Principle and that allied with Parkinson’s Law is the HSE in a nutshell. The Peter Principle arises from the simple observation that when people are promoted in an organisation they are usually selected on the basis of their current skills and performance in their current role, rather than on the abilities relevant to the intended role. And this is repeated ad nauseum until eventually they reach a point where they are not able to do their job. Stated simply, the Peter Principle asserts that every member in an organisation is eventually promoted to the level of their incompetence. In the case of the HSE, this mistake was compounded by transferring redundant personnel from the old Health Boards and finding space, rather than jobs, for them in the new super-duper HSE.

Then there is Parkinson’s Law which states that “work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion”. When one has an organisation staffed by “ropey” managers, supervisors, and administrators, who do not know how to manage the work of others who report to them, and when many of the those employed lack motivation, you have all the ingredients for an Irish Stew of Gargantuan proportions!

I suggest that Leo Varadkar’s final statement merely adds insult to injury. Indicating that individual hospitals will be called to account for their performance, he said the Government will have to learn “why some places have very few patients on trolleys – in the case of Cavan, zero – and why others have many more”. Isn’t that a brilliant idea! How come no Government has come up with that idea before now? Makes me wonder what Health Ministers and Department of Health officials have been doing all those years. Perhaps they were just playing the “Pass the Potty” game!

Why are our political and administrative systems failing us?

They are the blasphemous priesthood of a religion in which they themselves no longer believe.

dreamstime_s_29860986I hear many people saying that the “system” is crumbling. There is abundant evidence available to support that claim. I have read critical comments and heard angry exchanges on TV as well as seeing vituperative accusations and strongly worded exchanges in the public media. Increasing numbers of families, individuals and children are becoming homeless, living rough, barely surviving, their nerves in shreds, with wounds they will carry into the future and suffer the consequences. We have empty houses and homeless people. We see rising levels of violence and whilst the Garda Síochana do their best, they have been deprived of resources and training despite all the great promises made in the Government Report on the Training Needs of the Garda Síochána way back in 1980. The list is endless. “Cram-ucation” has replaced “Education” because while we and our predecessors have slept, trusting in the honesty of our own State and our own Government for our protection, those selfsame leaders have themselves been found wanting.

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End of the line!

I emphasise that this was not necessarily done deliberately and with malice a forethought. But in the desperation of their own ignorance they want no one else to challenge them. They themselves have lost trust and belief in the system because they live in a so-called “reality” that is, in effect, their own collective Dream World. They are the blasphemous priesthood of a religion in which they themselves no longer believe. The past is a manipulated history to prevent themselves as well as us from remembering. The future is unknown and unknowable but is continually reported on as fantasies of what they will do. We can neither act nor change an iota in the past. The future is an unknown country until it becomes “today”. The unavoidable truth is that we can only act, do, and achieve anything today, in the here-and-now. What we do in the Now is what will determine our future results. We could have built houses in the past for those families who are homeless today. But we didn’t. “Live, horse, and you will get grass” is the only advice I hear offered. “Sleep on the streets, rear your children n a hotel bedroom, and you will get a house in the future”. Bloody brilliant! There are empty houses around the country now, why can’t they be made available. Now!

dreamstimefree_6741071I could weep every time that fresh young politicians with stars in their eyes speak of “plans”, “better plans”, and “more plans”. I have no reason to believe that they are not sincere in what they say. Their senior colleagues had briefed them and given them those jobs. They will soon learn that all this “planning” is merely theatrical flim-flam. The offices of Government have filing cabinets filled with plans, most of which will never again see the light of day. These fresh young political minds will soon find that the world has moved on and their plans are a waste of time. But they themselves, through the old-fashioned training device of “sitting with Nellie” will have learned that the only survival route for themselves will be to allow their seniors to groom them further. Meanwhile all they can do is pray that the world around them will go into slow motion and allow their fantasies of effective government to come magically to fruition. They do not seem to understand that their seniors and their leaders, in concert with most governments around the world are intent upon creating countries inhabited by zombie citizens, dumbed down and compliant, that will follow them unquestioningly. That is the main difference between consumer societies and societies inhabited by human beings.

Yet while those running the country are becoming increasingly remote and protected from the awful reality they are creating, we, the people, suffer. And as long as we accept the Dream World created by those with their hands on the levers of power in the State, and as long as we accept that Dream World as our Reality, we will be powerless. We are not, however, powerless. Merely caught up in a Dream World which is becoming our recurring nightmare.

dreamstime_s_9425462We, the people, have a job to do. And only we can do it. Ignore the failed old rhetoric of revolution and the proletariat taking control of their own fate. Revolutions are usually followed by revolutions against the revolutionaries. And when power corrupts the human mind, the preservation of the system becomes the message and the circus rolls on. The world has changed. We need to find new solutions to new problems. We must work together,  and for each other, rebuild our communities from our own resources, remaining outside the system as far as we can. A grassroots movement must be built to show the people that we do have power over our own lives and over our own environments and we can exercise that power collectively if we want to and if we dare to. A pleading voice from the past echoes “The great seem great because we are on our knees. Let us arise!” Arise, yes, but not to sacrifice lives merely for us to change the people occupying the seats of power.

butterfliesSystems rarely if ever can be changed from within but, as the butterfly emerges from the chrysalis of the caterpillar, a new system can be built from the ground up if we refuse to co-operate with the puppet masters and begin to build our own real-life society. But this, as in the story of the caterpillar’s transition to a beautiful butterfly, requires a lot of preparation by communities and society in general if it is to take root. There are examples of that groundswell of movement in different communities around the globe. There are fresh green shoots appearing in Ireland where the GIY movement is not only showing communities as well as individuals how they can provide a healthier diet for themselves, but are already gaining substantial following for their initiatives in other countries. New forms of education are becoming available which put the child’s need ahead of the needs of would-be employers and which aim to develop confident adults with rounded education and ready to play their role in society. Living “off-grid” is another option for those who think that life basics have become too expensive. Those are just some examples of what can be done, and of what is being done now.

Rodin - The Thinker
Rodin – The Thinker

Shouting in anger at people who are not listening achieves nothing and is usually injurious to your health. Following the Duke of York up the hill of yet another demonstration lessens morale. We need to talk more to one another about the things that matter to us. The old Irish saying “Is ar scáth a chéile a mhaireas na daoine” is often translated literally as “We live in the shadow of one another”, as a reminder that man is a social being. But there is a much deeper message in that old saying, because the Irish word “scáth” as well as meaning “shadow”, also has nuances of looking after someone, putting them under your wing. It also implies the reflection of ourselves that we may see when we look into the eyes of the other person and engage with them; it also has the meaning of “fear”. I believe that if we could see a fellow human person without the filters that have been developed in our evolutionary journey, we would find ourselves in the conjoined presence of the Cosmic Spirit of Creation, our shared human Spirit. And the responsibility for living and working with that, and realising that we ourselves could be seen like that, would be a terrifying responsibility. It would also awaken us to the potential of our human Destiny.

TeilhardP_1947
Teilhard de Chardin

At present we live in the Biosphere of Planet Earth. Teilhard de Chardin, the Jesuit palaeontologist, postulated that the next major leap in evolution of life on this planet would involve the development of the Noosphere, effectively another layer or “skin” around the planet, but this time based not upon plant and animal life, as in the Biosphere, but upon the interaction of human minds and intelligence. Now evolutionary change takes long periods of time and is most unlikely to happen within the lifetime of any one individual person! That means that the Noosphere is not going to suddenly appear some day in the near future! But nevertheless, having arrived at this stage in the evolution of the human species and of all the other aspects of life on Planet Earth, we could begin to work towards taking a more active role in the future development of the planet. And even though our contribution might be miniscule in terms of the total process involved in evolutionary change, it might be better than letting all the previous billions of years that preceded our arrival on the scene go up in a fried planet, don’t you think? It might also lead to a friendlier and more peaceable world for our children and our children’s children to the seventh generation!

What’s stopping us? We have a lot to discuss and a lot to do. Let’s do that together then. I would also recommend decisions by consensus for such issues as this because majority voting and even qualified-majority voting tend to create divisions. Consensus build team and group solidarity and understanding as well as making the environment more accepting of differences.

Who was Ophelia?

“We are often to blame in this,
“As evidence shows, that with a religious face
“And an assumed holiness,
“We make the face of evil acceptable”

I have always been intrigued by the names give to hurricanes by the meteorology folk. The hurricane now sweeping across Ireland from South to North has been labeled “Ophelia”. I presume that this name refers to Hamlet’s girl-friend in Shakespeare’s play. If this hurricane is seen as feminine then she certainly is a mad, crazy woman who has no respect for those around her. Is that fair to the fair Ophelia? And is it fair to the hurricane?

Shakespeare’s play, “Hamlet”, was on the curriculum the year I did my Leaving Cert. back in the 1950s. Or was it for the Inter Cert? I can’t be sure but I really loved that play. I was also fortunate that my English teacher was a very good teacher. He challenged us to analyse the characters in the play and helped us to articulate our own understanding of the characters rather than learn off set answers by heart for the exams. I am grateful to him for that because it was a skill that has stood me in good stead during my working life, encouraging me to trust my own judgment of others while allowing room for ongoing re-assessment. Human beings, like characters in a Shakespeare play, do develop and change over their life-time.

Life for women in Shakespeare’s time would not be acceptable in today’s society. In the opening scenes of the play, Ophelia’s brother, Laertes, was, in effect, advising her to keep her knees together and told her Be wary then best safety lies in fearbecause he knew his pal Hamlet! Well, that is advice that we might well bear in mind today when Ophelia hits our town or parish! Her father, Polonius, got in on the act as well, cutting short her protestations that Hamlet had “importuned (her) with love in honourable fashion” by telling her she was speaking like a “green girl”! I thought she was a bit wimpish when she gave in to her father and said: “I shall obey my lord“. Later when Hamlet flips his lid and behaves mega-strangely, he appears to succeed in getting her to support him in his plan to “out” his uncle as the murderer of his father. But the audience has the advantage of knowing that Hamlet’s “madness” is an act wherein he planned “to catch the conscience of the King”. In a turning of the tables it is actually Ophelia who goes mad and kills herself by drowning in the river after Hamlet kills her father.

So in looking at this hurricane through the prism of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” and the tragic character of Ophelia, I am looking past the drama of the hurricane at the global stage of climate. This hurricane is making us in Ireland face a mere fraction of the horror of a planet in agony. My personal spiritual understanding of planet Earth is that it is a conscious entity, together with other “living” components such as rocks, plants, and animals, each with its own level of consciousness. We humans are a responsible part of that great unified Consciousness. The Qigong mantra, “I am in the Universe, the Universe is in me, the Universe and I are One” is particularly relevant. Hurricane “Ophelia” is a call from Mother Earth and if we have any sense we must listen. We do not own the planet. We cannot control Nature. We must learn to bend with the wind, otherwise we shall break like the reed in the wind. And we must also beware of those of our leaders who either are mad or who are pretending to be mad in order to manipulate us for their own advantage. In the words of Polonius, father of Ophelia:

“We are oft to blame in this, —
“Tis too much proved – that with devotion’s visage
“And pious action we do sugar o’er
“The devil himself.”

[In today’s language, that reads as follows:

“We are often to blame in this,
“As evidence shows, that with a religious face
“And an assumed holiness,
“We make the face of evil acceptable”]

The Second Law of Thermodynamics, Modernism, Post-modernism and Me

An Irish Government in Exile – just another English translation for the word Dáil, like Tír na nÓg

Scenario

A large disused garden shed, somewhere in the galaxy. Or maybe in another galaxy.

cosmic-taijitu

The Stage is empty. Entities are scurrying around in the dark. A single overhead spotlight, with green filter, creates a cone of light. An old man enters (stage left), looking slightly out of place and embarrassed. He stands near the cone, occasionally looking up at the spotlight.

Voice (stage right): “Stand directly under the light, please”.

Old Man: “Oh, I see. Thanks. By the way, will they understand that there is no difference between ‘The Tao’ and ‘The Path’?

Voice: “You don’t need to worry about that.”

Old Man: (smiles nervously)

Voice: “Oh, get on with it.”

Beginning

Cow in Val di Scalve, Alps mountains, Italy
Cow in Val di Scalve, Alps mountains, Italy

Imagine that you are assembling a jigsaw puzzle of 4,000 pieces1. You have a picture of what the final assembled jigsaw will look like. Now, why would anyone want to painstakingly and with great difficulty, by trial and error, assemble 4,000 random pieces of colourdy cardboard in order to create a picture that you can stick painstakingly, with glue, and with great difficulty to a large sheet of brown paper, then frame it and hang it over the fireplace in your sitting room, when you could have framed the original picture and just dumped the 4,000 pieces of colourdy cardboard?

Anyway, there you are with the 4,000 pieces finally assembled into a picture that is the same as the one on the box that originally contained the pieces of the jigsaw and you are now carrying that picture on a large sheet of stiff cardboard or plywood into another room to show to your friends what you have achieved , when you trip over the cat, or the dog if you don’t have a cat, and if you have neither just imagine that you tripped somehow and dropped the jigsaw on the floor. As a result, the jigsaw breaks apart into its separate pieces which now lie scattered all over the floor. Get it? OK. Good!

Cow in Val di Scalve, Alps mountains, Italy
Doppelganger Cow in Val di Scalve, Alps mountains, Italy, in  a parallel reality.

Now, imagine that in a parallel reality, someone who looks exactly like you is carrying a box with a lovely picture on the cover, and in the box there are 4,000 similar pieces of colourdy cardboard. Again, for some unknown reason, that someone like you trips over the cat, or as I explained above, trips over a dog, or just trips, dropping the box, which falls open on the floor and all the 4,000 pieces are now scattered over the floor. Get it? OK. Good.

Middle

But why on earth do those two different scenarios end up with the same result? Why, in the second case which is the reverse of the first, do the dropped pieces not assemble into a picture like that on the box when they hit the floor? Why? Because of the Second Law of Thermodynamics2, that’s why. The what? What in the name of all that is good and holy has the Second Law of Thermodynamics got to do with jigsaws? Well, it just does! That’s what every scientist since the Age of Enlightenment will tell you! Get it? O.K. Good!

Now the same scientists from the Enlightenment onwards have checked with one another and compared results and are unanimoniously agreed that the planet we now inhabit was first a cloud of cosmic dust that was set spinning in Space after the Big Bang, and gradually, because of the spinning motion over billions of years , the bits of dust kind of stuck together tightly until it formed a rock. Then drops of water that had become frozen together somewhere else in space after the Big Bang, froze together into one huge, really huge, snowball, or ice ball, flying through space and eventually, accidentally crashed slap, bang, into the stony lump that had been dust.

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Smaller lump of rock

Then, later, other bits of debris from the Big Bang, together with other lumps of rock that had been formed elsewhere in Space, crashed into that lump of rock, which now had big, really very big, in fact, ginormously big oceans of water as well as additional lumps of rock that had arrived in the meantime, and caused a relatively smaller but still a very, very big lump of rock to break off and start spinning around the bigger piece, which then became a humungously enormous big rock with oceans with a smaller lump of rock called a Moon spinning around it.

Over the next few billion years, funny things happened on that big lump of rock and water3 which now , due to the Laws of Gravity, was causing teeny, weeny bits of even tinier bits of dust to start sticking on to other teeny weeny , tiny bits of even tinier dust which, over another few billion years, formed atoms and then atoms stuck on to other atoms to form molecules, and then molecules got stuck onto other molecules, until eventually a blob of matter flopped out of the sea somewhere and landed on a dry rock.

220px-Homo_erectus_pekinensis_-_archeaeological
Gouger (Homo dubliniensis)

Incidentally, that dry rock can be seen from the Great Atlantic Way off the West Coast of Ireland and has been nominated by an Irish Government in Exile (just another English translation for the word Dáil, like Tír na nÓg) as another Unesco site worth preserving because we might get a few extra shekels from the E.U. to keep it clean after the gougers from Dublin on holiday in the West wrote inappropriate graffiti on it. Get it? O.K. Good!

And this little blob, over the next few millions years joined with other blobs and formed bigger blobs with blobs attached to them and then, one day, one of those multi-blobs saw its reflection in the water surrounding the rocks

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Selfie by blob

and realised that there were other blobs around it that looked just like itself. The He-She-It blob called all the other blobs to view their reflections in the water. Then one blob looked up at the sky and called out in ecstasy: “That’s not Space, that’s the expletive deleted Cosmos”. Whereupon all the other blobs fell to their knees even though it would have been easier for blobs to sit in the Full Lotus Position. Unfortunately, lotususses had not yet become part of the landscape.

And that is how Evolution started.

End

But what puzzles me, after all those billions of years, why didn’t the atoms and molecules and blobs just fall apart like the pieces of the completed jigsaw that you dropped in the second paragraph? Get it? Good. Rrrright! We’re nearly there now. So, what was the difference? You tell me! Because if those blobs and multi-blobs had behaved according to the Second Law of Thermodynamics, then we would never have produced Donald Trump, Theresa May, Ching Duk Qwan (or whatever his name is), or Isis,  or Will-Will, or religion, or atheism or whatever and whoever they are, and our World wouldn’t be in the mess it now is. And what’s more, we would never have arrived at the situation we are now in.

That is why a very wise, really stunningly wise, poly-blob called Lao Tsu4, once wrote:

When the Tao is lost, there is goodness.

When Goodness is lost, there is morality.

When Morality is lost, there is ritual.

Ritual is the husk of True Faith,

The Beginning of Chaos”

Long silence.

Old Man: “Can I go now?”

Voice: “Sure! I’ll turn the voice-over off later”

Some Notes

1 At an earlier stage in life, when I worked as an Organisation Development consultant, I was asked to run a course in Management Skills for a project management team. One of the exercises I designed involved a 4,000 piece jigsaw. I emptied the box of pieces onto the table and told the participants that they had one hour to assemble the picture. They dived into the task immediately, asked no questions, and no one challenged my wisdom. It was clear to me that the participants had been on other management training programmes run by reputable self-sustaining drip-fed institutes that I refer to now as WOT Seminars, where WOT stands for “Ways of Talking”. Content never changes but the way of expressing the eternal truths of management do change to maintain the drip-feed.

An hour later we sat in a circle to discuss the task. After dutifully trotting out the standard answers, they were somewhat taken aback when I asked them to include my role in their discussion of the task. Then the penny dropped and we had quite an interesting discussion about the perceived role versus the actual behaviour of management! This sage advice has nothing to do with the main story here. Or maybe it does.

2The Second Law of Thermodynamics is about the quality of energy. It states that as energy is transferred or transformed, more and more of it is wasted. The Second Law also states that there is a natural tendency of any isolated system to degenerate into a more disordered state. Ergo, our post-modern society now. But this also relates to the intolerance of scientists towards environmental activists, New Age unwashed, anybody who uses the word “Namasté” or practises Yoga, Qigong, Shamanism, or Druidry, because they are always complaining and demanding the we conserve energy.

3I know you can’t have lumps of water – lumps of snow and ice, yes, but not water. But for all purposes, a huge mass of smashed rocks and mind-boggling masses of water, can collectively be referred to as a lump when spinning in Space.

4Caveat! Some people say that Lao Tsu never existed and that it was a few other psycho-blobs who were bored one night and decided to write a very clever book on “How to rule without actually getting blamed by the mob of blobs”.

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