CRYING OUT INTO A VOID
until there is nothing more to say.....
I haven’t written here for 8 days and I think I owe an explanation. I am not sick, not depressed nor especially bothered about anything. I am just BORED SHITLESS of the endless cycle of fear porn, so-called facts and so-called fiction that I have been seeing in my email inbox.
I have long since stopped watching or listening to main stream media and only get the bare minimum of a clue what is going on in the world from headlines on Brave’s newsfeed which I scroll by with lacklustre interest or groans of despair.
I do not need a screen telling me what to be afraid of 24/7. I certainly do not need to be involved in endless debate about the rights and wrongs of a fundamentally fucked up society which insists upon fucking itself up even more every day.
So I mentioned, a couple of weeks ago, that I have lost my FOMO. I was completely serious - I really have lost my fear of missing out completely. I mean, what am I actually missing out on? Fake news, dramas, divas and rich twats who believe that they have the right to tell us what the future should look like. Maybe a new pandemic or another lockdown. I ignored the last ones, so nothing is changing is it?
Why do I need to know what laws are being changed? Will my reaction (positive or negative) make any difference? Who cares if the latest fad in tell-lie-vision is court case soap operas? I certainly don’t and won’t be sucked into the fake dramas!
So my brand new laptop with the gorgeous backlit keyboard has arrived under the fingertips of a completely jaded geo-political and health writer who would rather binge-watch daft trash on Netflix than painstakingly research and compose (yet another) article which will never be published anywhere without being ghosted or banned from social media. I realise that, by de-platforming and cancelling us, the owners have not only gagged us but also robbed us of the ability to fight back - crying out into a void soon chokes the voice until there is nothing more to say.
I remember many periods in my life when I was either too geographically remote or too busy to observe what was going on in the world and, looking back, I realise that those were the times when I was most happy.
Like when I was a child, immersed in school, friends and sport.
Or when I was a teenager, determined to worm my way into music venues even though I had no money.
Or when I fell in love, got married, gave birth and became a stay-at-home mum with pets and a dressmaking business filling all my days.
Throughout all those periods I did not read newspapers or watch tell-lie-vision very much. I was only ever vaguely aware of external influences and took part in geo-political discussions with only one person who frequently remarked that I wore rose-coloured glasses. A gentle way of saying that I was naïve. He was right.
My naivete began to crumble when I discovered Carl Jung and his interest in the collective unconsciousness understood by Taoism. He introduced me to the I Ching and from there into Traditional Chinese Medicine.
These two videos are beautiful, peaceful and informative. The first explains how Carl Jung favoured Taoism and the second explains the mystery of divination with the 64 hexagrams of the I Ching.
I would like to terminate this article by saying that I won’t disappear from writing on Substack but I cannot say that, in all honesty. I am at a contemplative phase of my life. One in which silence has become precious.
Bear with me, please.