Sunday Service

I am unexpectedly at home a lot at the moment, thinking; there is something therapeutic about this, frustrating though it sometimes feels. I can feel my brain stretching, measuring, comparing, mulling...

Early this morning in a bout of insomnia, I thought about my (our) parents. This was simulated by my friend Laura from over the Atlantic Ocean sending photographs she'd found while tidying up her Dad's belongings after he passed away a few weeks ago. There were some I'd never seen and I started thinking about her parents and my own, who had very similar levels of contentment.

Being at home with the news being piped relentlessly into the house through a stream of channels- it literally feels that it's leaking bad news through every crack in a floorboard and badly-fitting door- makes you aware of just how angry people are.

A lot of this is justified, but it's stirred up by people who are playing the angry people's feelings as a sport. They have the money to fund campaigns that disrupt society because when society is disrupted, very rich people get richer. All that anger energy is basically being farmed, isn't it? Look at who is making money during the pandemic, and who is suffering.

I watch people I know become furious and blame anything they can lay their hands and eyes on- refugees, men, women, teenagers, people from Black and Asian communities, Germans and Austrians (something to so with a war in the LAST CENTURY, sorry for angry capitals), people poorer than them (benefits, you know), Jewish people, people from the gay and lesbian and + communities, disabled people (there is a horrible eugenics thread going alongside the 'learning to live with Covid' narrative that has led to me feeling ashamed of some of the people that I know), intellectuals, people who grow high hedges outside their houses (I know!), people whom they think have had better luck in their lives, wealthy Southerners. You name it, there's blame to be had, and anger to be laid at a doorstep.

Through all this, I have come to realise that my far-from-perfect parents were contented. They didn't complain about each other. They had enough time to help other people (a lot). They were really involved in politics in a very principled way, and acted accordingly rather than telling people what they should be doing all the time. They didn't need to shout from the rooftops, and they taught us by example to accept people who were different to us, and to try to understand them.

At the moment, this is quite a wearying approach. I have always needed a lot of peace, quiet and solitude to process living in a world with so many opinions and feelings cascading down upon my head. I suppose I have music as an outlet: I can be quite forthright and keep to certain principles. More on that another time. I need a cup of tea.