Bullshite and Empathy

A cautious, ‘Hi’, here.

My response to Mark, at https://healingyourheartfromwithin.com.au/2019/08/28/empathy/

was becoming rather lengthy so I figured, make a post of it.

I reckon there are others who feel as I do.

Forgive me, Mark, please, for using a comment as a post. Haven’t quite mastered the art of brevity.

Hi Mark, the prodigal Scot is dipping her toes back in WP waters and you’re the first one I came across in my comments. I don’t even know if I’ll read anything else.

No, I’ll visit Beth at Colemining. You and she are two of strong connection. And that might be it.

Some of the lovely people I had met on here don’t figure in my thoughts when I’m away. That’s just life. Fleeting moments of remembrance and brief connection and we move on.

I hardly know why I’ve been away so long but your post has struck a chord.

Empathy.

It’s a bugger for me. Not only me. I was speaking to one of my sons recently and he was feeling emotionally and mentally drained to the point of …not depression…but similar… a hopelessness. He works with troubled young people while also studying at uni. He feels. He feels the world. It’s painful. I tried to explain what you are saying, in your post, but I don’t think I got it myself.

One of my daughters is the same. Mostly, the others of my crew practise a lot of sublimation. Or, maybe they just deal with the part of the world they have any control over and they’re better at separating the two than some of us are. Force them, and they’ll talk. They’ll give their opinions. They’ll tell you their beliefs. But, mostly, they get on with life. And I try to do the same.

But a few of us here struggle with the realities of what is happening all over and fluctuate between action and inaction, depending on how much energy we have left after dealing with life.

Empathy. The drain.

I’m struggling with the world. My own corner of it. What a mess is going on here. That’s kind of why I’ve been absent from WP. I decided to do something instead of writing and talking about it. But I’m not sure that what I’m doing is making any difference. Any more than words would.

Communication, for me, has always been key to dealing with people. Although, frankly, I don’t really relish being with people. It’s like I love humanity but I’m not so fond of it on an individual basis.

Someone once described an introvert as a person who can party hard with everyone else but needs a long time to recover. I rather liked that description. It fits who I am. I’m compelled to deal with people – kids, mostly – all day and, at the end of it, I just want to sit quietly in a corner. But I can’t, for the most part, because life demands and commands.

I began to take a more active role in politics last year, in the belief that actions speak louder than words. I still think that’s the case but those who have the time for action tend not to be holding down a full-time job and managing a household. Something always suffers. My writing has. It has become the last thing I do after everything else.

But it’s been bugging me. The same son I was speaking of earlier told me once, ‘Mum, writing’s a constant for you in your life. You always return to it.’

He gets me. The lass who feels the same also writes – in between living.

And that’s the shitty bit.

Something that constantly returns, but has to be put on hold, suffers neglect because arseholes are making a mess of doing the job they’re supposed to be doing.

I’d have been sacked for less.

And quite rightly.

They have all day, every day, to manipulate the world and I – we – are ants in the middle of it. Working till we drop.

I can’t stop seeing a bigger picture. It’s hazy. But not as hazy as I’d like it to be. All too clear, in lots of ways. And I’m bleeding energy for the state of the world.

What do I do about that, Mark?

How do I make empathy work for me? For the world? Because, right now, all it’s doing is draining me of the hope that has been as constant as the writing.

Thank god, right now, we have the September Weekend – a four-day break from work that’s a Scottish holiday. How I need it!

 

I had no intention of posting anything on WP. Hasn’t even figured in my mind at all in months. But, your post, Mark, speaks to me. I just don’t get it.

I don’t know how to separate what I think and feel from my energy source. When I think, I feel. When I feel, I’m exhausted.

I need a course on how not to let thinking and feeling drain me.

I need to retire, quite frankly!

But, I’m not going to do that until I see a world fit for my kids. This momma didn’t raise no cannon fodder!

Just tell me how to stop feeling everything and letting it bleed me dry.

If not, tell me a joke so’s I can laugh and move on.

And, I’m only half kidding.

I need a laugh to deal with the bull.

Thank god, I have a few comedians here who keep me smiling despite angst. Great leveller is humour. And so much truth in it too.

(There’s a slight glitch in the video but it only lasts seconds and it’s well worth hearing till the end)

Seeds Assigned

A seed, some soil, the skill

The will and willing

A hook, a line, some bait

And world revolves

The rising and the effort

These things telling 

Of evolved and elements

With basics solved

 

A pestilence, a shark 

The challenge waiting 

Some ingenuity, against the odds,

And life goes on

Then cultivators, trailing nets

The size of mammon,

Defeat survival

This phenomenon

 

A scourge upon all husbandry

And basics

Though sources rich

The system undermines

So what is grown, is caught

Is earned for living

Becomes not yours or ours

But is assigned

 

Till effort, willing, rising

Is diminished

Impotent deviations

Futile highs

An abstract of all life

The givers, taken,

Conceptual norms

Becoming life despised

 

A mere idea defeating

What is normal

A notion of all functions

In control

Of beneficiaries

In a shameful structure

Begs the question

What, exactly, is our role?

Head For Home

It must be evident, to anyone tuned into Westminster politics, that the representatives, elected by the Scottish people, are out of place in that house. It is a house of representation for English politicians. Numbers and attitude confirm that this is no union of equal nations. So be it. @SNP, come on home. Build bridges here.

You’ve done all you can

With ideas, open hands

Eyes and ears ever mindful

To their plans

They’ve made grave mistakes

Now we need a break

They’re ‘on the make’

We must be done

 

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

 

You’ve ‘seen all the frowns

On the faces of the clowns’

Ignore the vows that they made

Unguaranteed

And you’ve heard all the noise

From Westminster’s prams and toys

‘But they don’t mean a’ thing

If we’re not free

 

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

 

You’ve been to that place in that town

Where their words let us down

While they ‘stare at each other’

You’ve lampooned them

‘Screamed at the moon’

They behaved like buffoons

And you’ve discovered

 

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

 

You’ve travelled the land

Their trajectory, crash land

Seen their faces in that place

Misunderstand

Yes, you’ve witnessed their world

Seen their tactics unfurled

And their ‘noise

That destroys and commands’

 

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

Head for home

‘Run as fast as you can

Oh-oh-oh run’, repeat, come right on home

 

Where Extremes Meet

Imbalanced, unsteady

World out of whack

Cosmos chaotic

Can we find our way back?

 

Heavens to hell

We’re caught in between

Is anyone listening?

Do you know what I mean?

 

Richest to poorest

Filet mignon to mince

Palace to pavement

Paupers, crown prince

 

Eden to Gaza

Stripped of what’s best

Points of the compass

Confused east to west

 

Morbid obesity

Starved unto death

Billionaires, beggars

Comfort, bereft

 

Extremes in nature

Whole world in flux

Empathic encounters

While some give no fucks

 

Leisurely, lazy

Or worked to the bone

Temperate to pissed

Hyped-up to stoned

 

Scales have all shifted

They’re whirling like mad

Weighed down or lifted

Sky-high or launch-pad

 

Graven pretenders

Vying with Christ

Compassion, contemptible

Virtue and vice

 

A planet imploding

With greed, avarice

Don’t know about you

But I never voted for this

 

Button to reset

That might be the plan

Pit one against other

Warring woman to man

 

Polarised humanity

Silenced, shrill scream

Trying to stay upright

On an unsteady beam

 

Pendulum’s swinging

And the clock’s ticking down

Minutes to midnight

Of tragedy and clowns

 

Terrified faces

Rictus, raw smiles

Fiddles on scary

No deliverance for miles

 

We’re caught on a swing

With a g-force of ten

Tensioned to torment

Released, repeated again

 

Scrambling brains

By the power of extreme

While I’m seeking balance

Please say you know what I mean

 

Virtuality

Related image

(source)

While you were preoccupied, I stole into your home

You never noticed what I took even when I’d been and gone

I confiscated basic things, the ones that you’d ignored

And you were just so busy, I was not overheard

While sat before the TV, you did not see me there

And, if you had, would you have done a thing to show you cared

I don’t believe that you deserve to own the things withdrawn

For you were quite oblivious to what was going on

Distracted as you were by ice, by factors x and y

You have no right to now complain, to wring your hands and cry

So what, if now, you note they’re gone and want and need them there

I took them for my own ends and, quite frankly, I don’t care

I hold those things you thought were yours; your freedoms and your rights

Uninsured, no guarantee when unguarded out of sight

If you had raised your eyes, but once, beyond an oblong screen

How different might your future be, you might have looked and seen

That I am here, I’m always here, to steal the things you need

My raison d’etre: money, power; to satisfy my greed

Another chance? A do-over? A more attentive you?

Too late, too bad, you did not fight. You know my words are true.

Now here I stand instead of you, your rights crushed in my hand

Corruption rules, you did not move to fight nor make a stand

Escapades on gogglebox became reality

Back to your box

Or resist remote

Tune-out controlled TV

Run Aground

Tales rotated, deceits abound

Their fabrications bounce, rebound

Slander, libel, our name defiled

Grudges nurtured, to rule, divide

Shit dissembled, a masquerade

Phoney fuckers throwing shade

Of feigning union, but monopoly

Power retained, their sovereignty

Documentation disproving lies

Prove fact and fiction falsified

Mendacious masking ricochets

Reverberations in these days

Working, waiting, building trust

To re-establish what is just

Claim of Right intensified

Independence, morally justified

Tales rotated, deceits rebound

The Act of Union run aground

Finaglers’ Devices

 

Bigger plans afoot than senseless, stupid

Perception seeks and sees manoeuvred sin

The meanwhiles gather, rapid with intention

In situ, gaseous masking, febrile spin

 

Disbelieve the engineers, finagling

Devices, masterminded, coast to coast

Fools in place, distracting jesters, hoaxing

While masterminding prize that’s valued most

 

Counted heads and costed revolutions

Epic portraiture in snapshot ink

Of war in peace, acceptance in the psyche

Governance, by gaslight, doublethink

 

Rest Ye And Be Thankful

Rest ye and be thankful when the mountains give respite

When the road that is less travelled reveals the truth of right

Though the years eroded potency and restraints reined your might

Rest ye and be thankful for the end is soon in sight

 

Rest ye and be thankful that you sought to climb the peak

That you spoke when speaking mattered for you had the right to speak

That you told and taught the stories that someone had to teach

Rest ye and be thankful for the goal is now in reach

 

Rest ye and be thankful as the future cries your name

For the stalwarts, armed with stamina, once rested, feel no pain

From mountain tops to steep ravines, words echo through the glens

Rest ye and be thankful then stir and rise again

And There We’ll Be

                                              one day

from arid lips

parched

forlorn

the unicorn shall come

caress

dry, tired lips

refresh

from mountain falls

the parchment of all love

and there we’ll be

that day

when once it dawns

as ev’ry new beginning

must

by new birthrights, form

the haze will clear

and there

upon a clear horizon

visions of a future

that must be

will will be reborn

the will to be

to change

fulfil the legacy

the birthright

fought and died for

there we’ll be

(source)

the future chosen

written from

the past

the legacy of every family

clearanced

cleared

from home

the choices chosen

by all others

there the day

we choose the will

the way

the unicorn now free

from choices of the past

and choices chosen from

and by

the distant rogues

now overcome

refuse

from now

we are

the unicorn

with lips refreshed

the fallen

now revisited

one day

the unicorn

will think again

refreshed from sources

replenishing the soul

of nationhood

and truth

and there we’ll be

We’ll be

We are the unicorn

Refreshed

Reborn

Behold the unicorn

Risen from the depths of soul

The waters of life

Now revisited

We are the soul of kelpies

Now reborn

We are the unicorn!

Behold!

We are free!

And there we’ll be!

War of Self-Imposed

A war of self-infliction, crime exposed

Reasons for the hardships juxtaposed

Penalties impending, border freedoms to be closed

Oh, welcome to the war of self-imposed

 

While they cry for sovereign power but fight to it depose

While citizens ignore or guess, suppose

The unity of peace begins to decompose

Losing to a war of self-imposed

 

Democracy, dictatorship, in UK, now transposed

Archaic powers risen though necrosed

Poison resurrected in the system, rank disclosed

Who wins a war of losses self-imposed?

 

Privileged in power, legitimacy foreclosed

Hearts and minds, though changed, to be opposed

No one represented but for interests undisclosed

In a war manipulated and imposed