Everything, everywhere, all at once.
May 2024
And no this isn’t an extremely late-to-the-party film review, it’s how this month has felt on every level; personal, political, and global.
There is so much happening, across the world and here in the UK, much of which is so very awful, that everything feels surreal. Even the beauty of the aurora borealis flickering and flaring across the UK night skies at the start of the month could be read as an harbinger of the ongoing climate emergency.
Continuing to go about daily life seems entirely wrong with all this happening, yet there is no choice; the world keeps turning, the clock keeps ticking, food still needs to be put on the table, clothes still need to be laundered, and the needs of loved ones still have to be met. I know I’m not the only one looking around and feeling helpless and furious in equal measure at all the suffering happening across the world that I have no significant means of alleviating.
I find a mix of guilt and gratitude welling up inside me during the most mundane of tasks. Putting the kettle on reminds me that I am safe inside a warm house able to make food and look after my family, not worrying about whether we are going to die of dehydration or starvation or if it will be the next bombing raid that kills us. If I open Twitter for a distraction I am forcibly reminded how lucky I am that I’m able to exist in public spaces and post about my life on social media without the fear that I’m going to being publicly targeted and harassed for the “crime” of living my life as who I really am. In America reproductive and lgbtq+ rights continue to be eroded in many states, across the globe the far-right continue to push for power, there are climate disasters occurring everywhere. There’s just too much happening to list it all and, over and over and over again, it is the marginalised who are bearing the brunt of the horrors.
It’s overwhelming even for someone insulated from the direct effects of much of this, all thanks to the accident of being born when and where I was. What little I can do - sending a few pounds where I can, signing petitions, sending emails, giving clothes and other items to donation drives - feels like too little, too late.
On top of this the UK is now being treated to a political clown show, one that has pushed everything else off the front pages, thanks to the snap general election Rishi Sunak called last week. As of today we’re just entering week two of a six week campaign but it feels like it’s been a year already and frankly I’ve had enough of the car crash tv interviews and amateurish media ops the Conservatives keep churning out. With any luck they’ll be booted out so hard on 4th July it’ll take them decades to regroup but I’m not holding my breath.
Having shared all that I realise I don’t really have a wisdom to impart about feeling like this. I haven’t found any meaningful way of reconciling everything that is happening with what little I can personally do to stop it all. However there are two quotes I’ve found myself thinking about a lot during this month which have helped me navigate through the overwhelm. Both are from Lord of the Rings, the first is directly as Tolkien wrote it in The Fellowship of the Ring, the second being taken from the movie script summation of a passage Tolkien wrote in The Two Towers:
‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.
‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.’1
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SAM: It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened. But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something.
FRODO: What are we holding on to, Sam?
SAM: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.2
I’m choosing to use my time on this earth to keep fighting for the good in this world, refusing to give up hope despite how futile things may seem. So I will keep watching and listening, keep bearing witness to what is happening, keep doing what I am able to do regardless of how small each individual act might be.
And in doing so I will keep my tiny flame of belief, the belief that things can and will get better if we keep trying to make them so, burning in the hearth of my heart.
As you can see above I’ve continued, albeit in fits and starts, with my sketching practice and I now have a lovely little bee to use as a section break in these newsletters. This pleases me greatly since I often find coming up with section titles to break up the text far more difficult than it should be.
I’m leaning hard into my well filling as a way of coping with everything both personal and global. I’m also trying to be kind to myself, allowing my butterfly brain to flit about - from book to book, topic to topic, writing fragment to writing fragment - without judgment or censure. I’ve not written anything for my blog this month despite the vague plans I had for a couple of posts and I’m okay with that. Mainly because I made those plans because I felt I should be sharing something, not because I was burning with excitement to write them. So while it still feels odd not to have any writing commitments this year (other than this monthly newsletter) it also feels necessary as I can now see, with the space to analyse everything, that I was dangerously close to creative burnout.
Since my blogging and storytelling is something I do for the pleasure of writing, not a work commitment, I’m going to revel in the lack of deadlines. Rather than push myself to create I’m going to use this gift of time to let all the possibilities and ideas that keep popping up brew, in the cauldron of my mind, until they’re perfectly steeped and I can pour them onto the page and make magic with them.
I have committed another poem to memory. It is another “silly” one, one that lifts the spirits and makes me laugh (mostly at the idea of Augustus being a sensible, everyday name) because finding joy wherever you can in these troubled times is an act of resistance that benefits everyone:
The Naming of Cats by T S Elliot
from Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo, or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names,
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular name.
As always, I have drawn a tarot card to see what energy or ideas we might benefit from bringing with us into the upcoming month. For June, my Prisma Visions tarot deck has given us the Eight of Pentacles:
Time spent in the pursuit of beauty and the creation of things that delight the senses is never wasted, no matter what is happening in your life or in the world. Take a moment, each day, to give those things that bring you joy and happiness the attention they need to flourish and grow around you.
Until next month, dear readers, may we all find the strength we need to stand up for what is right and the compassion to help those in need without fear or favour. And may we all find a way to keep hope alive in our hearts.
The Lord of the Rings (p. 51), HarperCollins Publishers, Kindle Edition.
From the 49th scene in the film Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, theatrical edition.
The world is too much with us, as Wordsworth said. I find it interesting, perhaps even ironic, that the day of your election - the 4th of July - is the day when those of us here in the US celebrate our independence from Britain. I'm not sure what, if anything, that presages. These "interesting times" we live in are a LOT to deal with, even for those of us who are somewhat insulated from the worst of it. Hugs to you. Drink deep from that replenishing well.
As always summing up much of what I feel incredibly well. Virtual hugs, it’s a tough time all thing considered.