It’s been raining every day for weeks. Catching a cold gave me an additional reason to stay indoors, but the other morning, in the bright lull after a heavy downpour, I ventured out for a couple of errands, taking the usual shortcut to the shops on Ledborough Road, through the derelict school yard and the magic fence. Well, it was magic once—you’d see a young man stride purposefully through the yard from its only gate, disappear from sight through a clump of bushes, then hey presto! He emerges on the other side of a tall chain-link fence, leaving it taut and intact. Nowadays nearly everyone, young or old, male or female, knows the trick. The sections of chain-link join in a T, and can be separated by leaning back till a gap appears. Now it has become permanently bellied-out; and though the grass and bushes have grown high this summer, the daily procession of footsteps has worn a bare path, easy to follow.
Still sniffling from my cold but feeling brighter in sympathy with the sky, I took the shortcut, dodged the puddle on the other side of the fence by treading the wobbly plank, careful not to let it splash my jeans. I try to love my immediate neighbourhood, but it takes effort. It’s alien, in several senses. I wonder if others see this place as I see it. But how do I see it? Home is home, but what do I call the expanse outside? Two years ago, I wrote a rhapsodic piece about my neighbourhood, Glimpsing Eternity, and said “Literally, my backyard is tiny. But in a wider sense my backyard is all around, encompassing my journey-zone. Journey comes from the French journée, day’s travel.” I thought of “day’s travel” in terms of travelling on foot. But you can’t cling to blessings like that forever.
I wasn’t looking at my surroundings—my direct experience of “the world”—in the usual rational or materialistic way, according to the objective consensus of civilisation. If I were, I would remind myself yet again that the old school has been redeveloped as a community centre, which houses something called YouthSpace, and a nursery for working parents to drop off their pre-school children. It keeps its hedges clipped, the car park free of litter, the lawn trimmed, everything spick and span. The fenced-off land suffers from a temporary planning blight, whilst the architects have come and gone, lodging their proposals for redevelopment. Every six months, a team comes to clear the litter: old mattresses, furniture, anything and everything, in addition to the ubiquitous squashed drinks containers.
I’ve written lyrically of those discarded mattresses as well, not rejoicing in their presence of course but including them in a generous view, for example a year ago, in this post that I’ve just rechristened Sun-blessed.
You can’t hold on to yesterday’s blessings. The skies this summer have been heavy with rain, a blessing less easy to love. Still, every time I step out the front door, I view the world afresh, aware that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. How fresh does today’s air taste? Does the world smile? Never mind the weather, my interaction with the world depends on its state and mine. On this occasion the euphoric vision of my extended backyard could no longer hold. I felt myself clear-eyed. I saw signs but didn’t understand their language. Nor did I have words to express what I saw. A few days later, in the small hours, I found some words which seemed to fit. I said to myself that I had woken to a new dream. Still didn’t know what it could mean.
Later still, I saw that my Wayfarer’s Notes have been a flight from civilization, a way to ignore the social significance of the world around me. My neighbourhood is no gated community, protected from conflict. I’ve said often enough that it’s a peaceful valley, and so it is; that I’m grateful to be here, and so I am. But I saw that there is oppression here: not everyone can live free. Who are the oppressors, and who are the oppressed? They are not separate. The oppressor is the oppressed. Heavy chains are passed down through the generations, and borne willingly, as if inevitable. I don’t know of any simple way out.
When I realized this, I felt less oppressed by my head-cold, and the persistent rain, and the nameless unknown. I have woken up to a new dream, where my head is no longer stuck in the clouds, unaware of what goes on down here on the earth’s surface, in civilization. I hope the day will come when anyone who wishes can pass through the invisible fence, through the invisible gate.
a wayfarer’s notes 
Who was it said “Tis better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness?”
It may be but a single candle, but I can see it from here.
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Aye, Rev, 'tis better indeed. I'm normally the perfect Pollyanna, but moods change and then you see the thing which corresponds to your mood.
Accordingly my afternoon's reading encompasses Martin Amis' essay on The Age of Horrorism and James Lovelock's nonagenarian valedictory book, The Vanishing Face of Gaia: a Final Warning.
Apart from that, my flickering candle is usually lit. I temporarily mislaid the matches. And it was more a matter of ceasing to pretend that there was no darkness.
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Yeesh. Grim reading indeed. As attending physician I prescribe a generous dose of Douglas Adams mixed with Terry Pratchett. To be taken internally, several times a day until the symptoms go away. Refill as necessary.
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I recently returned from a trip home. My Brother and Sister have fallen on hard times. The trip was a combination of attempts to uplift their spirits, and having my own uplifted by long time friends who spirited me away from my families trials and tribulations.
After a couple of days of conversation with my Brother, I came to realize that we fundamentally address oppression or darkness of the world in different ways.
My brother rails against anything he considers oppressive or invasive to his space. He spends considerable energy devising methods of tamping down the oppressors, and defending his space.
I, on the other hand, spend little energy on such things, unless they are a direct threat to my survival or well being. I spend considerably more time working to improve my condition and supporting what I consider positive influences in my world.
In the end, there may be little difference in the way we view and interact with things. However, I feel more at home building things up rather than tearing them down, looking for positive rather than negative influences.
I suspect my Brother views his efforts to be as productive and the results as positive as my own. And, for every influence I perceive as positive, someone else could conceivably consider it oppressive or negative.
And so it goes…
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your observation/realisation is correct but you are approaching things with a westerner's eyes. it will be biased without you realising it is biased. such is your conditioning, no matter at what level of zen you are or if you have already got enlightenment.
there is much inside the gates, the locked doors, the darkness inside.
it may not be that dark once you are allowed inside.
don't be politically correct, speak your mind, but watch out if it hurts someone unjustly, you have to know if you are wrong to start with. it's better to hurt your mind before it could hurt others. but when the hurting is just, please hit em on their faces.
what i noticed in the internet is that either you guys (westerners) abuse others or repress yourselves. both are crime. both are selfish. the first is selfish because of obvious reasons, while the second is selfish because you don't wabt to disturb the order of things lest it hinders your comfy first world life.
you don't know a middle path. sooner or later, all, particularly west has to learn that. the middle path is to call a spade a spade and if need be, giving a bravado when it is due. that is being true to your human existence.
it sounds like a sermon, it is not (i am too young to you to give one). it is a way of life that i practise myself in my daily life
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Ghetu you are right. I have the westerner's eyes, but also my own, which may come in direct conflict with the westerner's eyes, if we are to accept there is such a definable archetype.
There has been a self-imposed hypocrisy (also known as political correctness) in this country, in which you cannot say anything at all without being labelled racist etc. And a widespread confusion deliberately fostered by the redefinition of “phobia” as somehow including “hate”, where hate implies the possibility of violent action. Which results in no-go areas.
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Thanks Charles for your observations. It's natural of course to react to what we perceive as oppression or darkness. And as you also point out, others not quite in the same situation may regard the reaction as over-reaction. And I admire your tolerance of attitudes which vary from your own.
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But being Westerners (no matter where our opinions lie in relation to others) we automatically assume that we are in the right.
But then, there are fools everywhere.
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We in the USA live in fear, oppressed by the Second Amendment to our Constitution (the so-called right to keep and bear arms.)
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Forsythia, we have things in common – age, retirement, etc. But this thing about the right to bear arms: I'm not sure how people can argue that it makes them safer.
Much more could be said.
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Rev, being a Westerner, I assume that I am more in the right than certain others, but only after a great deal of study. If I find someone who's more in the right, I'll not be proud. I'm proud to be an Englishman, but it doesn't mean I automatically approve everything my country does.
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I try not to assume that I'm right all of the time. I am just glad (most of the time) that I love here and not somewhere else.
For example: I'm glad I wasn't born in France.
I don't speak a word of French and that would prove to be awkward, I imagine.
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Goodness, this was a bit of a reading roller coaster. Just as I felt slightly uplifted, (or maybe I was looking for the lighter notes)I went zooming down the rails, stomach a' heave ho, and was pulled up, not so far, for more up-down moments. It is a clear metaphor for current business and socio-political trends, I guess.
I hope your cold is significantly improved Vincent.
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O ZACL, it's a dreary post. I want to get it off the front page by writing another one, but it refuses to come. Yes, thanks for the good wishes, my cold is essentially over, and we are now in an uncomfortable heatwave, which I gather you are not sharing.
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Vincent, I too notice that my moods and state of mind are reflected in nature and in all that I come into contact with. And I admit that sometimes I like keeping my head in the clouds. I still acknowledge the realities, but I also, like one of your readers, prefer to find the positive as much as I can. Even though your post is dreary, I enjoyed it nevertheless. I look forward to your next post!
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Fascinating concepts. Interesting to note that the concepts, and comments are coming from the “westerners”. Might i suggest that there happens to be a “southern” concept, perhaps philosophy, perhaps unrecorded?
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PS, and here's me thinking that it's supposed to be your 'summer'.
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