A Quote From Chaucer And Gaia’s Flaming Wrath-Her Suffering & Our Salvation

Sometimes, poetry is the most efficient, carbon-neutral vehicle to the soul:

From The Pardoner’s Tale, by Geoffrey Chaucer:

...But, sires, o word forgat I in my tale:
                 But, sirs, one word I forgot in my tale:
920         I have relikes and pardoun in my male,
                 I have relics and pardons in my bag,
921         As faire as any man in Engelond,
                 As fine as any man in England,
922         Whiche were me yeven by the popes hond.
                 Which were given to me by the pope’s hand.
923         If any of yow wole, of devocion,
                 If any of you will, of devotion,
924         Offren and han myn absolucion,
                 Offer and have my absolution,
925         Com forth anon, and kneleth heere adoun,
                 Come forth straightway, and kneel down here,
926         And mekely receyveth my pardoun;
                 And meekly receive my pardon;

As I see things, secular humanism acts at the level of belief. There are as many and as various strands of belief as you can find.

I’ve explored a bit of Romantic Collectivism as I’ve experienced it (Back To Earth, back to the postmodern Body, back to feminine and feelings first movements against the masculine and the rational, back or out to a deeper universalism which includes animals, plants and microbes etc.).

With community comes irony. In the world, there are always people in dire need of a (M)oral (C)ause.

As with human things, wisdom is ripe for folly; knowledge for foolishness. Passion can become intimately linked with ignorance and conformity, as much as it might be with intelligence and courage.

There’s plenty of middle-brow environmentalism to go around, too, pushing a PBS-style vision for the public (Saganites) while sanctioning Righteous Activism (Socially Just…the goal is to change the World)

And there are increasingly means to gain (S)elf-Knowledge and (S)elf-Esteem when times get rough (therapists as analogous to priests, with knowledge enough to explain our interior lives, our social lives and our ‘oughts’ to us and guide us to light if only someone pays for their bread).

Surely, they can’t all be right?

For God’s Sake, there is no shortage of lethal ignorance, hypocrisy, self-denial and manipulative indoctrination in the Catholic Church, either. I’m guessing this is why the message of Christ is endlessly debated and re-booted (if you’re looking for what’s true, what’s good, and what’s beautiful, you can not necessarily expect it in this life).

Many of the same people (and types) would have just gone into a nunnery/the priesthood about 150 years ago.

We’re all made of this stuff, of course. Some good thoughts and impulses; some bad, selfish, and destructive thoughts and impulses.

Upon hearing “Gaia” you might be thinking mystic, earth-worshippers (green religion at its worst) but our author uses the theory put forward by James Lovelock over 40 years ago as an interesting philosophical meditation.

“Perhaps in the end, Plato had it right: We need both perspectives, Heraclitean and Parmenidean, to get the whole picture. At our peril, and at our children’s peril, we ignore the messages of those seminal Greek thinkers.”

A Philip Larkin Poem And A Memory From An Irish Vacation

Dublinesque

Down stucco sidestreets,
Where light is pewter
And afternoon mist
Brings lights on in shops
Above race-guides and rosaries,
A funeral passes.

The hearse is ahead,
But after there follows
A troop of streetwalkers
In wide flowered hats,
Leg-of-mutton sleeves,
And ankle-length dresses.

There is an air of great friendliness,
As if they were honouring
One they were fond of;
Some caper a few steps,
Skirts held skilfully
(Someone claps time),

And of great sadness also.
As they wend away
A voice is heard singing
Of Kitty, or Katy,
As if the name meant once
All love, all beauty.

Philip Larkin

Of some interest?:

One evening, my family found ourselves around a communal table (for lack of space) in a small-town Irish pub. With two red-faced British couples, also on vacation, in their fifties or so, we made conversation. Surrounded by locals, one of the Brits began to wax philosophic: ‘What do we think of the Irish?’ ‘Well…let’s say the Irish are really just British who’ve wandered off a bit’, gesturing to everyone around.

I remember…being quite shocked. I looked towards the face of the older tweed-coated gentleman, elbow to elbow next to me.

No reaction?

His eyes were blank, slightly downcast.

I then remember thinking: ‘Them’s fightin’ words, yessiree bob, or enough to get yourself into a real pickle back home.’ (my inner narrator is an old hobo/prospector).

Welcome to (H)istory.

Wednesday Photo-Freedom Is Next

After you’ve undergone our seven-night welcome session, your white initiation robe will be given a red band. ‘Redbands’ have full access to the dormitories, performing hall and two on-site cafeterias.

Six months and two bluebands later, you’re officially a member of the Session UN.

Two years and two global tours after that, a recital of the Global Human Rights Charter will be scheduled.

Five yellow stars means a Merit Leader will have emerged, with full access to the Staff Budget, Policy Handbook, and Equity Index.

After a successful Global Human Data & Trust Mission, a soulful chorus of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ will fill The Stadium Of (M)an.

Three extraordinary, beautiful humans will take the stage to receive their Golden Diplomas.

Seattle Photo-The More Things Change…

Some say ‘Delicatessen’, with its 156 minute run-time, is a slog. Three hours of film cut down from eight, taking place entirely within a midday Parisian deli, can be a bit much. Half-heard conversations. A 13 minute single-shot discussion of death, children and cheese.

Others say no modern work illuminates as many centuries of French history, family tensions and socio-economic struggles as does this modern French classic.

***Auteur theory: New Wave theory holds that the two female protagonists are simply puppets for Clement Barreau’s own failed marriages, disgraced career as a pop-signer, and his desire to ‘burn down the Sorbonne and stand like Napoleon within’.

After Clement Barreau’s infamous 1967 Dakar rally accident, his body was returned to Paris from the colonial deserts.

C’est la vie, mon ami…

***Easily manipulable images and standardized, formalized text are happening right now. Keep your bullshit detectors finely-tuned.

Seattle Photo-File 59

After the Crime Syndicate strikes on Christmas Day, only hours remain.

Detective Harry Rama finds himself out of free literature, out of patience, and, most importantly, out of time.

A Bellinger True Crime Series Classic.

Not Really Science, Kinda Like A Religion-Some Eco-Links & A Discussion Of Adam Smith

First, from Darwinian Conservatism: On the Question of Religion and Ethics, Adam Smith Was the Last Esoteric Writer:

…”yes, a God-like being plays a central role in Smith’s ethics.”  In making that argument, he believes that he is in agreement with a long list of Smith scholars, and I am on that list.

Whether or not it’s the new Technocratic (S)cientific Consensus of (M)an, or the new Gospels of (M)an, we might want to remember much of the context the Scottish Enlightenment thinkers had.

I hope we don’t get too esoteric and Straussian.

Because you didn’t ask:

I think of enviro-preachers more on the Gospel side of things. They move like unwell country pastors, seeking-out soapboxes near the Sunday Service.

Is he still married?’ Doesn’t he live out near Cooper’s farm?’

The original sin is industrialization, you see, and we are all sinners. The cure always seems to be more Humanist/Anti-Humanist gospel. Liberal idealists hate to be caught too close to such utopian, poorly-groomed men, where questionable dressing habits usually indicate a (C)ommitment the (C)ause.

‘I hear he rides his e-bike eighteen miles one-way from Stockbridge to buy ox-meat.

‘“Save the trees, save the bees, save the whales, save those snails.

Out: Older kooks with older media.

In: Newer kooks, whose mental instability is therapeutic, and a sign of passionate authenticity:

Tim Black at Spiked: “The Ongoing Creation Of Greta Thunberg.

‘It is all very disconcerting. From her breakdown, to her recitation of carbon-emission facts, the Greta that emerges in Our House is on Fire doesn’t feel like an individual. She feels like a fictional device. A God’s fool-style character, descended down to Earth to expose our folly.’

Come on down!

Shit! Tell me you didn’t buy a house with The GovCo Collective Housing & Blackrock Authority?

It’s built on an environmentalist burial ground!