Re-membering the fallen of the Great War 1914-18

In this time of remembering the lost youth of the Great War, it is so important not to allow this to be hijacked by the establishment.  By the politicians, the monarchy, the Military Industrial Complex, the established religious and business interests.
For it was into the hands of those interests that the flower of British Youth was given, and scattered like chaff into the wind.  750,000 pieces of chaff.  Gone.  Wasted.  For nothing.  For a Game of Thrones.
For the strutting tin pot generals and their kings and hangers-on are ever with us, it would appear.
And if remembrance should mean anything it should be a commitment to end this catastrophe that is also ever with us and so we should remember all the men, women and children of Yemen, the Congo, Palestine and anywhere on our fragile Planet where ordinary people struggle in the endless onslaught of terror and violence and death that pursues us as a race like a gaunt and implacable shadow.  Let us consider the Caravan of the impoverished heading now towards the American Border seeking hope, against all reason, fleeing the murderous land of Honduras.  Seeking solace and charity from the Americans who tremble with fury at their very approach, in the shape of their Presidential Hater.  All they want is peace and a chance.
Let us remember the courage of our lost boys.  But let us curse the warmongers and haters and the weapons makers.

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE!

First there is the song of WAR that rises,

Boils, and gurgles in the pumping blood.

Sing O Argives cross the dusty plains

Of Troy, a shout of joy-To kill!  To kill!

Such glorious joy the blood to spill.

To read the fear in enemies eyes

As entrails spill like treasure in the trench.

Sing the songs of bloody ecstasy.

Those razored words will cut the hardest steel.

Let the axe sing in the morning bright

And swords ring out like bells against  the shields.

The words are hacked into the hearts of youth:

It is a fine day on which to die,

And anyway who wants to live forever?

Ride her hard: Remember to die young!

Go see the world, and blow the fucker up!

Fear is for the others:  Fear is bad!

Hear them screaming for their mother’s arms,

And take joy in the tears of cursed foes.

We are over here, and they are over there.  

C’mon boys let’s do the bastards!

Rape as an act of war is not so bad,

And bashing out those babies brains was good!

Now we rain down arrows from the moon;

We have contracted Death himself to our clan,

Though it must be said he’s mercenary;

He’ll do both sides business for a song.

And deep within the caverns underground

Or in the stars of death, spinning in space;

War is woven in the dreams of hollow men.

Iliads spill out of crooked looms.

Assassins seek the sons of Omeros

Who sing of warriors as idiots and fools.

Their fearful verses drown their battle-crys.

Make burning pyres of all their vacant flags,

And tear their uniforms to tumbling rags.

In Memoriam of My Granda:
Private John O'Neil  
Highland Light Infantry

The corrosive power of hopelessness-WHAT CAN WE DO?

1.  LEAN LOGIC.  A masterpiece of sustainable thinking.

David Fleming was a holistic economist and among other things, involved with founding the Green Party of England and Wales.  His book Lean Logic: A Dictionary for the Future and How to Survive it is a masterpiece; posthumously published. Surviving the Future gives a taster of the Dictionary. Take a peek. 

2.  Non-violent activism.  We must push back.  It is our moral duty.

Gene Sharp’s 198 Methods of Nonviolent Action. Find out more at the Einstein Institute‘s website. Pick a nonviolent action and change the world.

3.  Human Rights are necessary.  (But need to include rights of non-humans).

An attempt to set down some basic rules for Utopia? Have you read them?

2.  Cars are shitty!

Yes I know I am a old VW Campervan nut but get this:  Cars ruin cities. Cars isolate us. Cars pollute regardless of fuel type. I’d like a car free world. This is a hub for the growing car free networks around the world.

Plant for the Planet has a mission to plant a trillion trees and they need all our help. 

Just one of many petition based lobbying organisations. Don’t get cynical. Keep signing them. One large scale campaign from Avaaz is calling for huge areas of the planet to be returned to wildlife, to allow the biosphere to rejuvenate. Rewilding is close to my heart and is a big part of the solution to our problems.

Only take what is necessary. But what is necessary? Shinji's vision quest in the Burren.

A boy of say eleven years,  Hamato Yamamoto, was kicking a football in his garden against a wall.  His father Shinji came out in to the garden and after watching him for some minutes went to his son and said, 'My son we will be leaving for the Martian colony very soon.  It is time for you to begin packing your gear and sorting out what you will be taking and what will be left.  Remember we are only taking what is necessary.'
Hamato stopped the football smartly,  his foot balanced on its top.
'Of course father.  How will I determine what is essential?'
'What's that?' said his father quickly.
'How will I know what is necessary?'
Now this was most strange for Shinji stared at his son with an expression of sheer amazement so that the boy became disquieted and said nervously,
'Father!  Are you ok?'
But Shinji continued to look awestruck and amazed and just repeated,
'What is necessary?  What is necessary?  What is necessary?'

And so it occurred that the Yamamoto's missed their scheduled economy class trip to Mars aboard the Muskbus, due to the fact that Shinji had left home for the weekend and not returned.
He had stated gravely to MiriM, his wife,
'I must go away for the weekend, alone.  There is something I need to consider deeply and in quietness.  I shall return when I have found the answer to this puzzling question.
'Of course my beloved husband', said MiriM who was by now used to some of Shinji's strange habits.
'And what is it that you will be considering?' she asked sweetly.
'I shall be considering what the answer is to the question-What is necessary?'
'Of course husband.  I shall be most interested to hear the answer to this most fascinating of questions.' said MiriM.

After some consideration Shinji decided to spend a little time in Ireland in the place sometimes described as a limestone desert and known as the Burren.  Here he would find a quiet spot and contemplate what, if anything, is necessary.

The Yamamoto's lived in Sussex by the way, in a small incestuous hamlet called Trumpton, famed for its small racecourse and home to several hundred imbeciles.  There is no connection to the Burren except that Shinji had once dreamed of being there for a rain and wind-swept night and was, for some reason unknown to himself, irresistibly drawn there now.
Shinji set himself up in his small tent by the entrance of a cave and began his contemplation.
The days passed.  Then months.  Then years.
Five years later Shinji arose from his sleeping bag which was by now well worn and exiting his tent he was aware that he could return home as he now had the answer to the question-what is necessary?

Upon returning to his family, they gathered around the kitchen table to hear from Shinji the answer to the eternal question while the ring necked doves played haunting melodies in the garden.  Hamato was now a young man and in a close and loving relationship with his phone.
'So my husband' began MiriM, who had aged beautifully,  'what have you discovered?'
Shinji spoke softly but with complete assurance.
'It is necessary to take with you an Art.  The Art of Balance.  What is necessary is to contain and integrate the essential and to flow effortlessly like a river.  The Art of Balance is the ability to contain imbalance because equilibrium is only a temporary state and in most cases time creates spontaneous imbalance and it is that state that requires The Art.  This is what I have learned in the white wastes of The Burren.'
The family all looked at him with puzzled or bemused expressions.
'But what does this mean?  How does this assist us?' asked MiriM.
'Sounds like, you know, sort of mmmm... weird, if you like get me' said Hamato looking briefly up from his furiously texting thumbs.
Shinji said-'No it does not matter now what it means.  That path just leads to confusion.  Now, let us get our tickets booked.  I have spoken for many hours through the nights with the shade of Aldous Huxley and he has affirmed it is time for us to go.'