I’m sorry about my absence but I can’t be the only one who is confused, dazed, horrified, upset, appalled, angry and exhausted, by the chaos that is surrounding us. We all have our opinions, we all think we know what should be done, we all know who we want in and out and out and in. We all point our fingers and cowl under the pressure of thinking we’re right, they’re wrong. We know better, they know nothing.
Yet still the grass pushes its way up through the concrete.
Broadcasters scatter the news, 24 hours of relentless horror. 24 hours of wall to wall coverage of the splintering of people lives. Congratulating themselves on who can get closest to the bullets. Turn away if the pictures upset you. This report may contain language, images, philosophies that may upset you.
Yet despite the carnage, purple clover manages to spring up through the cracks.
There are those that say endings have to be brutal, that transformation is always difficult, that the old makes way for the new, that it takes innocent Martyrs to shed light into the murky corners. But with loss comes pain, unnecessary suffering, the emptiness of grief. We watch and cry, paralysed this side of the screen.
And yet the world spins round regardless.
Powerless in the face of cynical reportage. Who to believe?
Frustrated in the face of self serving politicians. Who to believe?
I weed the beans, pick the raspberries, water the flowers, walk bare foot in the grass, thinking that I can’t be the only one who is dazed and confused.
Thankfully there are those out on the street doing, helping, caring, being. Whilst the elected still waffle and obstruct. Blame and deflect.
Who to believe?
When a country polarises it cannot pull together. When a country is riven with hate and anger, ignorance and intolerance, then the vulnerable suffer.
We await clarity.
We await calamity.
We fear the loss of free speech and democracy, we lament the loss of community and reason.
But, no matter what, the buttercups break through the bleakness. Shining their yellow faces to the sun.
The only constant is change, and change we must.
Tell me I can’t be the only one who is exhausted by the chaos surrounding us.
Primary schools are introducing chess. Instead of signing up for computer club hundreds of children are signing up to play chess.
In the quiet they think. They interact. They engage.
Conviviality and co-operation, silent connection.
Check mate – here’s to the future.

4 thoughts on “Check”

  1. You write well Jeni. The time has come for you to write a book. Have you considered it?
    And yes, life marches on through calamity after calamity. What do we understand! Each and everyone of us needs to try make it a better world by excepting and tolerating all of mankind. By doing a good deed each and every day to help someone out to start with. Oh would that solve many problems!
    How are you spending your days Jeni? Any work or projects in the pipeline? Will we still be treated to your soothing voice on the airwaves once again?? I cry for those bygone days!
    Wishing you all the best.
    Enjoy the weather while it lasts!

  2. Shelley …
    “Let a great assembly be, of the fearless, of the free …
    “Rise like lions after slumber,
    In unvanquishable number,
    Shake your chains to earth like dew
    Which in sleep had fallen on you –
    Ye are many – they are few.”
    Breathe 🦋🦋🦋

  3. Remember that old song? ‘Let there be peace on earth.’ There’s a line in that which reads ‘Let me walk with my brother in perfect harmony.’
    I live in a village and we have a mosque, a chapel and a church. Last weekend on my way to chapel I could see the mosque was packed full of people. As they were coming out they were more somber than usual. Even so we all said hello. They must have been so sad. I thought of those poor people in Finsbury who had been going about their business just like the guys in our mosque here. It really made me sick to think anyone would attack our little mosque.
    It’s a small village. We get along. No matter what faith, clan, country or culture we call our own surely we can all find a patch of common ground somewhere. It might never be the perfect harmony from the song, but we have to heal our country somehow.

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