Free But Never Home

 

I was hanging out with a refugee today, a man from Togo, a country with a bad human rights record and a history of dictatorships. Now he’s in Hong Kong of all places and while he is free from the troubles of his past he is by no means home. So I wondered, if he managed to find another country more suitable for him than the infelicitous Hong Kong, a place where he could at least draw some parallels with his home, would he be happy? While he could attain happiness by being away from persecution he is far away from what used to be, his home is gone.

I am fortunate, for though my home is somewhat transient, I can still pick out people, places and aromas that bring me home. For this I should be grateful and yet I don’t truly appreciate it because if you were to compare my joy to this refugee’s then I surely come out on the bottom.

Perhaps I need to re-evaluate my fortune.

War Is Hell

War Is Hell

War is hell but I wouldn’t know,

I grew up with toys and TV shows.

War is blood but I never see,

Seen too many movies for it to affect me.

War kills but I don’t care,

There’s plenty more to send over there.

War is greedy I understand,

It’s all for riches deep in the sand.

War forgets, as we all know,

We’ve already done it, just a few years ago.

War is good, it makes us tough

Gets rid of those who aren’t strong enough

War blinds so called ‘patriots’

Who think to kill is good and righteous.

War is right and never wrong

That’s why its women and children who are always bombed.

War is just another part of life

Along with the poor, disease and strife.

War is just a means to an end

When it’s full it starts over again.

 

© Nathan Sarchet-Waller 2007 

Coursework For Nostalgia

I think I should do a photo essay of all the places from my past. Today I wandered into places I’d scarcely visited since my teenage years and such feelings hit me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I enjoyed them, they seemed a mix of good times and bad times devoid of their sting. Yet the whole thing impressed upon me a slight sorrow as that chapter in my life is closed, I can’t revisit it like I rewatch old tv shows.

That’s why I reckon I need to get out with a camera and capture the buildings and landscape of my youth. These things won’t always be there and yet they serve as a peephole into my past.

The Mire Of Media

There are two types of people. No matter what you say there are two types of person in this world and I will prove it. First you have your creative type, they are constantly writing, drawing, filming, editing, playing etc, they spend all their time making things. Then you get the other type, the one who enjoys the fruit of the creative type, they read, listen, watch and critique what has been exposed to them.

I used to think that I could be both but now I fear I must choose which way to go (ignoring the notion that you cannot change your role as creator/enjoyer because you are made that way). Because if I am enjoying the fruits of another’s creative talent then I have no time for my own creative endeavours. I must either create or enjoy creation (which is to ignore another notion that creation is the muse of creativity).

I ask this now as I am building a collection of TV shows, audiobooks, albums and movies on my computer, over 500GBs so far. So I ask myself whether my time devoted to the collection and archiving of this media steals me of the opportunity to enjoy creating rather than enjoy creation.

Leave Me Tender

It’s inevitable that sometimes life will pull away the chair that you were about to sit on and point and laugh as you tumble on the floor. It’s funny when it happens to other people but a little harder to take when it’s one’s own derriere resting on the floor. You can’t fight it or hide from it as it will find you, death, taxes and the flummoxing whallop that life meets out from time to time.

As I see it there are two ways to react, the first is to whine away as evidenced here, and the second is to simply take it. Now from the way I have just said it I’m sure it seems I think it nobler to take my suffering without the vocal woe of a troubled adolescent. I have to say it’s true. I liken life to a meat tenderizer, it’s purpose is to smack you but you get better and better each blow. What seems to be so similar to a weapon in fact beats tenderness, understanding and strength into you. But If you balk at your beating then you miss out on all the goodness it brings. At least that’s what I try and maintain in my mind as I’ve tried the whining reaction enough already.

Without getting too high brow Shakespeare describes these choices brilliantly: to be is to live and to suffer, not to be is to die and sleep and dream. There you have it: life vs death, suffering vs dreaming. 

 

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 

Or take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

No more; and by sleep to say we end

The heartache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil

Must give us pause…

David Crowder Band

David Crowder Band played at the Passion event last night at the Queen Elizabeth Stadium. I seriously think they are amazing and seeing them live just blew me away. I love it how they are original and yet Christian, independent yet submissive to God. God is creative and expressive, religion is the neat freak who works for a moving company and has to put everything into a box perfectly, without anything sticking out.

Annoying Ankle

Yesterday in rugby training my ankle got caught between the ground and a mass of bodies, after spending the night with my leg raised, compressed and iced I went to hospital. One week no work, three weeks no rugby. Just as I was getting into the new rugby season… I played a desperately unfit yet fruitful game on the weekend and it had whetted my appetite no end. Now I will try and record a song this week.

My Mobile Musings

 

I find I have musings whilst I am mobile, to say that as I am walking around thoughts come to me. These thoughts are sleight of import and rarely escape their cranial prison but never the less I want them to taste freedom. This is their escape, their Raquel Welch if you will. That as I am out and a thought hits me I shall post it. No frills, just a few lines and perhaps an illustration to complement them.