Dreams of Universal Divinity.

23 12 2008



The complexity of the present world and our unconscious complicity in it, both-good and bad- makes it very difficult for us to see where we are going and takes away our ability to be the masters of our own fates. If you are interested in this tumultuous process which came to maturity in 1750 and is still growing, allow me to recommend Industry and Empire by E Hobbesbawm. That title may have errors and I’m not on the net at present to correct it but  Google will sort it out for you. Hobbesbawm is a left wing  historian whose fastidious and exhaustive research on this part of our history is peerless and wonderful reading.

Now, prior to this time our societies in the West very much resembled contemporary peasant communities in Asia. Most people never left their villages in their entire lives. As they grew into maturity they were instructed by their mothers and fathers in the simple requirements of their agrarian existences. They had no incentives to change and the developing industrial pioneers had to resort to some shocking legislative measures to make the timeless professions of the peasantry and crafts guilds increasingly incapable of sustaining them. One of these methods was to pass laws prohibiting the use of the traditional common grounds for grazing their few animals , geese, ducks,sheep etc.and this destroyed their independence. Men, greatly against their wills, were thus forced to go into the towns, leaving their families behind, and work at building the factories. Once they had done so,  and the machinery was in place and they were beginning to unionize, the men were fired  and replaced by the more tractable women and children.

One effect of this was an abrupt rupture of the  ancestral knowledge transfer and a headlong plunge into an accelerating technological learning curve which today moves too rapidly for it to be of much use to the next generation. The ancestral mental span between the words  “Today” and “yesterday”has narrowed to a slit of light illuminating the”Now”. Even the codes in which the past was encrypted are disintegrating, and the very machines on which we recorded them cannot recognize them. Who, these days has a floppy 31/2” disc on his computer never mind a 41/2”? A greater and greater percentage of the populations came to be reliant on employment, and independent subsistence became harder and harder to sustain.The wage slave had arrived. The trouble with this is that the new slaves are dependent upon  ’The Market” for sustenance and as the present economic collapse has plainly illustrated, the market is a much less dependable provider than a hard working man or woman—or better- a team of each, operating a small plot of land.

As local markets for factory products began to saturate, empires were born under the barrels of guns and the flags of state and the appearance of double-speak concealed the mass slaughter of indigenous peoples. Increasingly murderous wars covered battlefields with the bodies of growing millions of young men, whose wanton murders were rationalized with vapid patriotisms and ideologies in wars that were declared, seriatim, to be for the purpose of ending of wars. And in this growing carnage materialism thrived, even as the savagery spread to civilians and children. Modernity had arrived:guarded by the military for ‘our security.’

No sooner had the cannons ceased rumbling across the macerated bodies of the young, buried by the millions in the Somme than the new industries, conceived for the production of the tools of living, once more switched to the more profitable production of the means of death. Governments and people, as though in paroxysms of madness at the realization of what they had done to their children, again summoned their young men and informed them that because of their gender it was time for them once more to become state murderers in the name of the preservation of such ideals as human rights, equality,democracy and security from violence whilst in practice violating every one of those precepts. Again the guns rang out. Planes made by Rosie the Riveter roared into neighbouring countries scattering democratically undiscriminating death in greater concentration than ever before. Peace died and lunacy ruled the world for another six years and seven in Asia where in one war cemetery in Kanchanaburi a Mom had inscribed on the grave of her son killed on the Railway of Death   ‘Sleep on dear son and brother, Take thy rest. God really thought it was for the best.’ The ancient bloody Gods were apparently alive and well. I have only to close my eyes for a moment to hear from the bloody depths of ancient history the trundling of the bodies down the outstretched arms of Moloch.

In any great sustained struggle we will come to resemble our enemies as though confronting a distorting mirror in which we cannot recognize ourselves. Thus it was that the victors of World War two, their brutalities vindicated and hidden by military success brought back on their boots the hidden seeds of the Fascism that they had been fighting in Europe. It was this that another generation of young who had not shared their perils and circumstances decried declaring. ‘You can’t trust anyone over thirty.’ The psychedelic generation had arrived.

And it was from this generation that there sprang up a new ethos hitherto thought to be the sole purview of Gods; The idea of secular love as both a social cohesive and a scientific entity; Love. With which I will close this little rambling with a crude kind of poem from the depths of winter and solitude.

Why should it be that when

I say those words the

Ocean’s thunder rings In my mind

And a seagull laces the sea’s crinoline

With a ribboning threnode of grief?

Yet it is to you that I think, and

The frog’s wooing like a beer parlour.

Yes, to the mosquito’s insistence on proximity

In this orchestra. These I speak for.

There is a pattern of Love

That draws me onwards.

I cannot pause, the memory

Of a journey’s end draws me on.

“Do you think  it’s good to pass your life alone?”

She said to this lake of blessing

Overflowing on to this page.

In the winter’s dark gut

I think about my friends,

Visualizing first their faces, then remembering

Why I love them. A shower of qualities

Blossoms over me and the vision breaks through.

“The task is great and full of responsibility.
It is nothing less than leading the world

Out of confusion, back to order.

The universal OM will be sung by

Every living human or not at all.

We cannot afford the ancient game of factions.

Wake up ! Wake up!

The immemorial dream is over and man

The divine-led is on the road

To the ancient source, with blood on his hands.”


And for today, “So long, Dear World” Laurie



I s




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