Snowdrops in the donkey field

Enough of that.

Rock n Roll rebelled against Pop, which turned around and swallowed it whole. 

Which was just what the rock n rollers wanted all along.  You can’t have the Rock n Roll lifestyle without the cash and you can’t have that without commercial interests.  And what is a performer without commercial success?  Just another performer.  Who, among them, would have wanted that?  Revolutionary guitar heroes with large farms in Dorset?  Beats the Essex hinterland, I suppose?  One great guitar revolutionary famously told an interviewer that if he gave his new found wealth to causes he could only give it once – better to use his position of influence.  So much for working class heroes.

But must all human life naturally gravitate to a world of lies and bullshit?  Politics, organisations…  If some people put as much effort into fulfilling promises as they put into developing excuses, we would all be living better lives.  Perhaps it’s the system of reward – the way to the top.  Tried and tested.  Not too surprising in a system that’s built on impossible promises / unrealistic expectations.  Maybe it’s the price of democracy.  I don’t know.  The Left believed (in some societies at least) in a quality education for all – making citizens politically self-aware.  But then the Left baffled even itself with ideology.

Some days I feel like two people operating in the same headspace. Step off the train, bisect the brain.  That’s our lot I suppose.  Always trying to fit one set of beliefs with another – always having to compromise.  I suppose it’s the extent to which we find ourselves doing this that brings stress and strife.  Who we rub shoulders with.  We’re all on a moral continuum somewhere, confused by codes and values, many mis-sold as the only way.  Stress comes from trying to accommodate opposite ends of that continuum. 

The system encourages the wrong behaviour - encourages those who can pass themselves off as trustworthy while mis-informing people who, anyway, hold unrealistic expectations. 

But what does a gradual erosion of morals do to a person’s innermost being?  How does one reconcile one’s self?  Do people who've sold themselves ever think about life and death, or just stay busy and entertained, considering such ponderings as harmful and damaging?  Maybe they defer reconciliation to the point of death?  Christianity was cleverly designed to offer that service.  Or perhaps they stand fast and bullshit through their final agony, telling themselves they did what had to be done.  But, surely, this plants new doubt?  The dread of death may be the fear that at the final moment we cannot live with who we are.

Perhaps humanity is nothing more than an experiment to assess whether animal life is capable of maintaining a moral existence amid the pressures of survival.  Maybe it’s a bet.  I’d be interested in the size of the wager.

The snowdrops are lovely.  Prepare for bad weather.