Two screens…

Today I worked from home. There is sickness in the house- M and I seem to have picked up some bug or other, and as a result, sleep was largely absent last night.

So I toiled most of the day on some reports- including ‘equality impact assessments’ relating to proposed service redesigns. If that sounds boring- well perhaps, but it actually relates to the need to save money from already overstretched budgets so actually, it is an ominous kind of boredom. It relates to an activity that will potentially have impact on lives and livelihoods. So forgive me- this post is a wee bit of therapy for my soul.

Open all along the bottom of my screen however, mixed in with various documents I am trying to make sense of, are other kinds of writing.

I found myself flicking between two screens-

One contained a file into which I am typing dead, anodyne yet scary words into an predetermined format.

The other contained a poem I am working on.

The contrast is palpable, and painful at the same time. Like being caught between the body and the soul. This dual life that modernity has condemned us to.

Not that we have any kind of right to an easy life, full of creative choices and mystical mountaintops to be conjured at our own choosing. This kind of self-activating-self-fulfillment-self-absorption is equally repellant.

But how we all long for a life of simple integrity, where what we have is enough, and all the more so shared.

And how (today at least) I hate bureaucratic solutions to human problems- no matter how necessary.

Time for a poem I think. An old one, from ‘Listing’

Blessed are those who are poor in spirit…

Blessed are they in failure
Blessed are they in repeated defeat

And blessed are they in
Every empty success

Blessed are they when plans, laid out-
Are stolen

And dreams are drained by

Middle age

Blessed are the wage slaves
And the mortgage makers
Blessed are those who keep on treading

This treadmill

Blessed are they who have no hope
And for whom life is
Grey and formless

Blessed are the B-list
And the has-been’s

Blessed are they at the end
Of all their coping

For here I am

And here I am building

My Kingdom

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