Trust

Trust, a noun, is defined in my two volume Shorter Oxford English Dictionary as: "Faith or confidence in the loyalty, strength, veracity, etc., of a person or thing; reliance on the truth of a statement etc., without examination."

 

Now in the World today, (I almost wrote "dystopian World"), what is it or who is it that we can say truthfully and honestly we REALLY trust? 

 

Governments and the Politicians involved? Surely not.

The banks? I don’t think so. 

Law enforcement? Their image is slipping I believe – so maybe not.

What has been called "Big Pharma" – the giant pharmaceutical companies that control the production and marketing of the products the medical profession prescribe? Again, I don’t think so. 

Big business – those multi-billion dollar companies? Especially those involved in producing what is known as Social Media or in extracting fossil fuels. Once more, I don’t think so.

Religious organisations? Surely not now after all the abuse scandals – at least the ties that used to bind are now broken.

 

So what or who are we left with who are trustworthy?  This is almost impossible to answer. I really don’t know. Most certainly not every person involved with these organisations is untrustworthy; many would hold themselves to the highest levels of integrity.

 

The trouble is that money and the accumulation thereof gets in the way. Company board’s of directors are often pressured to producing ever-higher dividends for shareholders. Such boards are almost obliged to pursue any means, repeat any means, to increase profits – and damn the consequences.

 

Likewise members of parliament are often fixated on holding the "Party Line" and hanging on to their "seats" by satisfying the wishes of a relatively narrow cohort of voters in their electorate.  

 

But then all this doubt leaves us lesser mortals in a state of quandary. Who or what do we trust? We are left, metaphorically, seemingly up a creek, in a canoe, without a paddle.  This is not good for one’s state of mind or for the well-being of Society as a whole. 

 

In such circumstances people may turn to their own interpretation of the news or events and construct conspiracy theories to suite their interpretations. This may provide a version of the "certainty" that many are searching for – however misinformed it may be. Again this is not good for the wellbeing of Society.

 

But this is what I believe is happening.

A very personal view of Life

To write from the heart; to write what I really feel is sometimes difficult. It is so personal, so private that I hesitate to put “pen to paper” as the saying goes.

For instance I don’t know where I came from – I mean did I exist, somewhere, before I was born? Will I exist, somewhere, when I die? Is there a great “collective unconscious” – some inexhaustible well of “Life”, or energy, that is drawn upon with a birth and replenished with a death?

Is this what God is?

Trying to understand all this (and please don’t correct me!) I have concluded that God is not “my” God. God is not personal, has no gender and I do not think that God cares one way or another what we do or why we do what we do. We reap what we sow – that is the Law; the only Law. This Law is immutable. This Law is Universal – literally. It is the Law of God. And like any “basic” law it is very simple. This is our “lesson” to learn in life. This great “collective unconscious” grows as we grow in understanding. This is why we were born.

This brings me, by a rather circuitous route, to grief. Grief (in my experience) is the searing, tearing, hopeless dawning knowledge that what was will no longer be. It is almost – and this may seem very unfair – that the greater the love, the greater the grief. But this is the way the “Law” is expressed – what I sow I reap. And love is a necessary, a vital part of Life. All life forms need love (nurture) and express it according to their kind and is why there is “Life” (or so I believe).

Together we were strong, Magucha and I – each supported and nurtured the other and the bond was a loving bond.

This, however, is only about my feelings, my love. What about, in my case, what about my wife Magucha? What about her love for me and her children and grandchildren? At the moment of death did she grieve that she would no longer have me at her side or see her children, her "babies" again?

All I can remember is that she turned her head – slightly away from me – and then 'ceased to live'. But what did that mean? Was she turning towards something; turning towards something she saw or sensed? Or was it as I suspect, that she turned away so that I would not see her deep (if unconscious) relief that she was now released from the bonds of life and (possibly) a recognition that her love would now return to that from whence it first drew life – and therefore help replenish it. Replenish it with her knowledge, her wisdom, her emotional strength, her insight and her love that had been gained through the harsh furnace of pain and illness that she had endured and overcome.

I rebel against and cannot contemplate the concept that at the moment of death a person is “purified” and will lead an “unblemished” life in paradise. That does not fit with the Law! When we die we take with us our whole baggage train of deeds – good, bad and indifferent. It cannot be any other way – the Law states that we reap what we sow.

All this of course begs the question of whether there is “life after death” or whether “the old soul takes the road again” and is reborn. I don't know!

It comforts me, however, to believe that Magucha’s indomitable spirit has made us all stronger because it has rejoined, has replenished, the great “collective unconscious” from whence all life is derived.

Farewell my love! Fare thee well. ’Till we meet again. Saudades.

I’ve edited this post by changing the poem:-

Emily Dickinson wrote this (with her unique punctuation) –

The Heart asks Pleasure – first

And then – Excuse from Pain –

And then – those little Anodynes

That deaden suffering –

And then – to go to sleep –

And then – if it should be

The will of its Inquisitor

The privilege to die -  

Uncompromised Love.

Love has always been the driving force of life. And by “love” I do not just mean passion though that obviously plays a part. I am talking about the love between friends; between husband and wife (or the equivalent partners) that develops after many years of life together; between parents and their children and love for Humanity. That kind of love – which IS uncompromised.

The power of love is recognized in poetry, in song, in novels and literature, in art and in opera - it is the power that drives us all. This cannot be just “chemicals in the brain” or hormonal juices, there is much more to it than that!

Now I loved my wife in a manner that I find difficult to portray in a meaningful way to others. Tenderness – yes; closeness – yes; deep understanding – yes; ability to communicate without necessarily speaking – yes; trust – yes; talking about problems – yes; sharing – yes; respect – yes, all this and more that I do not have the words to explain.

While neither of us was in anyway saintly, there was a fulfillment that seemed to make the two of us stronger in our own way. Magucha was an amazingly strong person, not physically strong (she was very small in stature) but emotionally and mentally she was spring steel. Her resilience, which defied all that the world could throw at her, astonished everyone with whom she came in contact.

This strength – which I, for one, found quite inspiring – is epitomized by the following poem by Alfred Noyes, and this is for her:

The Anvil

Stand like a beaten anvil, when thy dream

            Is laid upon thee, golden from the fire.

Flinch not, though heavily through that furnace-gleam

            The black forge-hammers fall on thy desire.

Demoniac giants round thee seem to loom.

‘Tis but the world-smiths heaving to and fro.

Stand like a beaten anvil. Take the doom 

            Their ponderous weapons deal thee, blow on blow.

Needful to truth as dew-fall to the flower

            Is this wild wrath and this implacable scorn.

For every pang, new beauty, and new power,

            Burning blood-red shall on thy heart be born.

Stand like a beaten anvil. Let earth’s wrong

Beat on that iron and ring back in song.