How could so free a spirit as Pablo Neruda be so espoused to Communism?
Now, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream.
Love, pain, and work, must sleep now.
Night revolves on invisible wheels
and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber.
No one else will sleep with my dream, love.
You will go; we will go joined by the waters of time.
No other one will travel the shadows with me,
only you, ever green, ever sun, ever moon.
Already your hands have opened their delicate fists
and let fall, without direction, their gentle signs,
your eyes enclosing themselves like two grey wings,
while I follow the waters you bring that take me onwards:
night, Earth, winds weave their fate, and already,
not only am I not without you, I alone am your dream.
How could a man who could write such utterly beautiful lines, and understand the need for individuality and individual choice and freedom so perfectly, align himself to a system designed to create conformity, lack of expression and lack of the freedom of the spirit to express itself?
I think this is an utterly beautiful poem and runs so contrary to everything that the starkness of Communism stands for. My images of Communist Russia as a child were of grey, dark buildings, long queues, empty shops, secret police forces and the oppression of those who had overthrown Tsardom in the name of freedom, only to bask in the Tsar's palaces and live as horrendous tyrants. I didn't take it on trust through the TV stations and newspapers in England, I looked into it by searching books in old libraries, finding interviews with people who lived in that system, trying to get beyond the propaganda of the West, to discover the truth. What I saw as a child shocked me! It shocked me most that ideals of 'freedom' in politics are invariably led by those who simply envy the wealth and power of others and want it for themselves. When power falls into the hands of such people, situations become really dangerous because most of us think, "Oh, it is one of our own....so he is bound to do the right thing..." never realizing that most of those who seek positions of power or to implement an ideal are in it for power alone. It shocks me more to hear the same lies being spouted by the same people with a need to control, but then as soon as I turn my eyes in a different direction and discover something as beautiful as this poem or see the simply divine animals going about their business, just chewing the grass and minding their own business, I am reminded of how the only power that tyrants have is that which is given to them when we believe in their power.
One of these days, I think, there will be a few so-called 'world-leaders' meeting on a stage a summit somewhere, deciding how the rest of us should live, and they will suddenly realize that no one is actually interested in what they are saying. The armies, the police forces, the council officials have all gone home to live their own lives and care for one another in their own communities, and those little boys on the world stage will look so very silly!
And I will still love this Pablo Neruda poem!
Showing posts with label power. Show all posts
Showing posts with label power. Show all posts
A Tale Told By An Idiot
"Macbeth" is surely one of Shakespeare's darkest and most timeless plays. A tale of mindless ambition that leads to insanity and despair, the eponymous 'hero' will stop at nothing to achieve his desire for power and, once he has gained a throne, his paranoia increases until he can trust no one, and life becomes nothing but 'a tale told by an idiot.'
Beyond any thinking person's comprehension is that desire for power and yet it goes on and on until much of history truly is a tale told by an idiot - and more, a tale about idiots with titles like president', prime minister, king, fuehrer and epithets like 'the Great'. What thinking person would consider power as the ability to control others or to impose an ideology on the world? What thinking person would stand before crowds gladly receiving adulation as though he were the saviour of humanity or a god, if he were equally aware of his own weakness? ("Aye, there's the rub..." those who avidly seek power over others, often seem to do so to distract from the weakness in themselves. In Macbeth's case, he knew from the beginning that he had nothing but 'vaulting ambition' which would 'o'erleap itself' and come tumbling down, but few of those in power seem so willing to admit their own weakness).
What is it though that makes some people desire to 'strut and fret their hour' upon the world's stage, in the public eye with a semblance of the ability to manipulate others...for what? I recently watched a most illuminating film exposing a great deal of what goes on behind the scenes in world governments and how the boys play out their games behind the shaded windows of limousines and high class hotels and it must give them such a momentary buzz to feel like puppet masters controlling the show...but it's a game, nothing more, a tale told by an idiot. A span of life - 80, 90, 100 years - is so small a time in the overall scheme of things, and if a person were to be controlling something even for a lifetime, that would be for fifty or sixty years at most. And then what? History and eternity. Is it for those few years - less than a century, only one short lifetime - that these people are prepared to sacrifice so many others and their own soul (and I am not speaking of some post-mortem damnation, I am speaking of what it means to be truly alive with a soul in this life!)? If so, is it worth it? "What doth it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?' Is it worth the constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if everyone else has a dagger aimed for your back, as you have aimed your daggers at so many others?
Is it for a place in history? Then read Shelley's poem, Ozymandias:
"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".
And what of eternity? Eternity which, as far as I can see, isn't what happens when we have left this life, but is ever present. It is present in all the everyday acts of kindness, in the ordinary/extraordinary people going about their lives bringing light to others. It is present in those who care for animals and understand that every one of our actions makes an impact on the whole and even our thoughts contribute to or detract from the wellbeing of the rest of humanity and creation. It is present in every leaf, flower, creature...in all. And, sooner or later, the impression we make rebounds on us. What will it matter at that point whether we had our fifteen minutes or fifty years of fame and power? What will it matter on our death bed whether or not we once had everyone twisted around our little finger? What then will power seem, except that tale told by an idiot.
Real power, on the other hand is something witnessed in those who speak gently with creatures, who calm angry dogs, who whisper to horses or badgers, who walk on unimpressed by those who need shaded windows and limousines to give them a sense of themselves...In truth, real power is something that the Macbeths of today cannot begin to understand. If, for one single day, I could control every thought in my head and remain totally unruffled by external events and free of any need for approval or acceptance in any form; if I could not have one single thought that is not loving and real, I would consider myself very powerful and very happy indeed. Until that time, it would be nothing less than sheer stupidity and arrogance to even begin to attempt to impose any kind of control on others.
Beyond any thinking person's comprehension is that desire for power and yet it goes on and on until much of history truly is a tale told by an idiot - and more, a tale about idiots with titles like president', prime minister, king, fuehrer and epithets like 'the Great'. What thinking person would consider power as the ability to control others or to impose an ideology on the world? What thinking person would stand before crowds gladly receiving adulation as though he were the saviour of humanity or a god, if he were equally aware of his own weakness? ("Aye, there's the rub..." those who avidly seek power over others, often seem to do so to distract from the weakness in themselves. In Macbeth's case, he knew from the beginning that he had nothing but 'vaulting ambition' which would 'o'erleap itself' and come tumbling down, but few of those in power seem so willing to admit their own weakness).
What is it though that makes some people desire to 'strut and fret their hour' upon the world's stage, in the public eye with a semblance of the ability to manipulate others...for what? I recently watched a most illuminating film exposing a great deal of what goes on behind the scenes in world governments and how the boys play out their games behind the shaded windows of limousines and high class hotels and it must give them such a momentary buzz to feel like puppet masters controlling the show...but it's a game, nothing more, a tale told by an idiot. A span of life - 80, 90, 100 years - is so small a time in the overall scheme of things, and if a person were to be controlling something even for a lifetime, that would be for fifty or sixty years at most. And then what? History and eternity. Is it for those few years - less than a century, only one short lifetime - that these people are prepared to sacrifice so many others and their own soul (and I am not speaking of some post-mortem damnation, I am speaking of what it means to be truly alive with a soul in this life!)? If so, is it worth it? "What doth it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?' Is it worth the constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if everyone else has a dagger aimed for your back, as you have aimed your daggers at so many others?
Is it for a place in history? Then read Shelley's poem, Ozymandias:
"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".
And what of eternity? Eternity which, as far as I can see, isn't what happens when we have left this life, but is ever present. It is present in all the everyday acts of kindness, in the ordinary/extraordinary people going about their lives bringing light to others. It is present in those who care for animals and understand that every one of our actions makes an impact on the whole and even our thoughts contribute to or detract from the wellbeing of the rest of humanity and creation. It is present in every leaf, flower, creature...in all. And, sooner or later, the impression we make rebounds on us. What will it matter at that point whether we had our fifteen minutes or fifty years of fame and power? What will it matter on our death bed whether or not we once had everyone twisted around our little finger? What then will power seem, except that tale told by an idiot.
Real power, on the other hand is something witnessed in those who speak gently with creatures, who calm angry dogs, who whisper to horses or badgers, who walk on unimpressed by those who need shaded windows and limousines to give them a sense of themselves...In truth, real power is something that the Macbeths of today cannot begin to understand. If, for one single day, I could control every thought in my head and remain totally unruffled by external events and free of any need for approval or acceptance in any form; if I could not have one single thought that is not loving and real, I would consider myself very powerful and very happy indeed. Until that time, it would be nothing less than sheer stupidity and arrogance to even begin to attempt to impose any kind of control on others.
The Message of a Beautiful Prince
Once upon a time a beautiful prince, called Albert, who had spent his whole life in service to his country, his family and his people, had a beautiful dream of peace throughout the world. A wise and brilliant man, born into a position of some authority, then married into a position of great power, he was determined to use his gifts for the good of all. Whatever the cost to his health or his own comfort, he dedicated himself to duty so wholeheartedly that eventually it cost him his life. The tragedy was that his beautiful dream turned into a nightmare on the battlefields of WWI. His children and grandchildren found themselves on opposing sides. They became enemies and their positions of authority crumbled away as monarchies were overthrown.
Now, here's the rub. If this beautiful man had forgotten the world, forgotten his responsibility and duty, and had simply cared for his family, wouldn't they have been better off? Wouldn't he have been better off? He did it because he felt it was his duty and he cared for the people. The people were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves but, as always, people look to a figure of authority for guidance, and cast their own problems onto that figure, projecting every difficulty onto someone else - a figure of authority. The appalling part is that, as we 'came of age', instead of taking back responsibility, we (people) let ourselves be led by someone who claimed to speak for us: a Hitler, a Stalin, a dictator in any guise. These Hitlers, Stalins (who still appear) did not have the beautiful prince's love for their people, they saw only his power and they wanted it for themselves...
Sadly, to me, the days of the beautiful prince have gone. The sadness I feel about that, is only the sadness that we all go through when we pass out of childhood. The scary thing - far more scary that anything in the past - is the way that we go on following figures who come as wolves in sheep's clothing, promising change or a better world, or promising a great future. No one can do it for us; we can only do it for ourselves by taking back the power that is our birthright, and realizing from the mistakes of the beautiful prince and his beautiful family, that we'd all be better staying at home - not Empire-building, not seizing power, just living without having to rely on someone else to make our decisions for us.
If there were a choice between corrupt bankers and politicians or people like the beautiful prince, I would go for the latter. If there were a better choice between being ruled or simply living and minding our own business, I would go for the latter again. If we learn anything from history, it is surely that we need neither rule nor be ruled. Let's live according to our lights and grow up.
Now, here's the rub. If this beautiful man had forgotten the world, forgotten his responsibility and duty, and had simply cared for his family, wouldn't they have been better off? Wouldn't he have been better off? He did it because he felt it was his duty and he cared for the people. The people were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves but, as always, people look to a figure of authority for guidance, and cast their own problems onto that figure, projecting every difficulty onto someone else - a figure of authority. The appalling part is that, as we 'came of age', instead of taking back responsibility, we (people) let ourselves be led by someone who claimed to speak for us: a Hitler, a Stalin, a dictator in any guise. These Hitlers, Stalins (who still appear) did not have the beautiful prince's love for their people, they saw only his power and they wanted it for themselves...
Sadly, to me, the days of the beautiful prince have gone. The sadness I feel about that, is only the sadness that we all go through when we pass out of childhood. The scary thing - far more scary that anything in the past - is the way that we go on following figures who come as wolves in sheep's clothing, promising change or a better world, or promising a great future. No one can do it for us; we can only do it for ourselves by taking back the power that is our birthright, and realizing from the mistakes of the beautiful prince and his beautiful family, that we'd all be better staying at home - not Empire-building, not seizing power, just living without having to rely on someone else to make our decisions for us.
If there were a choice between corrupt bankers and politicians or people like the beautiful prince, I would go for the latter. If there were a better choice between being ruled or simply living and minding our own business, I would go for the latter again. If we learn anything from history, it is surely that we need neither rule nor be ruled. Let's live according to our lights and grow up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
