On laughing through the bad times

There’s no escaping the news at the moment. A buffoon is in the White House (a man who thinks climate change is just ‘weather’ has his finger on the nuclear button). Here in the UK the referendum has exposed deep divisions which are exploited by extremists on both sides. Years of austerity have left those who look out for us impoverished and demoralised; the horror of Grenfell Tower is a testament to the powerless of the poor.

It is enough to make anyone wants to retreat into a corner and chew their own arms off. How can we feel anything but useless when those who are meant to take decisions on our behalf continue to disregard the needs and feelings of the disadvantaged? In the U.K. David Cameron’s suggestion that those who wanted nurses and firemen and women paid reasonably were ‘selfish’ (when he is paid however many thousands for one after-dinner speech) seems to sum up how little politicians care about those who elected them.

Most of us are totally powerless to change anything - other than being kind to those around us. And we must never underestimate kindness. It is, surely, evidence of our continued humanity in spite of everything. Small kindnesses can make a huge difference. 

But I think we need more than that - we need fun. How, you might ask, can we be frivolous when we are surrounded by misery and uncertainty? Isn't it somehow insulting to those in abject need if we take time out from breast-beating to have a good party? Doesn't spending time in unnecessary jollity imply a lack of concern for the general political and social mayhem?

But I think it's essential to take time out occasionally. Laughter is, in itself, restorative. Good food, especially eaten with those we love, nourishes far more than our stomachs. Even a dance round the kitchen is oddly energising.

It's probably not possible to manage a precise balance between frivolity and general angst. While it might be tempting to ignore the dreadfulness and live hedonistically, such a view is an abdication of any responsibility to hold our politicians to account. But spending every minute fighting injustice, in the light of apparent indifference from those in power, must be hugely demoralising. 

Somewhere there must be a balance - and maybe that changes from day to day. But I think it's worth striving for, even if we get it wrong most of the time.

Grumbling

Goodness me, we've got a lot to grumble about at the moment. I almost can't bear to watch the news - what with Trump and his trumping, so say nothing of the lies and self-aggrandisement of our election. 

Here in the south of England we're worried about the lack of rain - the gardens are parched. Even closer to home, a recent gas leak brought the town to a complete halt; children were late for school. Closer than that, and I'm embroiled in a house-selling saga that ... I won't go on about that, it's too tedious.

Hang on a minute. I won't be homeless. What's more, my home has electricity and running water and the bricks won't be eaten by ants (not like this home in Malawi):

So, children were late for school. But their teachers waited for them. Their teachers are overworked and resources are limited. But they will be paid. And the libraries won't leak during the rains leaving books and equipment soggy and unusable (not like in Malawi)…

Our gardens are parched. And the farmers are warning of a poor harvest. But most of us will have enough to eat - I know there are hundreds of families who use food banks here (unforgivable in a country as rich as ours) but we aren't dependent on the World Food Programme to feed about eighty per cent of the population.

I can't even think about Trump. But our election: I know it's tedious, but it's important. And I know I've posted this picture before (in connection with our local elections) but it's a mantra (from Malawi) that needs to be sung from the rooftops:

We can do more than lick our wounds.

It's a few days, now, since That Election. And there has been twaddle spoken, and written, from both sides. There has been plenty of 'it might not be so bad' reflections, which seem to have forgotten what a racist, sexist bigot American has elected.

On the morning after the election my daughter, Anna, wrote one of the most eloquent pieces I have read. She wrote when feelings were at their most raw - and I certainly couldn't have put sentences together like this. (I make no apologies to anyone who has already seen this - it bears repeating.) She has agreed that I can copy it here:

"For the second time in six months I have woken up to a darker, more terrifying world than the one I went to sleep in.

"For the second time in six months I am reading a feed full of anger, despair and fear for the future of the world.

"For the second time in six months I have a sick feeling in my stomach as I think about the future that we all face.

"For the second time in six months I am facing the realisation that the way I view the world is not the view of the majority of people.

"Well no more. We can't change the past but we can take responsibility for our own future. Those in charge may not agree, and we cannot stop the way they are behaving but they are not in our houses. They are not on our street. They are not part of our community - in those places we have the power.

"So, starting today, we need to be the change we want to see in the world. To help those who are suffering, talk to those who are lonely, stand in solidarity with those who are abused. To be welcoming to those who are new to our community, and to help others understand that new people are nothing to fear. To celebrate both those things that make us different and those that make us the same.

"And above all to spread the word of hope for a brighter future, and to do everything we can to ensure that the next time we get to vote, the voices that are loudest are those of hope, tolerance and inclusivity, and not those of fear and hatred. We won't get to vote again tomorrow, or next week, and probably not even next year. But we will - and we will be ready."

She is also part of a group putting her words into action: she is supporter of 'Swindon: a city of sanctuary'. It is a movement to seeks to ensure that anyone who needs a place of safely, for whatever reason, can find it there. And they aren't alone - follow the link on the site and you'll see that these groups are active all over the country. You can find out more about them here.

Here is that the change she is pleading for in action. Good things can grow from all the rage and helplessness of Wednesday morning. We must - we do - believe that.