Archive for October, 2010
It is no wonder we continue this abstracting, story-mutilating practice when we read our bibles. “story” is not serious; “story” is for children and camp fires. So we continuously convert our stories into the “serious” speech of information and motivation.
Thought this was worth your perusal. Great EP too.
[Sorry if it didn’t embed right…]
- In modern (for the sake of this I mean the past 50/60 years, though it is more apparent recently) society we believe in a certain sense of entitlement – an entitlement to our four score years and ten. Pensions, retirement, leisure time have all contributed to it, but I beleive modern medicine is the most powerful driving force behind this idea that all human beings have a right to 80 years of health and die peacefully in their sleep
- as a result we are unsure of what to make of it and feel no way of understanding our own deaths or those of others in the context of the narratives we identify with in many other aspects of our lives. To try and simplify – we let medicine tell us who we are, how we should live and how we should die.
- we attribute to modern medicine power and glory because we believe it deserves it. Doctors are happy to show us how wonderful they are and we are keen to believe their story.
- those with faith convictions often appear as scared and confused by early death as non-believers. People who believe in the sovereignty and goodness of God often seem to find their hope in medicine than God. Or put it this way – God will do fine if medicine doesn’t work.
- In allowing modern medicine such significance and power in our lives and society (sometimes with better reasons than others) we do violence to our own and others humanity
- as cynical and critical as I am of big pharma I also believe that doctors (often the most powerul lobby amongst health professionals) are key to this.
- having said that I believe that the medical-industrial-complex is only so because we want it that way. We want to believe the narrative we’re being sold.
Finally made it round to a walk in the hills. Has been far too long.
The photo is of Great Sugar Loaf, which makes it the third sugar loaf I know of. The others are all a lot more substantial. But also a lot further away.
Nice views over Dublin from the top
And some even lovelier people
And some not so lovely views
But autumn is here
At rush hour, the golden hour of public tranpsort, between five and six when people are rushing around desperately trying to be home to make dinner and pick up the kids and whatever else they have to do.
At rush hour stations are busy bustling places. The platfroms throung with punters. Those in suits with briefcases.
But not in the evening. Not come 9pm with the various disparate individuals seeking transportation home. Those running late at the office making apologetic phone calls home. Young guys wtih guitars. Groups of girls with shopping bags. People like me after food and drinks with the guys from work.
Tara St. is like a little floating island of a train station, struggling under the weight of the load it’s asked to carry. The platforms shake as the commuter trains trundle past with their diesel engines roaring.
Today I feel cold. The first day I feel properly cold. As if autumn was only playing with change in the seasons till now. I’m looking forwad to my seat. To settling down in the corner of an empty carriage with my copy of Hauerwas. I like the isolation. I like the loneliness.
Sometimes.
Sometimes I worry that I drift off up my own arse in introspection and isolation. I liked Into the Wild because it appealed to me not because i thought it was right. But look at me getting all self-referential. You didn’t come here for the first person did you?
All that effort all year to grow and be green and then in one spectacular week it changes colour in an act of superfluous beauty at it’s best. Helps me get the difference between that which is good and that which is beautiful that I struggled with earlier.
It’s taken me a while together comfortable with sitting on the floor of the train when there’s no seats. Sometimes, if it’s really busy then you can’t sit even if you wanted to. There’s just no room.
But sometimes, you’re the only one on the carriage with eveyone else smuggly seated, deeply engrossed in the new Dan Brown.
The floor was clean(ish) and it hadn’t rained so peoples shoes weren’t sloshing water all over the place. So I did it. Just plonked myself down leaning against the wall.
The next girl to join the carriage saw the taboo had been broken and popped herself down opposite me. She was wearing a skirt though and seemed to be struggling to maintain her dignity a little more than me. I suppose, like most people, she had a little bit more dignity to maintain.
Back in the day when I used to hang out with real live people and tell them their chest pain wasn’t anything serious, little old rears used to tell me “you’ll go far young man, you’ve a lovely way with you”.
After I’d disconnected their nitrous and stopped their morphine I would make this joke, asking them “which would you prefer a nice doctor or a good one”.
I used to be suspicious that the two were mutually exclusive but I’d much prefer a humble doctor to both.
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