|A coded message from Emmadamus spotted on a French country walk|
This week the storks returned to Saint Savinien from Africa. The world was otherwise filled with death and mayhem. Tanks (apparently privately owned by amateur military enthusiasts) rattled around Eastern Ukraine. Amateur religious enthusiasts did some mass beheading to bring us all closer to God. Euro money politics fenced around with the concept that it’s the Grexit wot wrecks it. And yet even in the cold air a thermal lifted these hopeful voyagers above our little town in South Western France. The legend of storks bringing babies is that they re-appear in Europe nine months after mid summer day. Maybe the message is also a cryptic reminder of re-birth and new hope.
In a clear sky it’s easy to tell stork from clutter
Generally I am a very positive person. Fears of doom and disaster are over played in the media. Yet, as the pretty face of Spring makes its first weak smile, I see a troubled frown ahead. A vicious war is stoking up at the gates of Europe. Rootin’ Tootin’ Vlad’ the Impala is leaping ahead of our lame pen pusher bean counter politicos. Elsewhere, radical religion offers young warriors the sense of belonging and purpose denied to them by the world financial system. The fact is that our play safe geeky faux meritocracy is weak and we have been sussed out. It is not that our leaders have not stood up for our beliefs for they do not know what they are. Our swords have withered into spreadsheets. Politics has been played out on a pitch the size of a handkerchief in an arena the size of Alaska.
And yet even in the cold air a thermal lifted these hopeful voyagers above our little town in South Western France. The legend of storks bringing babies is that they re-appear in Europe nine months after mid summer day. Maybe the message is also a cryptic reminder of re-birth and new hope.
|Brave young French kids ride the torrent at Saint Jean d’Angely|
The financial collapse of 2007/8 was a warning that the structure was rotten. The bloated corpse of private greed was covered over in a shallow grave dug at public expense. We’ve thrown in some quick setting cement and all our gold coins but erected no headstone. We resemble the court of Louis XVI at Versailles.Who could not marvel at our palace? A stock market failure or other financial crisis will capsize our fragile little boat into a white water torrent. From such catastrophe new leaders arise; and quickly. Cometh the vacuum, cometh the fist. Every accordion player is a philosopher.The suck is as strong as the blow. The one invites and defines the other.
We are at the e cigarette end of the Christrivian era. Our cosmetic goodness-lite is non judgmental and not tested on animals. Yet.
Emma Thinx: You can’t back off if you’ve got no front.