This has been a
terrible day. It became clear by 6am that the Conservatives had won
another term as the Government of the United Kingdom and, worse
still, that they have gained a majority in the House of Commons. That
this has happened is almost beyond belief, the pre-election polls
having suggested that, at worst, another coalition would be required. Many had
hoped that, despite their shortcomings, this coalition would be led
by the Labour party and although certainly not perfect that would
have led to an end of the hated Bedroom Tax, an end to the badger
cull, and the continuation of the Hunting Act which bans fox hunting. That we now have to
endure a further five years of a Right Wing government who, without the
softening presence of their coalition partners, will go full steam
ahead with their austerity agenda is a devastating blow. I know very
few people who have not been in tears all day. For myself, I am
heartbroken and a little bit of my belief in people has
died. I am ashamed of my country and ashamed to be English; two
things that I never thought I would say. That this neoliberal
ideology is running rampant across much of the Western world is of
little comfort to me. This is my land, a land that I had thought was
inhabited by people who were ultimately caring, compassionate, and
tolerant. Today, I believe otherwise. Maybe tomorrow it will be
different.
This increase in
Conservative power will lead to the further persecution of all that
is vulnerable and wild in this land. I fear for the poor, the
disabled, the young, the old, the homeless, the low-waged, and the
mentally ill. I fear for the forests, the badgers, the foxes, and the
song birds. I fear for our hearts and I fear for our sanity. I fear that not all of us will survive. Many feel utterly broken, and yet perhaps in that brokenness
we will find our power. We human beings are very good at cutting off
from our emotions, from the reality of what is happening around us if
that reality is too hard to deal with. No doubt this ability holds
powerful evolutionary benefits and yet it seems that it is also
susceptible to manipulation by those who want to have power over us;
they distract us by turning us against one another, offer us
shiny bribes that appeal to our baser instincts, and encourage us
not to see what is really going on beneath the surface of the spell
they have created. And who would want to see the truth when that
truth is so obscene? We would have to see people driven to suicide,
starving, weeping as they are forced to leave their homes, animals
maimed and screaming, forests cut down for new housing estates that
few can afford to live in...
And yet, some of us
do see and we keep on looking; some of us weep for those who can no
longer cry, some love for those who can no longer love, and some see
for those who keep their eyes firmly shut. It may break our hearts,
we keep on looking. It may feel that it breaks us; we keep on
looking. We can't help it. It is who we are. And so, for many of us
who can see what has gone before and what lies ahead, this is a day
of mourning. Many are still on shock. Many have lost hope. Soon will
come the anger. These feelings matter. It is disconnection from what
is sacred; from the land, the self, and community, that has allowed
people to vote the Conservatives back into Government. Without that
disconnection how could anyone bear to put their cross in the box
marked 'austerity'. It is monstrous to even imagine that someone
could have seen the reality and still done so. The tiny part of me
that still believes in the good of my fellow human beings refuses to
believe that that could happen. Those of us who have not succumbed to
that disconnection are feeling the pain and the empathy that so many seem not to feel and in that we keep hope alive. We have to
keep breathing deeply, allowing ourselves to be broken open and, in
the days and months and years to come, we have to live from the heart
and live fierce. What I have come to think of as the 'Tory death
cult', which could just as easily be the capitalist or patriarchal
death cult, suffers from a profound disconnection. It is led by
people who persevere with policies towards the natural world that
will ultimately kill us all, even though that includes them. What
greater disconnection could there be than to continue with something
that holds within it your own annihilation? And yet continue they do.
Those of us with our hearts open are an answer to that. We are the
pulse of Life, with a capital L, and for me that pulse of Life is
Goddess.
And yet feeling
isn't enough for times like these, sitting in prayer isn't enough. If
today has been anything it has been a call to action, a call to
sacred and connected activism in the face of unbelievable greed and
indifference. A few years ago I was shocked to read in the newspaper
that many food banks were reporting that food was being returned to
them uneaten. Appallingly, this was food that needed to be cooked
being returned by people who could not afford the gas or electricity
to do so. I was moved to angry tears contemplating the feelings of
those who, not only had to suffer the shame and indignity of going to
a food bank in the first place, but then had to admit to not being
able to cook their own food. I am sure that many took the food
knowing that it would never be eaten, too ashamed to give it back. That this could happen in the
sixth richest country in the world is almost impossible to
understand. It is shameful and shames us all. I began to think of ways in which we could help one
another; perhaps those who could cook could offer to do so for those
who couldn't, perhaps we could create community kitchens? And yet all
options left me feeling uneasy and despondent and, after some
thought, I realised why; in trying to help, in offering a hand to
the poorest and most vulnerable amongst us, as of course we must, we
would be creating the 'Big Society' that David Cameron has eulogised
on so often. This ideology, based on volunteers filling the gaps left
by austerity, was a flagship policy of the 2010 Conservative
manifesto and suggested that it would take power away from
politicians and place it with communities. In reality, this was far
from the case, with essential services being brutally cut and
volunteers expected to fulfil the roles of those who had previously
been paid. And so, in helping those in need, it felt that we would be
not only absolving the Government of any responsibility for the care
of the most vulnerable in society but also proving them right. This
insidious turning of those with good intent against who they were
trying to stand beside and offer a hand to is one of the reasons why
I despise the Tories; they are treacherous and would like us to be
just the same, or perhaps they assume that we are already.
And so I gave up my
idea of somehow helping people to cook their food and tried to take
action in other ways but the idea has kept coming back to me again
and again. Today, devastated by the election results, I went for a
walk, pressed my body against a tree and cried, gathered up some
hawthorn blossom and buried my face in its creamy petals, breathed in
the scent of what is real and of the earth, and the thought came back
to me again. This is not a time for sitting and mourning what could
have been. This is a time to take action like never before. I have no
doubt that, just as I am writing this, there are people, worn down by
the previous ConDem coalition, who are contemplating five years of an, even
more heinous, Conservative majority and wishing that they were dead.
No, this is not the time for those of us with open hearts and tears
in our eyes to sit and mourn. We no longer have the luxury of that.
People are dying. And perhaps those of us who can still feel and know that the world is broken are the ones who have to do
something about that. Maybe we have to be the whisper of the wild in
a world gone dead and cold. This is hospice Britain and someone has
to care.
And so, something
that I have spoken of with friends before came back to me, but this
time with a name; Souptemple. It has often been suggested to me that
I found a Goddess temple; something which I feel no enthusiasm for at
all and yet the thought of something
pulsating with the love of Goddess for us all, but with a practical
purpose in reaching out to the most outcast, does seem bright with
hope and promise. It seems to me that in times like these, when the
vulnerable amongst us can't afford to make themselves a hot meal,
that this is an idea whose time has come. I sat in the café and
wrote everything that popped into my head and I am sharing it now
just as it is and with, hopefully, some of the energy that I felt
when I wrote it...
Souptemple
~ food for the belly, heart, and spirit
Provide
free food, nutritious and made and served with love, containing as
many wild and foraged foods as possible. Made to look beautiful and
bright. Providing nutrition, dignity, love, and solidarity, together
with connection to community and the natural world.
Could
be in beautifully decorated vans but would be good to have a building
to provide a place to be, together with workshops building
self-esteem through creativity and connection to the natural world
and one another.
Sacred
activism ~ campaigning against food poverty and against loss of
dignity and self-determination of the poorest and most vulnerable in
our society.
Provide
wild medicine/herbalism.
Create
the beauty of the hedgetemple wherever we go.
And
so there it is; the seed and the sowing of an idea. I don't know
where it will go. It is an idea that never leaves me and, today of
all days, it wanted to be made more real. I feel unequal to the task
of making it happen; too scared, to shy, too wobbly, too inexperienced, but I am lifting
a prayer for its growth and for the continuation of Life amongst all
of this. If anyone has any thoughts please do let me know. There is much more to do and we will do it. I refuse to stop believing in the good of people. And, in the meantime, I spit on David Cameron's 'Big Society'. This isn't
'volunteering'. This is love.
 |
| Comfrey Fritters, made by Will Greenwood, April 2011. |
