© Pierre Maré,
2004 - 2007
Offbeat 83
I wanted to write something about the biological imperative for self-defense, contrast it to the various religious approaches to murders and then link the two up in a rather sarcastic piece about how the fundamentalist Christian right has completely abandoned Christian behaviour in favour of negotiable values, depending on the economic gain inherent in the circumstance and whether or not the word ‘democracy’ comes into play.
Unfortunately, but probably fortunately, I don’t have a thought in my head at the moment. That’s right, folks. I’m one tree short of a forest and about as sharp as a submarine sandwich with extra lettuce, so I will leave the mayhem, bloodshed and wit alone for this week.
I woke late this morning, thanks to my much-loved wife. She headed my daughter off at the bedroom door and, I presume, took the Barney and Noddy shift on television. I don’t know… I was asleep.
As I write this, it’s a Sunday morning. The Lion King is playing in the background and my daughter, who asked to watch it in the first place, is playing with the dog, in the front garden.
After seeing it about sixty or seventy times, I am quite comfortable with The Lion King. It has become like one of those kitsch pictures that are so popular on calendars that hang in kitchens, the ones with sunflowers and puppies; ugly in their naivety but comforting in their presence. Even the fact that Disney chose a Mandrill baboon, one of nature’s most wanton psychos, as the ‘wise old man’ figure doesn’t bother me today.
Earlier on, we spent a bit of time in her room, drawing and playing with memory cards. After that we made strawberry jelly. It has been a wonderful morning.
We are trained from an early age to be productive, responsible and mature, and to use every moment as if it was a key to untold riches, power and fame. Stolen moments, seeing the world through the eyes of child, are frowned upon. But a little extra sleep and some time with my daughter gives the lie to the idea that there are better things to do.
Early to bed and early to rise does not necessarily make for wealth or wisdom. Nor does continuous work. My guess is that it leads straight into a deep rut from which it is difficult to see anything or react to opportunities. Purpose is sort of like a computer: it wants to be turned off from time to time, in order to clear out its processors and scratch memory.
One day, I hope to be able to be lazy, not to have work on my mind, or even in the back of my mind, all the time. I would like to be able to lie around and stare at the ceiling, following whatever thoughts come my way. But that day has not yet arrived.
I am sure that by the time I get back to work I will be sharper and more effective, thanks to the few hours when I was not myself, more capable of putting the absence of religious values and global politics into the same framework, or whatever else it is that comes my way.
For now my head is empty and I am relaxed. It’s as if I am living in an advertisement in which the world is perfect. It’s probably an advertisement for air-conditioning or pool cleaning. I don’t know which of the two but a pool and air-conditioning are two things that I would love to have around the house.
The problem with being lazy is that I am not good at it: it makes me nervous. If left to my own devices for a few days, I usually devise something to do. Perhaps, when I am wealthy, if I ever get wealthy, I may break the habit with a cook, housekeeper and gardener. Or perhaps I will find bigger things. On the other hand, global politics is not my cup of tea. Nor is televangelism. And I’m sticking to the basics: ‘thou shall not kill’, even if the object of my ire is sitting on top of a large, lucrative oil field in another country across an ocean and a cultural divide a mile deep.
Once I wrap up this column I will probably go and lie on the bed, stare at the ceiling and see where my thoughts take me, probably to my wife and child.
Normal service will be resumed next week.
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