Conflagration

Posting a photograph of the house on December 29th prompted me to write about how moving here had been a downgrade from my previous property, which led to an explanation about the house in Washington.

Then, one story led to another and I found myself writing at length the short tale of the foster care home I once ran for cats which I called Yeti’s Kitty Suites.

This is not something I had ever done before, but I dearly loved the cats who came to us and often think of them . It felt good to write their story finally, but as it progressed the process became increasingly hard. Back then, I couldn’t afford to become too emotional, so I think I saved up a lot of tears and maybe it was time to let them go.

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Having an on-going subject to write about saved me pondering other matters which, given developments over the past fortnight, was fortuitous.

One cannot fail to notice what goes on, but having other things to write about is a good distraction, for a few minutes at least.

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Car trips that usually serve the purpose have been unusually few and far between lately.

But there have been some.

One took us on New Year’s Eve to Clifton Park. Now that I go to a different clinic we seldom pass that way and I had nothing written in my date book, so I was puzzling for a bit over what on earth the purpose had been, of that excursion.

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Though I am not so rash as to depend on it, I have a reasonably reliable memory, so forgetting things annoys me.

But then I remembered getting a phone call the day before, asking me to go there to pick something up. We were in the car, my datebook at home, so I noted the time on a piece of paper and if not for the photographs I would never have thought of it again.

The sort of trivial information Brain normally loves to clutter itself with.

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It was nice re-tracing an old familiar route.

Clifton Park itself is still rural but close to the State capital, it is far busier than our quiet corner and over the past year we have seen a lot of construction, homes mostly, I think.

The appearance of building sites reminds me of a major reason I left Washington.

Even nearer to home trees are being felled and plots cleared. It is unsettling.

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The more I know of people, the less I wish to be around them and I have done a good job of isolating myself, yet there are many good people in this world. I very much enjoy all those I am in contact with through my blog.

Writing always was my preferred means of communication!

Mentioning the Kitty Suites above, I alluded to the repression of emotion. It is something all humans do, from necessity. Laughing and crying at the wrong moment, for example, is inappropriate and can certainly be inconvenient.

After Panther died, I recall one day bursting into tears in the supermarket. People must have wondered what was so upsetting about a loaf of bread.

It was one of the few times I failed to hold back.

So, a little repression is helpful, but there needs also to be an outlet for unexpressed feelings and in this increasingly frenetic world, there seems to be less and less opportunity for it.

The result a host of other negative human emotions and anti-social behaviour.

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On Sunday we attended a recital by the Battenkill Choral: “Go for Baroque!”, featuring Palestrina, Pergolesi and Vivaldi.

As I sat enjoying the music I couldn’t help but think of the contrast between what I was witnessing there and what I had earlier seen in a news item.

Humans are capable of creating and performing such wonderful music and also raining down hatred on their own kind for no other reason than their target is different and they have been persuaded that different is dangerous.

In the aforementioned news clip, Buddhist monks conducting a silent peace march were being loudly reviled by onlookers who proclaimed themselves followers of Jesus.

(Would he approve their actions?)

When did Buddhist monks become a threat to Christianity?

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Repressed anger and frustration is what leads ultimately to massive thrash-ups in the form of world conflict, not because most people favour it, but because power-hungry monsters or madmen use the dissatisfaction of their people to provoke war for their personal profit.

Surely by now we might have learned a better way of expending pent-up energy?

If we could separate ourselves from the need to acquire money and spend a little more time engaging our passions it would certainly help.

Dance, music, sport, building, creating, gardening….

The list of productive activities is long.

But first we must dampen the building conflagration.

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