Preservation

‘Hunger, love, pain, fear are some of those inner forces which rule the individual’s instinct for self preservation.’ Albert Einstein

My initial response to the concept of preservation is it’s like an N.R.A approach – be willing to take a life in order to protect one. I have always believed that is utter crap. I have argued this on The Northlands I won’t go into it again except to give this summary and link:

The reason I hate guns is if we have got them we use them. I have had really fucking awful days when the thought of a quick and painless end to it all would have been attractive. Thank God I didn’t have a gun. I have had fucking awful days when I could have cheerfully blown my husband’s head off and done a happy dance in his pooling blood. Thank God I didn’t have gun. I strongly believe people do not have the right to bear arms… no matter what is says it says in your constitution.

It is also (as in the image I chose to illustrate this post) an illusion. A rose pressed into a Bible like a blood stain. How can a dead thing be considered preserved? The simulcrum is all that remains; the mammoth in the ice, a damp fossil. Take the DNA, create a new beast and what have you preserved ? A sense of man as god? Or a faker? Magician or illusionist?

So is preservation ever worthwhile? I think it is a subtle power. Culture preserves a sense of self and Faith a sense of Soul. We should be willing to die for something. If not the right to bear arms then maybe the right to lay them down.

Destruction

I have been avoiding making this post for a month. The truth is when I said that I would post on the five themes I knew there was only one thing I could discuss under Destruction and eh, it is hard.

My Dad has cancer and I am afraid he is slowly dying.

Ok, that is that out in the open, so let’s delve a little deeper. I have this Hindu/Buddhist journey thing going on. My dad is an athiest. He says he believed in God when I was born but I think it had worn off by the time I had started school. So he faces death as the ultimate, no bullshit end. That’s it, it has been wonderful, drive safely, lights off, goodnight. I wish I were a proper Christian so I could say “no not that, this” (heaven etc.). Because although my dad could be a bit of a shit and in his day was a lot of a womaniser – he is a wonderful human being and would be the kind of guy God would love to have on his team. But I am the mess of faith and so I find myself believing something, but what? I have no idea. Suddenly my search for an answer has become more pressing, because my dad is on the edge of the abyss.

Aside from the desire to give my dad a convincing alternative to his spiritual nihilism I need the comfort myself. Wolf talks to his dead. I’m not sure when, or how often. But he communes… and sometimes (at least from the expressions on the cats faces I think this is the case) they drop by for a visit.

I guess this is why Faith is called Faith and not Knowing.

Incidentally, dad isn’t cashing in his chips yet. He is ready to fight and the weapon of choice is chemotherapy. Here I recognise Shiva’s dance – destroy to create. Just wish I could touch his hair one more time before the destruction starts.