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You think, no big thing; things might change a bit for the exporting companies and some goods in the supermarkets might be a bit more expensive but most of the people don’t live on champagne and roquefort cheese. After all UK is the ninth largest economy in the world; everybody is going to be fine!
And then you get your bank statement posted from Germany, from your bank’s “European head office” in Berlin and you think …wow! Brexit is here, my bank knows it and I have no idea what’s really going on and how much this is going to shape my life. Do I need visa and work permit now to live in my house with my family? Do I need …what do I need? Does anybody have any idea what do I need? Theresa? Boris? Anybody?
Nobody. Literally nobody while nearly 2.5 million UK nationals living in EU realized day after day that their future is somewhere between: we are pawns in a game we don’t understand and Boris changes the rules in daily base and we are screwed suddenly becoming second category unwelcome immigrants. Just like the ones UK likes to avoid wants to kick out and used as escuse for the Brexit. The irony of contemporary life.
But hey, don’t worry; Trump wants talks for a ‘cutting edge’ free trade deal with the UK to start immediately after Brexit. That should make me feel better. NO! It does NOT. British people don’t want Trump’s modified potatoes and carrots or any other artificial food and drink. They don’t want to buy his guns, planes and missiles and definitely no more hotel and golf clubs from him.
Boris keeps saying how badly May is failing and how poor her Chequers proposal is but he is coming rather short to any kind of proposals himself. Two years since the beginning of the negotiations except saying how bad job Theresa is doing, Mr Johnson hasn’t offer a single suggestion on how she should act and what to say.
Did I mention Jacob Rees-Mogg? Sorry my mistake. The British Donald Trump with a little of Farage and Disney’s Goofy; in total: three catastrophes in one body. His public contribution to any conversation about Brexit is even smaller than Michael Gove’s or Joan Collins’, another glorious Brexiteer. At least her excuse is that she likes …Trump and Trump is against EU.
In the meantime I rechecked the bank’s statement. Head office. Germany. WOW! Imagine that. The ninth largest economy supporting the fourth largest economy, all for the glory of a Brexit.
But at least there will be open borders with the Irish republic. Because …because it is part of the empire and Queen Theresa wishes so. So, no worries, nobody is going to miss champagne and roquefort cheese, they will be coming from Dublin.Last minutes denial or we don’t know what the hell we are saying? And, what about the 2.5 million UK nationals living in EU? Well this is Juncker’s problem, you might say. He can make a law and help them if he wants or kick them out of EU which will make him the evil bastard he is.
What about the 2.7 million EU citizens living in UK? No worries there, no worries at all. UK legally will keep the British educated, well professional established, basicaly not east europeans, with good work experience, in needed positions with low salaries and the rest will become tourists or …illegal immigrants. UK is not going to be blackmailed for its 2.5 million UK nationals living in EU because it has 2.7 million EU citizens living in UK for hostages.
What did I say in the beginning? Either pawns in a game we don’t understand or Boris changes the rules in daily base or plainly screwed with the second case winning every single moment UK reaches a no deal Brexit.
No deal Brexit, this seems to be the only way and you know why? Because they have absolutely no idea what to do. Both sides. UK and EU. In UK things are a bit worst because even those who fought for Brexit didn’t believe that it would happen so there was no plan for the day after. And now we are in the day after after after with no plan and 2.5 million UK nationals living in EU while 2.7 million EU citizens living in UK. In total 5.2 million people live in limbo! A country the population size of Norway or Ireland.
But hey, no worries; the banks have created European head offices in Berlin! The ninth largest economy is moving to Berlin while Boris, Jacob and Theresa argue who’s the toughest!
And I’m really worrying!
How do we learn (or relearn) to communicate in the language of creation? Roaring thunder contains the heartbeat rhythm of the hummingbird; lightning, iridescence of the dragonfly.
Heraclitus understood this. As has Paracelsus and certain poets.
Shakespeare makes aware to the alert vital dynamics of the antithetical. How often do his grand characters articulate the paradoxical bewilderment of existence, and commune or contend with elements of night and weather?
In Zohar we learn that scripture is black fire written on white fire, white fire written on black. Only black fire lettering is decipherable in ordinary reality.
Isaac Luria, enamored of the alphabet of creation, translated holy white fire into visions, before departing Safed.
How is it that Luria and the Baal Shem Tov dance at one end of the rainbow, while Ibn ‘Arabi and Rumi play chess at the other?
Through time we’ve been shaped for accomplishment. Better to know how the work is done (and to do it) than to know why.
Check David Sparenberg’s NEW BOOK
THE GREEN TROUBADOUR A Source Book of Performance Ecosophy
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!
David Sparenberg has also 2 more Books in the Ovi Bookshelves,
“Life in the Age of Extinctions volume 2 – Threshold”
Download for FREE HERE!
The night is trying to sleep over the mast of patience
like the moon
And the moon is lightning the bedroom which is overfilled with dreams and wishes
And the moon firing a volcano of love
In the whispers circles between the two sails and oars
The night could sleep a little over the mast like the moon
when the star is touching the cover of the little girl
Throwing the jewellery of love over her pillow
And then you’ll see the moon
no wander happy smiling and telling
sleeeep … sleep
In your morning the freedom is light, and the light is freedom
And that’s my hand over the direction and the destination
A horizon down and down of the horizon.
Thrown up by the earth, and violently.
Long journey down again to earth, slow and slowly.
It’s a long ride, and seldom fun.
Lost in a crowd of people, a big crowd…
You are lost in the crowd, alone in all the noise…
You must stay above the fray, no matter what.
Mark it, anything can happen.
The deformed, the defamed live here.
You wrestle, but the enemy continually morphs.
Desperation rises in you when you realize that
those who are appointed to love you – those close to you
revile you, and aloneness gains ground and you lose your footing.
You cannot break out. You do not know what it means to break out.
Every thing seems to fall out; you cannot get ahead,
you think: “what’s the use?”
Hell! Do not neglect to raise it.
Damn! Do not let such a thing hold you back.
God! Will not save you.
The trick must be, to be rambunctious, be cagey, be anything but quiet,
be whatever you cannot even imagine, and what you should not want.
Your final destination and destiny are waiting, and it might not be bad.
Check Dr. Lawrence Nannery’s Poetry Collection:
“Translations from the Cinema”
You can download them for FREE HERE!
The modern art world is filled with pranks and pranksters, the clowns who have decided that play counts for art. Brattish artists foist a range of projects and conceptual themes upon art galleries who, foolishly, see emperors decked in the finest wear. They refuse to consider that the wear is absent, an expensive mirage that tells to an old tale of the imperial ruler without clothes.
This is a world, of transaction, appearance and display, based on conceit and seduction, the toying by the super star artist of the necessarily gullible, and the acceptance on their part they are bearing witness to the exceptional. When Banksy’s Girl with Balloon was shredded at Sotheby’s (a sort of art styled seppuku), it was subsequently, and all too quickly, transformed into Love is in the Bin. Technicians in the room did not seem too fussed by the occurrence, and diligently went about their business of retouching the new piece for the market amidst nervous laughter and much tittering. Banksy’s own company Pest Control granted the work a new certificate. Another prank had been played.
The anonymous woman who had initially bid for the previous painting at the point of shredding found herself in raptures, but had to play along as initially shocked. (She may well have been, but this posture seemed distinctly contrived.) The £1,042,000 was well spent, thank you very much. “When the hammer came down last week and the work was shredded, I was at first shocked, but gradually I began to realise that I would end up with my own piece of art history,” came the observation from the buyer.
Marketing executive Stephanie Fielding feels that Sotheby’s would have been in on it. “One would hope in an age of security consciousness they would have known that such a contraption was inside the artwork.” Sotheby’s did little to dispel this notion, boasting that the new work had been “created in our salesroom”, and was “the first work in history ever created during a live auction.” Its employees also added to the tattle, a layering of playfulness. “I don’t think we knew,” came the guarded receptionist, “but we’re not allowed to say anymore.”
For more HERE!