Updated: May 8, 2020
This series of blogs, of which this is the fifth and final, started out in the Maltese language. In it I have attempted to make clear the role of the images of the donkey and the carrot as they are used in the album Diski Għall-Ħmir (Songs for Donkeys). I have now decided to switch language in order to constructively and effectively respond to changes in context and necessity; for we HAVE to change, and sometimes change is required of us “on the fly”.
This last entry in this series of blogs, has been made to look less colourful and inviting for the 'reader'. It contains less pictures and more blocks of text. It is only for those who feel that authentic living is worth their precious attention and time.
This entry will conclude the previous four by pressing them all into one single point.
The Maltese have found it terribly hard to swallow the red pill, which in this case is a simple admission of our stupidity. And the more I observe the world around me, the more the uncomfortable realisation that I have made a serious mistake arises in me like a tummy ache. The mistake I have made is simple: the challenge of calling out our asinine tendencies was primarily directed to the Maltese. But it is clear now that stupidity is a fucking pandemic, compared to which the Conavirus one is but a fluffy little bunny. Stupid me!!
Hmmm... let me see... wait a minute... what about that “stupid me”? How dishonest! In the very admission of my stupidity I call on the root of all stupidity: ME. In my false humility I solidify my pride, my isolation, my separateness.
In seeking to solve MY problem I lose sight of the fact that ME is a FICTION, an illusion that makes of the world around me into a problem to be solved, rather than a gift within which the being that I am takes place.
It is this ME, dearest sisters and brothers who inhabit this wonderful Earth, that is the illusory source and goal of our very real stupidity. And if you, right now, just felt a little tremor in your solar plexus, let me beg you; do not cover it up with a barrage of thoughts and questions about whether or not you are stupid. That's a given, don't worry about it. Let the tremor hurt, be present for that hurt. The real question is to what extent are we willing to deal with the fact that we are slaves. This is how we change; by facing any reality that manifests before us, not by escaping in the empty promises of compulsive and reassuring thought-odessies.
This 'me' (a.k.a. 'the little me') is plagued and suffused with self-interest. It therefore looks upon other human beings, other forms of life, even the Earth itself, as a possible threat. It lives in constant fear of being found out, of not being good enough, of not having enough; it fears intimacy, silence, the simple peace of a wild flower. It fears. It is fear, a form of fear that hides (as fear does) in our unconscious and which is the emotional version of a constant imagined threat. It directs the movie of our lives through unconscious predictions about what could happen in the future; predictions based upon pain from the past that it cherishes like a dog his bone. Like the dog, 'me' will defend its pain with anger and further threats (more fear).
In fact there is no MY LIFE. You and I don't own shit, least of all our life. This does not mean that god or the holy mary own it. It means that nobody owns it. Life is Life. It is not yours. You are simply part of it.
We are stupid, in fact, because we refuse to live, act, feel, and think as beings that are Part of Life. Poor 'little me' exists in a limbo of self-interest, a dream in which it is impossible to see beyond the illusion of separateness.
There is no 'me'. There is only IT, Life, the ocean in which we twist and turn, and perhaps find our way by growing out of 'me'...
This 'little me' is the point where the metaphor of the carrot and the donkey meet. No offence was ever intended to these beautiful beings. In fact the way they are used in the album Diski Għall-Ħmir is very much tied to a 'cultural judgement' of the donkey as an animal we quite comfortably strip of dignity. The carrot is the 'little me', the illusion of separateness. And to think that I took so much trouble to create an entire album about nothing!!
The donkey is us, following that illusion, acting as power-sources for a very, very sick system. This very sick systematic thing we call 'The System', can be healed. It's sickness is called 'me'.
ME is the noise of the construction industry digging into the nerves of locked-up families for weeks on end, six or seven hours a day. ME is the vehement accusation on social media directed towards people who simply go for a walk on the beach. ME is the sickness of a system that forces us, for political reasons, to send back human beings who braved the seas in the hope of a better life, to a prison/death-trap they risked their lives to leave behind. ME is the motorcyclist who scares the shit out of a baby in a car when he rages by at 170km/hr on the coast-road. ME is the reason why hand sanitizers are more expensive during a time in which they should be given for free in controlled amounts. ME is why wars are fought instead of ended. ME is why poverty exists. ME is why information rarely results in wisdom. ME is why we abuse each other, and why most of our children grow up without ever having experienced true love.
ME is what comes out of false love, and the world we now live in contains all the proof you'll ever need to corroborate all of the above. Luckily, there are cracks in human stupidity through which a dazzling and beautiful light shines. But it is too rare. We have to hurry, or rather, stop wasting time.
Diski Għall-Ħmir is an invitation to live more authentic lives, an invitation to acknowledge our stupidity, and in so doing begin chopping it down, bit by bit. The 'me' is not a Maltese problem, and if we think about it in this way, it will only reinforce our false sense of identity. Identification does not care whether it is negative or positive, as long as it provides us with a false sense of security.
Diski Għall-Ħmir is also an invitation to take our shot at changing. The opportunity might not be there for long.
Wishing you true happiness.