City lost its soul

Amazonia ResisteTwo years ago my mate had just gotten married and signed on the dotted line to own where he slept. I met up with the usual high school foursome and he mentioned how he’d just connected his internet and bought a printer.

I love him and was proud of him and admired where his shit was going, but I privately reacted with something like disdain – for the world, not for him. Is connecting a printer and buying internet all there is to life? my head asked myself.

A few months later I talked about this with them. One has settled and has the business and the daughters, but could see a forest from trees. I told him that I don’t think this suburban shit is it. I said I should be having these thoughts as an 18-year old hippy, not a 33 year-old. He asked what else there was and I said I don’t know.

I kind of know; there is something graspable, a nebulous truth, if only we focus and ignore the razzamatazz. It’s there and I think it’s achievable.

But I got a job just after that and felt relief in a routine I could live with. In the days off I could justify just relaxing, and when you do that the day escapes you easily. If you have a job you can bear, that’s a sustainable way of living until your last breath, without regrets that you didn’t go for greatness because in modern society greatness may not exist. You’re doing well just to keep your kids alive.

But then I went to Bolivia and got the woman I’d always wanted but lost my insulating money and my easy routine. Life wasn’t comfortable anymore, and I’d lost that cosy feel that life could be.

In the last year before I left I wanted to write a novel based on the Mayan 2012, where the world ends (in Melbourne) but it hardly matters because we’re too surrounded by the modern world to notice or care. I think I can still do it, write something with an edgy feel that something is not quite right, something is slightly missing. I understand now, that’s the vibe of all my writing, and I’m blessed to have been given that.

Here’s something I scribbled in a small book I have. It’s about how modern life has lost its elders, its guides, its right path to take.



There are people who remember when the human race was different. Everything we needed could be gathered. If we needed help, our parents, all the people who came before us, had been instructed on the best ways and had no problem hanging with us and telling us the best ways too, keeping us in balance.

Now there is no one to help them, they didn’t know how to help us, and we don’t know how to help ours. They will walk around bereft, adrift, without ways, without a direction. Then the bad things will take over.

Over there are the mountains but we cut down the trees. We need music in our psyches, we need gentle physical love, but the direction was ignored and became too unimportant. So what took over was rough sex, between two people who didn’t know each other, and the music started singing about this, the conquering, invasive reggaeton beat that thrust its way into her body, and she was scared and groaned in pain. She had been tricked. There was nothing soft now.

The man walked away looking for another way to survive, beyond passing his seed against her will. He needed money but had nothing to get it. Except his wits. It was him against everyone else, against the world; but that was ok. He expected nothing. There would be drugs involved, and he would inflict violence on someone, and he would somehow survive. And the next day he would have to be on edge again, and earn, win, defeat someone for his survival again.

There were alcohol and drugs. Those who came before us knew that we needed to change our minds sometimes, to open and expand our mind to understand that the world has many unseen avenues and corners. But someone needed to be there to assure them that what they had seen was as real as their real lives, but that once back in the present they didn’t need to come down. The return could be sad and frightening but if there were stronger, kinder people around her or him to reassure him, there could be a return without consequences, that the human race was there to help each other and not compete with each other, and there was no fear, and there was death but the dead person just moved on to the next game, to the next experience.

Over there, they connected their computer but what was going to be produced from it? You could market marketing but something pure needed to be behind it all, something moving. A truth, some truth. But we forgot that truth. It was there but we didn’t have the time to feel it, because we created a struggle to survive when we could have just survived.

We were drowning in plastic bottles with harmful drink when we could have made both our bodies and our home – nature, our planet – a temple. And what was out there, on TV, the trivia feeding our minds was not nourishing it. Something was wrong, but we couldn’t put our finger on what it is.