We are not our biology We are not our bodies We inhabit our bodies But…
Beck Finger Posts
Its New Year’s Eve. I’ve just returned from doing the grocery shopping. While wandering through Aldi, I’ve had Rage Against the Machine blasting through my earbuds… enjoying the bubble of space it provides from the hordes of humanity all trying to get a great deal on bananas…
And as I leave, Renegades comes on, and it seems apropos for New Year’s, so I thought I would collect my thoughts and share them…
So, Renegades goes like this:
Friends we are eggshells fragile, hard, brittle shells broken irreparably cracked but lovely ones i…
This is long. Grab a coffee.
In my mind’s eye, I had an image of a watering can being poured out on cracked, dry land: the water beads and runs away without nourishing the soil.
It can be really easy – I know it is for me – to feel that we – that I – pour ourselves out for the sake of others, only to have it make no real impact on the landscape. I recognise that this image is an incomplete metaphor in that it does not reflect the complete reality: people and circumstances change or grow in a myriad of unseen ways.
Nevertheless, the complexity of feeling poured out – exhausted, ineffective – remains.