The political landscape of the UK has changed, possibly irreversibly. (Much depends now on what the Scots choose to do about the situation). Already a violent xenophobia – in part the result of years of government by and for the wealthy and in part unleashed by the ‘Leave’ campaign – has resulted in an increase in racist abuse and violence on the streets of Britain.
So what’s to do? As someone with depressive tendencies, I have to avoid being drawn any further into anger and despair, which in turn always take me to a place of helplessness. None of which is going to help the situation.
I’m currently in Dublin waiting for a lift – I’m on my way to a conference on place, praxis and governance in Galway – and have spent the morning reading Tom Cheetham’s Imaginal Love: The Meaning of Imagination in Henry Corbin and James Hillman (Spring Publications, 1915). It is the perfect antidote to the emotional pull into my habitual response to the increasingly uncertain state in which we find ourselves.
As always, it’s simply a question of continuing to do what I know I need to and can do, only better, more attentively, more openly. Without fear – other than the fear that’s useful – and with as much openness of heart as I can muster. Guitar’s mic-politics if you like, or Hillman’s notitia, it really doesn’t matter what we call it.