“A handful of us determine what will be on the…news broadcasts, or for that matter, the [newspapers]… Indeed it is a handful of us with this awesome power…we must decide which news items, out of hundreds available, we are going to expose that day. And those [news stories] available to us already have been culled and re-culled by persons far outside our control.”
Recently I was blessed to discover Sona Jobarteh playing the Kora live with her band of equally talented musicians, I didn’t personally film until the very end of the concert because I wanted to be present. To give you an idea, I’ve taken this video that is much better quality from Youtube:
Not only did I feel the music incredibly profound, beautiful and emotional. The skills of all the musicians, the vibes, their humanity and their presence on the closing night in Toulouse were truly touching.
That’s why there’s been such a mainstream push on the incarceration of men for petty crimes in poor neighbourhoods over the years.
Byways of media manipulation, rather than doing anything to truly combat hatred and intolerance, the gender distortion colonises minds, headlines see crowds just blanket toxifying the strong, masculine males of our society over and over again without consideration for the person or individual acts.
Out and about, between waves of salt and snow, I heeded the call to let it all go.
Despite appearances, nothing comfortable, synthetic or artificial can ever actually fulfil us.
For it is amongst all the apparently uncivilised, savage and wild things that we can satiate our yearning. In that often unknown and uncomfortable space, that’s where we truly begin to learn to act with grace.
Please enjoy a rough poem, an untamed ode to our wild nature. An extension of gratitude to our cosmic mother from the undomesticated being within us. A reminder to reverence or a warning, an alarm that alerts you’ve possibly strayed too far, consider this a loving call to bring you back to all that you are,
Inspired by the art of strong women and the potent men gifted to us by them, forever dancing between two principles, finding that fine line of balance amongst all that is duality, working on the great sum of all paradox,
“Each day a few more lies eat into the seed with which we are born, little institutional lies from the print of newspapers, the shock waves of television, and the sentimental cheats of the movie screen.”
When the first lockdown hit it became increasingly clear that Sète, the touristic fishing town I lived in at the time, wasn’t where I desired to be and a plan was hatched to move on as soon as possible.
Between enforced limits on travel distances and nightly curfews, mask mandates and more lockdowns, and much introspective deliberation, a new adventure profiled itself, the parameters? Somewhere more rural, less populated, yet still within a 30-minute drive to the madness of the coast, a new coastline where scuba diving would be of more interest and the possibility to nip to Spain incredibly convenient.
Looking for some fucks to give in front of my latest challenges…
As the world that I grew up in becomes a stranger place full of “innovative ideas and technological progress”, where daily developments that pollute and destroy our natural resources are being marketed and veiled to “save” humanity from actually being true natural humans and doing any deep organic work on themselves, I feel myself gravitating, or being expulsed, towards another reality, one with fewer QR codes, nanotech, AI and robots.