mudclots I swallowed, in the tower,language, dark pilaster strip,kumiori.
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“A capitalist economy requires constant imperialist wars because it has to constantly suppress prices and wages and reorganize production in the global south around accumulation in the core. That is ultimately the system that we have to overcome.” Jason Hickel, who won our hearts a while back by accepting MMT, talks with Steve about the burning issue of our time. (No, not the US election, though they touch on the electoral system.) As much as Gaza is dominating social media, we must continue to stress its place in the capital order. Jason points us to Israel’s true role: sowing chaos and instability in the region. The conversation covers the historical and ongoing imperialistic strategies of the U.S. and its reactions to the mid-century liberation movements of the Global South, placing US support for Israel’s actions as part of a broader capitalist agenda to maintain control over the world’s resources and labor markets. Jason looks at China’s domestic successes and how they have led to the US virtually declaring war. He also touches on recent news about BRICS.
14 November 2024
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Penang Textile Screen Printing House.
Bangkok, Thailand.
© Roberto Conte (2024)
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When you are full of problems, there is no room for anything new to enter, no room for a solution.
So whenever you can, make some room, create some space, so that you find the life underneath your life situation.
Use your senses fully. Be where you are. Look around. Just look, don’t interpret. See the light, shapes, colors, textures. Be aware of the silent presence of each thing. Be aware of the space that allows everything to be.
Listen to the sounds; don’t judge them. Listen to the silence underneath the sounds. Touch something — anything — and feel and acknowledge its Being. Observe the rhythm of your breathing; feel the air flowing in and out, feel the life energy inside your body.
Allow everything to be, within and without. Allow the “isness” of all things. Move deeply into the Now.
You are leaving behind the deadening world of mental abstraction, of time. You are getting out of the insane mind that is draining you of life energy, just as it is slowly poisoning and destroying the Earth.
You are awakening out of the dream of time into the present.
— Eckhart Tolle
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For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow. Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail. A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live. When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. . . . Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all. A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother. So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.
– Hermann Hesse
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Another thing I love: a rotunda, and even more so: a concrete rotunda. This is the Salvation Army church in Romford.
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Trying to explain what the fuck just happened in Lankan politics today.
The leftist party has won 159 seats out of 218 in the Parliamentary elections. The single biggest landslide win since we broke from the British and achieved universal franchise in 1948.
Any party achieving a super majority in the executive and legislative is, objectively speaking, bad. It disables checks and balances, which is a catastrophic thing for any democracy, and the only two other times it's happened for us has irrevocably eroded the fabric of civic rights and democratic freedom. Also, the reason the NPP won the North and East is that the colonized, genocided and subjugated people there have no faith in electoralism anymore. The way this government has engaged minority issues has been utterly abysmal and now they've been rewarded for it.
On the other hand:
The winners. Are all. Grassroots. Candidates.
We have voted out every single career criminal that's been barnacled into the Lankan political arena since before I've been alive. The fascist party has only three seats. The other fascists didn't win a single seat. The neoliberal legacy party won none. There are only forty people in Parliament that represent any sort of dynastic political legacy. After 76 solid years of nothing but political dynasties.
This is barely five years after the Rajapaksas swept in and absolutely glutted the Parliament with their family members and cronies end to end.
This is the illegitimate interim government we had for most of the last 18 months. We literally, physically, chased the Rajapaksas out of the country and this fucking demon set up a puppet government just so he could finally sit in that goddamn chair and be the despot he'd always dreamed of in exchange for letting them all come back. He's now gone. His entire circle is gone.
THEY ARE ALL FUCKING GONE.
In US terms, just imagine the entire GOP and the worst of the Dems destroyed and purged from Congress and Senate, the Green Party in control of all three branches of government, an unmarried abortion rights activist Vice President, and the Dems reduced to barely 20% of the House. Five years from now, when Trump's GOP has control of everything.
This is my anthropology professor. She joined politics from the small nascent leftist coalition to help keep the government accountable. She's now the Prime Minister and the most popular Parliamentary candidate in the nation's history.
On the other hand— the woman who helped make me a radical anarchist and literally helped write a book on political dissent and resistance...now is the state.
But there are so many women in Parliament! We had the lowest female representation in a South Asian Parliament and some of them were from the list of seats reserved for parties rather than elected ones. Most were either anti-feminist conservative embarrassments, widows and daughters of elite politicians and neoliberal shills. It's still only an increase of a few percentage points but now we have elected academics, feminist advocates, activists! THERE IS A REPRESENTATIVE FOR MALAIYAHA TAMILS IN THE CENTRAL PROVINCE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HISTORY AND IT'S A YOUNG WOMAN! This is the plantation community that still live in conditions closest to the slavery the British forced upon them two hundred years ago!
I'm like. Completely mindfucked. To be very very clear, these people are not Marxists or anything near; they're mild social democrats who would only be threatening to like, USAmerican liberals, who are now center-right. The actual chances for radical reform are still quite low, and the opportunity for further erosion is extremely high.
On the other hand:
What the fuck.
Sometimes living through historical events is really damn amazing.
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In us, there is the pure part and the dirty part. It is the dirty part, the self-deluded miserable being who gets fed up with the constant flux of pain and pleasure and begins to seek a way out, begins to seek for a relief. Then the dirty part finds some prayers and practices and starts using them. This is effort, one of the two needed foundations. Through effort arrives grace. Grace of who or what? Grace of the pure part which is already in us. It just gets revealed to ourselves, it doesn’t come from the outside. It is divine and pure, and Godly in the most comprehensive sense but it is necessary to understand this from the selfless nondual point of view rather than thinking that the grace or kripa arrives from some external god or power. No, the God, thee* Almighty God is not only already in us but is our very own mind and spirit. It is the pure part. Its immaculate purity, grace and power which is immense is revealed to us through aligning our views, values and actions with its qualities. When the alignment with the pure is complete and the petty selfish limited deluded and negative habits of the dirty part are gone, then only the pure remains. This is how enlightened masters - mahasiddhas and avataras - exist. When an ordinary human looks at a pure being it is like looking into a different dimension. It is as if the physical figure of that pure God-unified being is both the Sun and a black hole, a source of light and absence of light at the same time.
– Amrita Baba
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Love has never been a popular movement. And no one's ever wanted, really, to be free. The world is held together, really it is held together, by the love and the passion of a very few people. Otherwise, of course, you can despair. Walk down the street of any city, any afternoon, and look around you. What you've got to remember is what you're looking at is also you. Everyone you're looking at is also you. You could be that person. You could be that monster, you could be that cop. And you have to decide, in yourself, not to be.
– James Baldwin
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i have no patience for people talking about violent rhetoric on the left really because every day i read the news and every politician in this country and in most others is saying 'we gotta kill more people'. they use different words to say it. obviously you're not supposed to just say 'we gotta kill more people'. but there's all kinds of polite and okay ways to say it.
'we need to control our borders' is a phrase which here means 'we gotta kill more people, we gotta drown more refugees in boats, we gotta send more people back to warzones and governments that want them dead, we gotta make more camps and we gotta make the camps more fatal'.
'we need to be tougher on welfare fraud' is a phrase which here means 'we gotta kill more people, we gotta make disabled people do more song and dance routines to convince some indifferent bureaucrat that they deserve to eat and we gotta make sure that the bureaucrats say 'no', we gotta starve those kids more, we gotta make sure families and kids and old people are freezing in the winter'.
'we need to tackle violent crime' is a phrase which here means 'we gotta kill more people, specifically Black people, unless we said Terrorism instead of Crime, in which case it's specifically muslims, shoot them, imprison them, surveil them, disappear them, brutalize them, whatever.'
and of course none of this is Violent Speech. this is Sensible Political Discourse. these are Common-Sense Policy Goals. we gotta kill more people: that's an electable policy. you can always count on we gotta kill more people as a platform. we gotta kill more people is gonna sweep the nation baby. we gotta kill more people 2024 -- vote now on your phones. now slow down. hold your horses. did that guy just say we gotta kill more people? well that just wont do. thats why im running on a platform of we gotta kill more people for cheaper, to stop this wasteful madness. and the people just keep dying but seems like there's still some of them left so i guess we're just circling back around to our main thing which is: we gotta kill more people
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A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in The mind was built for mighty Freight For dread occasion planned How often foundering at Sea Ostensibly, on Land A not admitting of the wound Until it grew so wide That all my Life had entered it And there were troughs beside A closing of the simple lid That opened to the sun Until the tender Carpenter Perpetual nail it down—
--Emily Dickinson
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"A successful campaign draws on the material of the existing society and assembles it into a portrait of the present and a vision of the future: it does not simply reflect frozen facts of public opinion and common sense but reorganizes them and ultimately produces new forms. Racism and misogyny have intensified notably in recent years due to Trump’s own prodigious talents in this area.
...At each juncture, the Democrats have attempted restoration: to manage the crisis, carry out the bailout, stitch things back together, and try to get back to normal. It is the form of this orientation, as much as substantive questions of culture, race, and gender, that seems to me the fundamental reason the Democrats are often experienced as a force of inhibition rather than empowerment by so many voters. And it is against this politics of containment that Trump’s obscenity comes to feel like a liberation for so many.
Although on the surface MAGA is nostalgic, Trump’s movement has been immensely historically generative: creating new modes of political expression, opening new arenas of policymaking: mass deportation, anti-trans assaults, vaccine skepticism. This is why it is so destructive. On the contrary, it is the Democratic leadership that is engaged in a backward-looking project. Only through restorationism can the party balance its competing commitments to social and economic justice and capitalist growth. It seeks to recapture a lost past in which these goals accommodated each other, and it suppresses any positive vision of the future that might require deciding internal tensions."
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I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night. Accurate scholarship can Unearth the whole offence From Luther until now That has driven a culture mad, Find what occurred at Linz, What huge imago made A psychopathic god: I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return. Exiled Thucydides knew All that a speech can say About Democracy, And what dictators do, The elderly rubbish they talk To an apathetic grave; Analysed all in his book, The enlightenment driven away, The habit-forming pain, Mismanagement and grief: We must suffer them all again. Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse: But who can live for long In an euphoric dream; Out of the mirror they stare, Imperialism's face And the international wrong. Faces along the bar Cling to their average day: The lights must never go out, The music must always play, All the conventions conspire To make this fort assume The furniture of home; Lest we should see where we are, Lost in a haunted wood, Children afraid of the night Who have never been happy or good. The windiest militant trash Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish: What mad Nijinsky wrote About Diaghilev Is true of the normal heart; For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone. From the conservative dark Into the ethical life The dense commuters come, Repeating their morning vow; "I will be true to the wife, I'll concentrate more on my work," And helpless governors wake To resume their compulsory game: Who can release them now, Who can reach the deaf, Who can speak for the dumb? All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die. Defenceless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair Show an affirming flame.
– W. H. Auden, "September 1, 1939"
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