It's been a while since I posted something here. No, I'm not at all worried because of the lack of comments. This blog is mainly to share with friends thoughts popping up into my head when I'm alone. In those moments I read documents and texts, while hour after hour the background music on the radio is interrupted to remind in five minutes all listeners about the major crimes of the world. The short texts are often links between what the world seems to tell me and my own Utopia.
Yesterday I was interpellated: It's been a while that…
Correct. Since the last text, my grandchildren have kept me busy full-time, alone or all three together. And a pépé has his priorities. Together we left the city for a few days. We were able to hear the tranquility of the countryside in a small inland village during the day, disappearing every evening into the sound of the ongoing annual village festivals.
We played with soil and water, we took walks, we looked at plants and animals together, we tasted all the available fruits from the house's orchard.
We were far away from the world announced to us. That world of arrogant rulers and war industrials who massively want to donate all old planes and war material to those who destroy the peace of houses and orchards with their war howls, places where not so long ago children walked around with their grandparents without great preoccupation.
Donating planes and rockets seems to me to be reminiscent of donating old computers by banks to schools for the poor. I have often experienced this practice as a teacher. Banks want to invest in new equipment and the cheapest way to get rid of old electronics is to donate them. Apparently, a number of European leaders used to work for banks and others gained experience in begging for dilapidated material to provide their own institutions with some furniture. Recipients can find out for themselves what still works and what doesn't. Donors can order new material without hesitation. All in all, this first quarter of the twenty-first century is a golden opportunity for those who make it their life's work to destroy the lives of others or to enrich themselves by producing destructive material.
In the meantime, here and there, grandparents, parents and educators continue to bring children together to gather fruit in community, make real and pretend meals together and express big and small dreams while playing.
Can dialogue and play be mightier than the sword? There's who says it can. I hope with them, thinking of my and all grandchildren who will have to take over this world one day.
Yesterday I was interpellated: It's been a while that…
Correct. Since the last text, my grandchildren have kept me busy full-time, alone or all three together. And a pépé has his priorities. Together we left the city for a few days. We were able to hear the tranquility of the countryside in a small inland village during the day, disappearing every evening into the sound of the ongoing annual village festivals.
We played with soil and water, we took walks, we looked at plants and animals together, we tasted all the available fruits from the house's orchard.
We were far away from the world announced to us. That world of arrogant rulers and war industrials who massively want to donate all old planes and war material to those who destroy the peace of houses and orchards with their war howls, places where not so long ago children walked around with their grandparents without great preoccupation.
Donating planes and rockets seems to me to be reminiscent of donating old computers by banks to schools for the poor. I have often experienced this practice as a teacher. Banks want to invest in new equipment and the cheapest way to get rid of old electronics is to donate them. Apparently, a number of European leaders used to work for banks and others gained experience in begging for dilapidated material to provide their own institutions with some furniture. Recipients can find out for themselves what still works and what doesn't. Donors can order new material without hesitation. All in all, this first quarter of the twenty-first century is a golden opportunity for those who make it their life's work to destroy the lives of others or to enrich themselves by producing destructive material.
In the meantime, here and there, grandparents, parents and educators continue to bring children together to gather fruit in community, make real and pretend meals together and express big and small dreams while playing.
Can dialogue and play be mightier than the sword? There's who says it can. I hope with them, thinking of my and all grandchildren who will have to take over this world one day.