Collective Helplessness.

The problem with the local news is that it tells a disempowering story.  One where we are always the victim.  We, the local people, should feel scared, terrified, disgusted.  These atrocities are happening in our neighbourhood, in our streets, in our neighbour’s house.  And there is nothing we can do.  Just be on the lookout, be wary, be cautious.

It is true that these things are happening, yes.  But why do we need to know?  So that we can continue to be paralysed by fear and so that fear can be used again to hook us in to the cycle of fear.  Watch again to see if they’ve caught the killer.  Watch again to get the ratings up.  Watch again so that the billionaire at the top can take his yacht out in Cannes this afternoon.  If the purpose is to inform us, then there are many ways to get a suspects face out into the public; social media being the more obvious place in modern society.

But the sharing of crime and negative stories are not part of a bigger solution.  By sitting in the comfort of our homes and watching this daily droll, we are indirectly supporting the cycle of continuity.  If we were really appalled by these people, these behaviours, this constant stream of assault and death and horror; then wouldn’t it be more beneficial to support the circuit breakers?

Let me explain.

  1. Mr Smith kills Mr Jones – random attack, assailants not known to each other, Mr Smith has a history of mental illness and violence, and is known to police.
  2. Media goes wild.  The attack happened in an affluent area, neighbours remark that they thought this was a “safe place to raise children”, a shot of a nice car driving down a nice street pans away.
  3. We, the public, watch this and immediately react either consciously or subconsciously.  Our mind, hearing upon the threat of death races into fight or flight mode.
  4. We take a sub-second check of all the things that mean something to us; our family, our partner, our friends, our safe neighbourhood.
  5. Then we react, rightfully so – fear, disgust, sadness, anger, hopelessness.  Another morning or evening news session and another reason for our body to recoil into an unhealthy stress response and cement our victim mentality.

We feel sick, or worst of all, we feel nothing.  We are used to seeing this on the screen.  It’s a daily story that is the same but usually the characters and the location change a little.  We are educating ourselves by watching.  We are being presented information that we did not previously have, right?  – “News”.

But what is “news” if it is only telling 0.1% of the story.  Not lies but not complete pictures either.  I mean, last night, one person was murdered in my city.  Actually horrific, terrifying, and scary. Uncomfortable to think about.  But what about the 5 million that didn’t murder last night?  What about the 5 million people that cooked an average meal, watched some shitty reality tv show, spent more time checking their emails and social media than talking to their spouse and then went to bed; tossing and turning for a good 45 minutes before waking up before their alarm went off to the dog barking?  What about those stories.

Well, they’re boring, aren’t they.  They don’t serve to inform of us any impending danger or give us any new information or entice a certain heightened response from us.  But these stories are important.  Because we have forgotten them.  We have forgotten that the majority of the stories not being told are overwhelmingly positive.  That the majority of us are surviving and thriving and cooperating with each other as best we can.  Not only does this story need to be told, it needs to be celebrated.

5 million people went about their business today without punching one person in the face.  50,0000 of those crazy fuckers even held a door open for someone.  2 million gave way to another car in a merging lane (still another million who haven’t quite grasped the concept but we are not perfect).  3.5 million walked in to their houses last night and received a hug or kiss within the first five minutes of arrival.  This mass wave of connection, kindness and contact occurring between the hours of 6:00pm and 7:00pm sent a huge burst of positive energy into the world and should be applauded.

But instead we focus on the 0.1% who chose not to choose kindness.  We give them air time and our energy.  Which would be ok if that was energy towards a proactive response. But instead it steals a piece of our most precious asset, time, and takes with it the recoil of joy.  Our victim mindsets are cemented and our learned helplessness continues.  What if we saw this story of Mr Smith and Mr Jones and got to choose one of the following responses:

  1. Press A – to donate money to this relevant local health service
  2. Press B – to encourage your local politician to put more of government spending towards mental health and police services
  3. Press C – to support your community in one of the following areas of early intervention; domestic violence prevention, increased education opportunities
  4. Press D – to educate yourself further on the scientific findings of this mental illness and what the prime causes such as a neglected childhood really do to people
  5. Press E – to feel worried about your own safety but not worried enough to do any of the above

Or you can Press F.  You can vote with your button.  You can turn off this skewed bullshit and you can stop lining the pockets of the people who do not care about your welfare, or your safety, or the safety of your children.  You the individual garner more power than you know, more power than the billionaires and the government, and the media.  But your power is magnified significantly if you use it as a collective.  There are millions of you and together you must remember that the future is hope not death and misery.  But only if you unplug from the negative vomit being spewed into your minds.

If you really want to know what’s happening next door, look out your window.  If you really want to know what happens in your neighbourhood, look at the statistics.  If you really want to know what is happening to your fellow humans on the other side of the world, look outside your mainstream channels.  Search, seek, hunt for the truth.  And then – do something.  If you believe that what is happening is atrocious, as it often is, make the decision to become part of the solution.  As we take our place as the innocent bystander, we stand as much with the perpetrators as we do the victim.

Change is uncomfortable and it takes effort.  Despite this, we all must choose one option.  So, if you are unable to press A, B, C or D – then at least press F and spend your energy with that beautiful, average, law abiding majority this evening.

Here’s some “serious news” to give you encouragement, Zig x

Childlike Wonder

I have been thinking a lot lately about childlike wonder.  Not so much its occurrence in the young but more so its absence in the old…er.

To me, childlike wonder encompasses so many wonderful things.  It is first and foremost an insatiable curiosity and interest.  It is expressed in questions and found down rabbit-holes.  It does not care for your preconceptions nor expectations.  Childlike wonder quite often sets its own rules yet surprisingly, never blurs its boundaries into hurt or pain.  For childlike wonder is born out of love and purity.  It is honest and creative,  allowing itself to be expressed in both rainbows and rainclouds.  It does not pretend to be pretty yet it is not afraid to be pretty either.

My childhood wonder had unbelievable artistic merit.  It scribbled and painted, and got messy often.  It wore things in the wrong order in the wrong sizes in the wrong patterns; it was a trend forecaster.  It asked a lot of questions, read a lot of books and at times; made lots of silly jokes.  My childhood wonder was a performer but it did not always perform.  It would sing and dance and pull faces.  It would burp out loud and laugh hysterically for minutes after.  My childhood wonder was hilarious.  And confident.  And stupidly happy.

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So where the fuck did it go?

Did I lose it in the sleepy coma that was my middle teens?  Did I lend it to a friend drunkenly at some party and forget to get it back?  Did it slowly seep away from me over the course of 20 years when I stopped making time for it and acknowledging its presence?  I mean, that’s where yours went right?  It got left in our former chapters prior to corporate jobs and mortgages and parenthood planning?

The process has been so long and unconscious that mostly I think, we do not realise it.  I mean, every three months we fill in half a page in a colouring in book – so we must still have it, right?  Or last year, when we spent six months on that project at work coming up with the next “big thing” – I mean, that was pretty spontaneous?  No matter that we were beaten to market twice, we were just unlucky.  Or how about the other day when we spent a whole 20 minutes making things out of dough with the kids….a whole 20 minutes!!

We often try to reach into this mythical bag of ‘wonder’ as adults for more often than not, we find the bag is empty.  Or it is hard to find in our busy schedule.  Or perhaps we have just put it down for a while but we have every intention of picking it up tomorrow, or the next day, or just once this busy period at work is over.

But in doing so, in not finding or utilising our Wonder – we miss out.

We miss out on the messiness and the joy and the fulfillment that our Wonder brings us.  We miss out of the effects of our Wonder’s flow, how it seems to make time stop altogether.  Wonder is immersive and welcoming.  Wonder doesn’t worry about deadlines or schedules.  It doesn’t care if you’ve done your make up or had a shave that day.  Wonder is accepting and all-consuming, and Wonder really hopes you wear your gumboots or neon tutu or whatever the heck else you want to wear that day.  Because Wonder doesn’t care for material things.  Wonder just wants you to be happy in whatever sparkly outfit allows you and your Wonder to function best in.

I haven’t made any hard or fast goals for 2017 (yet) but I have made a conscious commitment to bring more childlike wonder back into my life.  I want to be more creative, more ‘artsy’, I want to write more, I want to get messy, pick up a paintbrush and maybe wear some sparkly bits on my face one day.  I want to get lost in fun activities and I don’t want to feel guilty about spending time with my Wonder.  I don’t want to be thinking about emails or deadlines or to do lists or chores or tomorrow.  I want to get absorbed in the moments spent with my Wonder where time has no meaning and we ebb and flow through works that we love, or kinda love, or don’t love at all; a time where we don’t give up on each other.

Of course I am fearful.  My material brain fears time spent on things that don’t make money.  Not for indulgence but as a basic survival instinct.  But I must train my brain to see the intangible value offered in watercolour, or the connection that 1000 words may bring, or the personal fulfilment and satisfaction found in a completed creative project.  And who knows; maybe the two are not diametrically opposed.  Maybe in fully giving in to my childlike wonder and creativity, something entrepreneurial may be born.  Lord knows of the many that have gone before and the many that are still to join the industries of freedom and spirit and letting their Wonder’s loose.

I hope I have the courage to not second guess my Wonder.  For whilst my Wonder is a brave soul, I am not so.   Together, we will sail the high waters of expectation and judgement, and crash heavily through waves of instability and self doubt; finally surpassing the storms of social expectation and magnification.  Together, we will transition into the calmer waters of childlike wonder – where we will charter all obstacles together; arm in spaghetti-bracelet arm.  For we both know that when we arrive on the other side, there will be boundless amounts of purpose leaving us with nothing but feelings of overwhelming joy and fulfilment.

Love Ziggy + her Wonder  x