New Variant?

 

Despite what some people think about me (my once-closest friend included) - I'm not a vaccine Nazi. I respect free choice and I understand vaccine hesitancy - from a medical, not a conspiracy theory perspective. 

But this virus seems hell bent on reducing our presence on the planet. The longer a virus hangs around, the more chance it has to mutate. The new C1.2. variant is possibly more infectious and mutates twice as fast. It has now mutated a fair way from the original Wuhan variant.

So it isn't a matter of individual choice - those of us who are vaccinated may still be in a precarious position. I for one am pretty unhappy about that because I have tried to do the right thing and other people are still putting me at risk. 

Tinkering at the edges will only get more of us killed or with long term health issues. Whilst that might be a good thing for the planet, none of us want it to be us, or our families and friends that succumb. 

It always seemed inevitable to me that our insistence on exercising our democratic right to choice would be our undoing.

Source: Eric Feigi-Ding on Twitter, Epidemiologist & health economist. Senior Fellow, @FAScientists. Former 16 yrs, @Harvard. @JohnsHopkinsalum. Health & social justice. COVID updates since Jan’20

Fully Vaxxed

 

For better or worse, I'm fully vaxxed - at least for 8 months when I guess I'll need a booster. Despite the cartoon, I'm not really smug about it either. I've said it before - I made what I thought was the best of a bad choice. 

I posted this on Facebook too. I considered not doing it because I know it will be a trigger for some people and I may lose more friends over it, but I think it's important to keep a sense of humour - even if 200 people a day are dying of COVID in Florida. It's not funny that people are dying, it's not even funny that many have chosen to go the way of conspiracy theories. I'm just sick of treading on eggshells. And I'm also sick of feeling as though I should apologise for the choice I have made. Like I've sold out or something. ME! The quintessential rebel.

I still have my doubts about the vaccine and I'm certainly not a sheep that follows meekly behind the flock. I also have a real distrust of medicine, science and the government. We don't really know what the long term consequences of this vaccine are and I have taken a leap of faith in getting it. So much about life is unknown but in reality - it always was. 

28 Minutes

I've got my writing mojo back and since sending the latest draft of the first article to get more feedback, I've moved onto the second. I hope the institute still want it but if they don't, nothing lost. I think it's good to rewrite the second while the first is still fresh in my mind.

I've posted this before and Sarah Toa may remember it because we both knew Melusina*. I'm posting it again because I hope this time it will be published. I had to remove it from my thesis but I think it should have been included. At some point though you just need to stop because you have enough words and your supervisor tells you to!

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

I hardly knew her - an artist - like me. In death she looms larger than she ever did in life. The manner of her dying tragic, poetic - terrifying. Drowned in the deep wild cauldron of blue-black sea. 

I couldn’t go to The Gap for months after her suicide. When I finally gazed into the beckoning throat I saw her struggling there, the cast shadow of her desperation wavering in my own.

She had tried many times to end her life. This time the slab-stone sentinel guarded the way out - the arms of the deep chasm held her. Cruel Mother-sea swallowed her soul - silently, whole. Into the Void.

The story unfolded in disembodied anecdotes. An image formed, imprinted itself savagely on my mind - and never left. She had woven, hurried, between the ubiquitous tourists, threatening to knock them down in her drugged and drunken haste, staggered with grim resolve towards the gaping wound in the granite. No one saw her step off the edge of the world, but they peered into the abyss to see where she had gone.

And they saw her trying to swim.

Jesus.

She swam for 28 exhausting minutes in the gently heaving maelstrom - from the time the call went out, until, only just too late, someone leaned from the rescue boat to grasp a handful of long red-floating locks, already turned to soft brown seaweed.

Perhaps her movements were just residual shreds of instinct, that she hadn’t really changed her mind. I imagine how she felt and what she saw: the hole of the sky framed by sheer black towering granite, white limbs darting like silver fish over the abyss.

Melusina still swims in the dark sea of my unconscious.

Image: Author. Oil on board. Study.

*Melusina is a pseudonym for an artist I knew who 'apparently' suicided at The Gap. I have not sought permission to use her real name, preferring instead to protect her identity. In one version of a German myth Melusina is a creature, half fish and half human. http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/melusina.html

What Does it Mean to Get Published?

Study 5-4, (2011). Digital print from mixed media painting, 22.0 cm x 21.29 cm.

A week ago I received another email from the executive director of the CG Jung Institute of LA saying:

'We were planning on publishing your article at the end of 2021, which means that we would need the final manuscript in September. Do you think it would work? Please let me know. It’s such a special dissertation that I would like to encourage you to publish it with us'.

Eeeek!!! In the midst of juggling too many things this had completely slipped off my radar. Once again I was surprised at the interest. Anyone who has dared to step into the murky depths of my thesis will understand why. It's such an obscure topic - an intense and uncomfortable tale of a personal journey into the depths of depression and the Jungian unconscious. I never expected anyone apart from my supervisor and the examiners to read it. But here I am in the midst of apocalyptic times - a pandemic that won't go away, fires and floods and more global chaos than usual - being asked to focus on a self-indulgent piece of research that even my supervisor cautioned was in danger of descending into solipsism*.

With a head completely befuddled by the flu I'm still struggling to appreciate that being published might be an excellent thing. I'm not a career academic. I fell into it by default. It was the inevitable destination for someone with an obsession to find the very core of their own psyche. I tried Googling: what does it mean to get an article published?' but that didn't help.

Writing an article is quite different to writing a thesis. I've never written an article. Initially the executive thought his organisation could publish my thesis in sections to save me rewriting. He seems to want to publish the whole thing and that is a massive job, but he needs it in readable chunks for the journal. Having divided it into 4 chunks it is clear it will need a bit more rearranging than that - and some abstracts, bios and summary/linking paragraphs. I'm well into that process and it's having some side effects.

Revisiting the trauma that motivated me to do the thesis in the first place, going back into the process and revisiting the images I created as part of the research, is like experiencing PTS. But there is an up side. At what might be a critical time in our lives on a dying planet I am reminded that life isn't just material. This is important because in the face of physical annihilation it is possible the essence of our existence will live on - somewhere, somehow.

* The view or theory that the self is all that can be known to exist. The quality of being self-centred or selfish.

Image: Author, original artwork.

The New (Ab)Normal

Where do I start?

I've got some crazy sinus-head cold driving me a bit mad. Colds and flus have been very weird over the past decade. I get bugs that last for months and never quite leave. This one was bad enough to forego a day's pay (which I can't afford) - the joys of being a casual. I might have pushed through but I also cracked a back molar and as good as Paracetamol is, I decided I was allowed to be self-indulgent, stay home and do nothing - or not much anyway.

I'm probably just exhausted. I get sick when I'm exhausted.

Our FaBWA group now has 2000 members but those leading the charge number about 5 - with one or two floating in and out from the 30 strong committee. As always only a few people end up doing the work in community groups. I'm a 'doer' so I usually stay away from them. I'm sick, our group convenor is sick and our new co-ordinator has just recovered from a terrible cold. Tomorrow we will spend our Sunday in a strategy group workshop to get some clarity on our priorities and what we should be doing next. 

The virus is wearing us all down. It's possibly the one thing uniting the world right now. That and climate change. In this fearful new normal I worry for the collective mental health of the nation, of the world. This is only the beginning. Things are going to get a lot crazier. 

I'm reminded of the John Clease routine in Fawlty Towers in which he is entertaining German guests in his little English guesthouse and tries ever so hard not to mention the war. Whatever you do - DON'T MENTION THE WAR. Of course he does - time and time again.

It's a bit like that with 'the vaccine'. I want to but I'm nervous about asking/talking to people about it because it is such a touchy subject and I don't know who I am talking to. Like climate change it has become a divisive issue. I have basically lost my closest friend over it. We simply can't talk to each other at the moment and I'm not sure we will ever be able to. As a traditional Catholic the potential for foetal cells in the vaccine was the starting point for her. She even lost respect for her own Pope because he was advising people to get it. Since then my friend has been tunneling down YouTube and SkyNews worm holes populated with right-wing conspirators, Qanon and anti-vaxxers. I just can't get through to her and I will now stop trying.

And don't mention climate change either. This is our old surf club. There is a new one behind this one but it is also at risk if the cold fronts keep coming through. It must be obvious even to the deniers that the seas really are rising. Over the past couple of years we have basically lost the only accessible family safe surf beach in town. I don't know what the surf club will do this season - so many kids have joined up because the town has grown rapidly in the past couple of years.

Recent extreme weather events in many parts of the world have probably tipped a lot of doubters over the edge of believability so convincing them may not be the problem any more. The problem is - what are we going to do? What can we do? We all feel so helpless. I went into work the day after the IPCC report came out. I went into the office and looked at my colleages and said: 'did you see the report?' They looked at me with a bereft shared knowing. 

It's official. We're fucked.

I said to my colleague, who is the same age as me: 'you know I was hoping I would be long gone before this climate thing really kicked off'. She said she was hoping the same thing. It was obvious to both of us we weren't going to escape the fires of hell now.

The obvious next question is: 'how do we live out the rest of our lives?' I honestly don't know. But I do think this is a time in which we are being forced to 'nail our colours to the mast'. I guess I'm one of those people who can't sit passively by and let things fall apart - regardless of how hopeless it looks. I try not to be mad at those who have given in, given up and choose to party out the rest of their existence. Many aren't in a position to do anything, and many are doing what they can - which is all you can ask.

For me 'doing something' means easing pain where I can and trying to protect what we have left. And trying to enjoy what we have left - which means riding the old rail trails and bike paths on my new e-bike. It also means helping others when I can - like creating graphics for free to help our group - like the leaves and the quokka above - but also for other groups like the one below.

These people are trying to do something and where I can support them I will. I guess the antidote to death and destruction is creativity and I've been working overtime on that lately.

Photos and original digital graphics by author.