I sometimes wonder, with all the worlds injustices spilling out from our daily papers, how privileged ordinary folk such as myself can best utilize this information?
The crisis/s in the middle east, Syria, Africa to name but a few, and not least today´s headlines reporting that it´s now been seventy years since the deportation and murder of millions of Jews.
In the case of the latter I am reminded of the plight of my mother and grandmother, whom as Jersey Channel islanders were deported to Germany in the autumn of 1942. Indigenous Channel islanders were not summoned for deportation, but seeing as my grandmother had married an Englishman (my mothers father) it was enough to qualify my maternal seniors for three years internment.
I remember feeling a kind of asphyxiating sensation in my throat on hearing my grandmother recollect her three day Biberach bound journey, nursing her nine month old baby (my mother) on her lap.
I have seen the ancient letters my grandmother wrote from the internment camp to her family back on Jersey, asking for them to send powdered milk and clothes. I can empathize, but I cannot imagine for a second what it must have been like. Strange also to think that in the face of this immense hardship, they were in fact the lucky ones.
I think about how little it takes to be happy, and little it is. Happiness appears to be hard for us to obtain, and by “us” I mean, us privileged, ordinary folk who actually have all we need, but who seem to fall victim to luxury syndromes that apparently society causes?
Perhaps it is wrong of me to compare the human state of emergency to the human state of non-appreciation (in other words the state that´s called “society is wrongful and bad and I and my afflictions are the results of it!”). Am I wrong to suggest that if we became more grateful of our circumstances, we may accidentally stumble onto the outside of that cosy little “me me me” prison?
I don´t think it is possible for us to really put ourselves in the shoes of a displaced, war-ravaged family, nor do I think that there would be any point. The point I believe lies in the message I´m trying to convey from my humble little pocket of privileged peace, entitled “hardcore appreciation”. I believe, that this is what we owe those who suffer. We can use this information to remember our own divinity, stand up to that impersonal machine called society, stop the f**k complaining, and be appreciative of all that we have… everyday!
Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.