"There are no characters in this story and almost no dramatic confrontations, because most of the people in it are so sick and so much the listless playthings of enormous forces. One of the main effects of war, after all, is that people are discouraged from being characters."
- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
Hello, friends. Welcome back to Amid Night Suns. I hope you all managed to shut out the sound
of drums off in the distance for a while and were able to have an enjoyable
Easter – or at the very least I hope you managed to steal a few essential bright
hours with your families and friends. I’ve
been thinking a lot recently about death and resurrection, as it’s just that
time of year. I recently lost my job and
my flat within the same week, so things have been rather chaotic for me. But, I feel like these personal changes are
the micro-expressions of larger macro-cyclical shifts. Timing, coincidence and synchronicity have
always been a rather stunning feature of my life. I’ve found that the best course of action is
usually to surf the wave of such interconnection to the best of my ability.
As anyone who pays close
attention to the kinds of themes and topics I explore with this blog will be well
aware, I have an interest in all things Gothic, hidden or suppressed. It’s not merely an aesthetic preference for
darker forms of art, because away from this blog my tastes are wide and
varied. But Amid Night Suns has a very
particular purpose. I have a mission
statement that I have never wavered from since I started this blog seven years
ago. Part of this mission is to uplift
and engage my peers and any passers-by who stumble upon this virtual space –
this little corner of radiant darkness illuminated by an ageless star. Nobody has to agree with or even like the
words I write here, or the video-editing projects I present. This blog is a personal art project, a
creative expression space. But it is
intended as far more than that. If I
could encapsulate the purpose of Amid Night Suns into one word, that word would
be service. For me, trying to be of
service to your friends and loved ones and people in general – without expectation
of reward or acknowledgement – is one of the highest callings that a human
being can undertake. I fail at this service
far too often, but I suppose that’s because my sights are set so high and like
many artists I am my own worst critic.
This blog doesn’t really have much going for it in the obvious
sense. I have less than a hundred people
who follow my work at Amid Night Suns, and probably only a handful of those
follow with any regularity. So why
bother? Because I believe service isn’t
just about the number of people that can be reached. It’s also about the strength and quality of
that service for the people who are within your sphere of influence. To engage or inspire or entertain someone
with thoughtful prose or a piece of art is nothing to be belittled or
ignored. In my own life there have been
many instances where the modest work of others –shared in a spirit of sincerity
and hope – has literally saved my life, or else lifted me up out of my lowest
points. These small victories of the
human soul and spirit are nothing to be sniffed at. Because it’s these small flickering lights across
lives and times that collectively shine as bright as the sun. No man or woman is an island, and no god or
spirit either. Context is inescapable,
and as such the seeking of nuance is filled with liberating potential.
It’s for this very reason
that the wickedest among us want the human race as contextually illiterate as
possible. It’s why the predator-elites
that seek dominion of our realm wish to make nuance and subtlety a kind of
anathema. Critical-thinking becomes fake
news, warmongering and hunting-parties become ‘liberations’. This kind of Orwellian manipulation of
language is new to none of us, but its impact is far greater than we usually
consider – especially in a reality that seems at least partially to operate in
linguistic terms. In large part we speak
and think and write and imagine the world into existence, at least at a
cultural level. The wicked know this. At the very highest levels of power there is
only ever one war raging. The War of
Imagination. In this fluidic realm where
fiction meets fact and perception has more than just one dimension the wickedest
among us seek to sanitise and normalise this endless, hideous war. But war, especially in its heaviest and most
physical expression, is never sane. It
is trauma and horror and restless dead.
Because any fool can blithely say they don’t believe in monsters – until
they arrive. There are legions of
restless dead who know first-hand of these darker truths. It’s for this reason
that spiritual Light is so important, so essential to the psychological health
of the human race.
War is horror. It’s nothing
to be cheered, or taken lightly. The
wicked know this, which is why they count on us to not understand, or to turn
away in shell-shocked bewilderment. War
is ugly, brutal and inhumane. Most
people don’t have the stomach to stare it in the eye, which is why they would
rather couch it in euphemism. Don’t let
these predator elites use their psychological and social avatars to ghost-write
the most intimate moments of your lives.
Don’t unwittingly build a dark throne for killers, rapists and warlords
within the innermost sanctum of your mind.
Reach for love, always. Reach for
nuance, subtlety, mutual affection…and never be afraid to speak the truth in
sea of lies. The game is wicked, but we
as a collective of sane and loving individuals are not. We all seek the light, whether we call it
that or not. But I’m all too aware just
how painful and terrifying such seeking can be, especially when darkness and
chaos threatens to erupt around us at any moment. But we are at a point in the year now where
we collectively observe and honour the resurrection of the light. It never truly dies. We carry it with us, bittersweet at times but
always there. It’s the very thing that
allows life, and the appreciation of that life.
It’s this appreciation and
contextual agility that makes us real, makes us characters in the stories of
our lives. Revel in that appreciation
and agility, and share it with your kith and kin. Now more than ever.
The Wickedest Game from Raj Sisodia on Vimeo.
I always love your words and your true heart spirit. I am praying for you to be safe. Job and home are two life rattling shakeups. What a world where the most sweet are the most beat.
ReplyDeleteI love these powerful words. Thank you for them and will share.
ReplyDeleteDude, you speak from the heart. The longest journey is the trip from the brain to the heart. To shine forth is key. 87
ReplyDeleteYour words & images inspire & in today's world that's not an easy thing to do. I sincerely hope your situation improves; I've been there, trust me. All I can offer in the way of advice is to not give up, hope & help often arrive in the most unexpected of ways.
ReplyDelete"It’s for this very reason that the wickedest among us want the human race as contextually illiterate as possible." So true. Hence the lack of empathy which is what reinforces the divisions between individuals. We lose our empathy we lose our humanity, & become more like drones. Which may be rather the point.
Beautifully stated. I deeply appreciate your work and am happy to discover your blog. All the best to you.
ReplyDeleteI love these powerful words,It's great! Thanks for all your efforts that you have put in this.
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