Julian Summerhayes

At the moment, I'm deep into capitalism, having finished David Whyte's thought-provoking book, Ecocide: Kill The Company Before It Kills Us . If I'm honest, I'm not sure what I'm going to discover that I don't already know. That said, I'm not suggesting I know very much about (inter alia) Natural Capital, Green Swans or neoliberalism, but you don't need to be Einstein to work out that capitalism has been one of, if not the main enabler for the Anthropocene . Oh, that, and our insatiable, wanton desire for more stuff.  Yes, that's right. Absent us, there wouldn't exist the corporate vehicle, less still greedy capitalists (I say that, of course, only mildly tongue-in-cheek.) As I've said so many times: we need the world; the world doesn't need us . And where does all this fit with the latest UK-wide CV19 restrictions and the catastrophic situation we find ourselves living in and through? Again, I'm not sure. Perhaps it is that we were n

“The more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.” ― Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain Good morning from a quiet and very dark Devon. The coffee is poured, there's quiet, almost sleep-inducing music on in the background , and I'm here again at my computer musing on life. I've written before about limits, having been inspired by Stephen Jenkinson's work . Yes, the same person who has written so eloquently about death, elderhood and especially limits. You know the kind: life death the earth relationships our abilities in fact so much of what we take for granted or expect.  But we don't covet limits. Quite the contrary. Instead ― and yes it's a generalisation too bloody far (as ever, Summerhayes) ― we're obsessed with the trope that says you can and MUST

Over the weekend, I spent time reading Ecocide: Kill The Corporation Before It Kills Us by David Whyte .  I'll be honest, it made me feel sick to my stomach given: a) our unholy fascination with the corporate vehicle; and b) the damage it's wrought and continues to do so, unabated.  Think about it. We talk about climate change, environmental degradation and sustainability but, save for regulation that might kill off the capitalist ideal - it's never going to happen on my watch - it's the company that's responsible for all the egregious harm to mother earth and her people.  I've not yet finished the book but I do know from a video that I watched to launch the book that towards the end there is a manifesto of sorts, and I'll be interested to see what David Whyte says about systemic change or rather what comes next if we don't want to see the very ground of our divination wiped away in the next 100 years (it could be less; and if you want to know more, I hi

 ..before. Nothing new. Nothing to say. Lots to do, but what? What would make a difference? Plant some trees, collect plastic from the polluted beaches, protest? Arghh! How about: be prepared to stop  (HT to Stephen Jenkinson )?  By hook or by crook, to stop doing what we're doing for fear of or the near certainty that we'll annihilate everything, everybody and all of nature in our pursuit of growth. It's all so depressing, right? I mean, here we are in the midst of a pandemic and if that doesn't make us realise and appreciate the fragility of the human race then nothing will. Nothing. Does this mean I'm misanthropic? It would be easy to think that but, as the old saw goes, it's us, the humans, who got us into this mess, and it's only us who can...[fill in the blank]. The truth is - always mine and mine alone - I've little faith that for all the good words and deeds we'll ever see the light and only at the time when things are bad, real bad, will we

When we want to, we can achieve great things. I mean life-changing things – for us and others. Of course, we're not superhuman or robots and it's understandable why we're not always inclined or inspired to act this way. In fact, just as often we'd rather live a nice quiet life. Don't ask me why – perhaps it's my continued rumination on death and dying – but at the moment I'm drawn to consider those people who have done great things in the arts or otherwise but have died young. I was going to say well before their time, but as someone bordering on the edge of fatalism, when our time's up, our time is up! I'm not suggesting we lose ourselves under the staggering weight of expectation but I do think it worth allowing the thought to hang in the air when we achieved our greatest things and invite the question: "Why or how?" Anyhow, back to the coalface. Have a good one. Blessings, Julian

Right now, one day feels much like the one before. Hell, even the weekends have bled into the week, and it's a wonder I can remember what day it is. And if this Covid19 thing has its continued way, I don't see this mesmerising routine letting up anytime soon. But I digress. Life . 'WOW' and 'Meh!' in equal measure. And it goes by at such a pace that before you know where you are, you wonder where the hell it's gone. At the time – deep in the trenches – it all feels so real, so alive but in hindsight (at least for me) it hardly registers on the life and death scale. I'll be honest, right now, there's a sense, a blessed one that I'm going through the motions. And that's not me; I'm very much of the school that likes to have a purpose or at least a settled meaning to my 'doing'. The only thing that's keeping me in the game is a sense of responsibility and not wanting to let anyone down. And that's fine – honest it is – bu