Blustery and wet once more this campervan morning. Varying shades of grey cloud overhead pushed along by strong winds. Surrounded by water, but the rain is holding off for the moment. The wind in the trees sends a dull complaint into the air, a mixture of wavering leaves and bending branches. The sound dominates my ears, along with a passing plane and a territorial Squirrel making their presence known. Distant Ducks, but the sky and the trees appear to be empty of birds for the moment. A process of sitting and being, tuning my ears in to hear what’s about reveals very little. The sky is clearing a little to reveal some very pale strands of blue. The coffee is once more welcome. Whilst reading yesterday, I was pointed in the direction of the work of the Irish writer and dramatist Brian Friel. He once wrote :
“It is not the literal past, the 'facts' of history, that shape us, but images of the past embodied in language”.
We appear to live in times where the use of language to create an illusion of our past rises roughshod over the facts, both of then and in the “Here and Now”. The tacit failure to acknowledge the pain, hurt and dreadful crimes of the past, but to dress it up as some glorious adventure. The ongoing use of language to shore up these old lies, to paper over the cracks of history. Also forcing me to think closer to home. The images of my own past and the language I use to describe that, the language of the present. Wittgenstein wrote that the limits of language are the limits of your world. So perhaps today is around acknowledging the facts, awareness of language and the limits it puts on my world. Lovely days people.
“ The greatest enemy of clear language is insincerity.” George Orwell.
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