The morning after the morning after

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So. At this time on a Saturday morning, with the weekly shopping done, I would normally be writing poetry. But poetry takes a certain amount of focus, and today I do not have that. Following the referendum result, the UK and Europe face years of challenge and uncertainty. I find myself uneasy and worried.

I know there are many people who see this as a wonderful new start for the UK, free of the shackles of the European Union. I trust they will use their sudden freedom responsibly, to make the UK a peaceful, stable, generous, welcoming place.

As for me, I do not share their near-mystical faith in the British (look how I am already in a terminological mess by the third paragraph as I try to tease things out). There are many, many good things about the UK and, having lived here all my life, I know how things work and I can be comfortable here. (I prefer East Anglian beer to any other in the world, but that is, in part, because that was the beer I started drinking.)

I can admire the view across a valley, seeing the pattern of the hedgerows and fields, the woods and the single oaks in the pastures. Yet at the same time I know a large part of that landscape was formed as the result of an eighteenth century land-grab, carried out by the elite and sanctioned by their unrepresentative parliament. (And the same, or worse, can be said about the grouse moors of Scotland.)

There is a certain inevitablity in quoting Chesterton when talking about the UK (and again, the terminology: Chesterton wrote a History of England, not a History of Britain). When, during the Boer war, he was faced with maddened imperialism, he observed:

‘My country, right or wrong,’ is a thing that no patriot would think of saying. It is like saying, ‘My mother, drunk or sober.’

You love your mother because she is your mother, but do you want her to behave like that?

Britain no more has a ‘rightful place in the world’ than the USA has a ‘manifest destiny’, and the ‘British way of life’ has no more intrinsic value than any other. Such value it has comes from its alignment to universals such as justice, truth and kindness.

But we are where we are. So the question is ‘what do I do?’

Despair and resentment are not options. My answer is that I must act with justice, truth and kindness, and I must work that out in everything that I write and create.

It is time to write poetry again.

The Fourth Crusade

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The Taking of Constantinople by Palma Le Jeune (1544–1620)

So. Let us briefly turn away from today’s momentous events and bask in the warm and comforting glow emitted by the distant past. A period so remote that in our house it is referred to as ‘days of yore’ (which is much longer ago than ‘the olden days’). The period of the Fourth Crusade.

Now, the Fourth Crusade, which was led by an Italian count, Boniface of Montferrat, was intended to regain the Holy Land by attacking through Egypt. The crusaders gathered in Venice in 1202 and readied to sail for Cairo. Unfortunately, they couldn’t pay their debts to the Venetians (who were supplying the ships and sailors for the expedition). After some negotiation it was agreed the crusaders would harry Venice’s competitors on the Adriatic.

In 1202 the crusaders arrived at the city of Zara (present-day Zadar) which was independent but under the protection of the King of Hungary. Pope Innocent III had forbidden the crusaders to attack any Christian cities: the leaders of the crusade chose to conceal his letter from their followers and stormed the city.

After that bad start the story becomes even murkier, as the crusaders became involved in the politics of the Byzantine Empire, most probably for money. They sailed for Byzantium (Constantinople). In April 1204, after a complex series of events, the crusaders attacked and took the city, sacking it for three days.

“O City, City, eye of all cities, universal boast, supramundane wonder, nurse of churches, leader of the faith, guide of Orthodoxy, beloved topic of orations, the abode of every good thing! Oh City, that hast drunk at the hand of the Lord the cup of his fury! O City, consumed by fire…” (Niketas Choniates)

The crusaders set up a Latin kingdom centred on Byzantium. Ultimately, the Latin kingom was overthrown and Byzantine rule restored, but the Byzantines had been fatally weakened and they proved unable to resist the advance of the Seljuk and then Ottoman Turks. The city fell in 1453, and most of the Balkans were overrun by the Ottoman Empire.

Only a very small proportion of the crusaders ever reached the Holy Land.

But that was then. In the present day we can be confident that no ideological crusade which starts out to ‘liberate’ a land can ever lead to disaster and impoverishment for millions across Europe.

So not a therapist

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The Nightmare (Thomas Burke (artist), after Henry Fuseli (Johann Heinrich Füssli) – Tate Britain, Public Domain)

So. Recently, I ran a workshop on techniques to start creative projects. I have run it a few times now (and I have written about the techniques elsewhere), but not so often that I am on autopilot. Almost every time I find out something interesting for me. This time was no different.

We started the session doing some free writing starting from the phrase ‘a garden is …’. Everyone got their heads down and wrote, all in handwriting tidier than mine. Then we went round to see what people had found in their writing. As you’d expect, even with that starting point there was a huge variation in the approach, subject and style of the writing. But what I hadn’t expected was that one person became quite emotional as they finished going through their text.

It came as a surprise, but, on reflection, really shouldn’t have. We aren’t doing therapy, but any workshop which involves people accessing the things inside them, has the possibility that some of those things will be disturbing or distressing. We are always hoping for wonders, but there is no rule that the things which emerge will be beautiful and uplifting.

No life is entirely free of pain, and for many people life is grim. If we invite them to an act of self-exposure – which is what writing is – we should expect evidence of those experiences in what they create.

In fact, given that we are dealing with human experience I’m surprised that so little of what comes out is negative. On this occasion, we gave the person a moment, then moved gently on to the next exercise.

And I was reminded, once again, of the power of this writing stuff, which I sometimes treat too glibly.