Getting Lost

Since reading about Hellinger's work at the weekend I have been thinking long and hard about this...
It reminds me of the ambivalence I felt in India about Buddhism - which I will return to later...
Being part of a family with a long tradition of taking on inequality and injustice, I find some exhortations to accept everything, to know I can't change anything, and not to get attached to anything somewhat dubious.
I accept compassion is essential, but not everything can be tolerated. When is acceptance just avoiding a difficult moral choice ? Is conflict always to be avoided ?
If the Working Classes hadn't rioted on numerous occasions on this septic isle from Watt Tyler to Cable Street to the Poll Tax riots, none of us would have even the limited freedoms we have now. If Working Class boys hadn't died in their thousands we may all be goose-stepping to the Volkswagen factory every morning. I know it wasn't just Working Class lads who have been cannon fodder down the years ..but they have usually died in higher numbers, then done equally dangerous, dirty and essential jobs in peacetime and then faced criticism for their rowdy behaviour in their precious hours off... Speaking as an ex-waitress, pissed up toffs are far worse, in fact they are vile, and their families can usually afford a decent solicitor or daddy plays golf with the judge....
In the 1930's members of my family and thousands of other families in this country were literally starving, whilst the rich courted fascism and eugenics, whilst allowing people to die for profit.
Meanwhile many left wing liberals argued and pontificated and formed splinter groups in Spain or went to Soviet seminars..
When the middle classes want change, but don't want to dirty their own hands then who does the dirty work? Then who gets called vicious and uncultured ? You can't have an army of limp wristed intellectuals can you ?(back to Spain - where my uncle Danny caught a bullet for a Cambridge educated poet who was having a panic attack - and still carried the useless twat down the mountain as he was such a coward....)
The point is this : Why should the likes of I - who have never benefitted from a superior education nor having the right connections to influential bohemians and intellectuals - be made to feel guilty about my justifiable anger at the inequalities in the world, and when someone treats me unfairly.
Why should I be judged for getting angry and having emotions ?
It was those emotions which have enabled me to fight for Social Justice effectively. Blood, red blood runs through my veins not blue feckin ice.
The suburban scaredy-cats moan about our dreadful binge drinking yob culture. Society gets the young people it deserves.....they didn't just happen, they have evolved from a sociopathic individualistic culture which defines our worth by what we spend and how we look. Ultimately there has been little social mobility in the last 15 years, the gap just gets wider.

In Ladakh, the population are Buddhists and so can't kill any sentient being...so they pay the Muslim butchers to do it.
Sorry but that is such a cop out...You can't pay to send your bad karma onto someone else surely ?
Or is that what the Working Classes are doing - eating up the bad karma of the middle class liberals....

I hate the word chav - it is a Romani word meaning boy and I really resent the way it has been used as some horrible catch all for sneering middle class kids and media to use about Working Class kids-who let's face it have feck all to aspire to - at least when I was a kid a degree was free....so I could afford a university education.

I am not bitter , despite what it might sound like, but I feel there will be a reckoning. Evolution is evolution and when resources get scarce who is going to survive .....Intellectuals, Journalists, Lawyers, Politicians, Snivel servants or those of us who know how to live in the woods and grow or kill our own food ? Will chav have the same meaning in 50 years time ?

Let me just add a disclaimer to this..I really am not feeling this maudlin..it is merely an attempt at applying a bit of form and structure to my burbling...this is an exercise in writing a ballad...hence tragedy, melodrama and guilt.....part of the requirement for the genre....it isn't an accurate portrayal of what actually happened though similarities to people living or dead are purely intentional.....

Oh ladies, I would caution please,
to heed what I must tell,
For he may come and your heart seize,
and drag you down to hell.

I was not looking for to stray,
a good man I had near,
My home, a hearth and happiness
and never any fears.

But as the leaves began to fall,
a chill began to lurk,
the blue eyed stranger dressed in black,
came looking for some work.

He looked at me in such a way,
a rose grew in my breast,
he dripped his honey in my ear,
my heart beat in my chest.

For many months he whispered low,
and said my man was cold,
that only he could give true love,
if I would be so bold.

And still the stranger ate with us,
between us at the table.
My man had one last chance to act,
by then he was not able.

In June I took the blue eyed man
to see the gypsy fair,
a fortune teller sealed my fate
by lying to me there.

And so I smilingly betrayed
the man who least deserved it,
and as our lips first touched to kiss
I knew one day I'd curse it.

A gypsy oath, a sunset red
and I was in his arms,
and all the angels sang to me
as he revealed his charms.

I could not lie to my good man,
I left him straight away.
I never knew a home again,
from that accursed day.

The stranger he did not like work,
but he was fond of spending,
I worked my fingers to the bone,
while he went on pretending.

And then with all the money gone,
my face so aged with worry,
he cast me off without a word
no thank you, nor no sorry.

I have no home, I have no man,
my youth and health are gone,
I live with shame , I live with guilt
for all that I have done.

I loved him more than words can say,
I thought he was an angel,
but he was evil to the bone,
that handsome blue eyed stranger.

So ladies, I will beg again
take heed of what I tell,
and if a stranger knocks for you,
you curse him back to hell.