An Erratic Orbit

A bipolar perspective on the 3rd planet


August 2016

The Purge: A mental health disaster 

​So how do you go through hundreds of thousands of social media accounts with a handful of staff? Answer: You don’t. You pay SEOs/Social media companies for the information. 

On facebook, members have expressed fear, anxiety, and have even been suicidal. People under the most pressure from the Tories already. Junior doctors, nurses, the disabled, Union leaders. The anguished thought, taking many forms,  is ‘How can our comrades do this to us?’ 

sitting under a bridge with your head in your hands
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Sitting with their spreadsheets in Labour HQ, no doubt depressed by columns of invective and swearing without context, our comrades see only the back end of the elephant.

The Owen Smith team are right in a way. Almost everyone is an entryist. There are few “pure” Socialists, if any, because our code is inherently compromised. The solutions are radical: Firstly we must reach out to Johanna Baxter and co. Be part of their Social Media. Show them what is happening, and how it is impacting most greatly on the most vulnerable of us. Secondly, we must not be afraid of a building and a name. “Compliance” is branding, a label that hides the doubts and fears of the individuals. Pull back the curtain and… 

Dorothy confronts the Wizard

The third prong is all embracing: The ends cannot justify the means. There is only the present moment. Mindfulness and ethical compassion must be our reality. Kindness in the here and now. I fail, they fail, you fail too. We have aims and values as a collective. The only way to get closer to our goals is to forgive. 

Yet without the punishing stick how can we learn to avoid straying into our grievances and stratagems? That too must be, in fact, a kindness. In a political party dedicated to Socialism, what takes us from our goal is desire to accumulate wealth and possessions. We see others as objects, as “Other”. We want to possess and exploit others. This is the Kool-Aid in our system. 

There is nothing more radical than compassion, love, the revolution in the head. 

The only basis then for exclusion should be inability to show compassion on the basis of psychological testing by the qualified, and perhaps only where Dark traits have been identified as greatly compromising the party’s goal of Socialism. To get back on the road to Socialism, we cannot seek to be an exclusionary party. The culture must change. 

Pilot and co-pilot talking about power relations
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Paternalism and deference in the Party must be addressed. The caring professions are where we tend to find our most empathic souls. In music, art, beauty, nursing, teaching, therapy, and charity. Right now (I am writing this in the hour before the dawn), if compassion grows anywhere you will find it for sure in the beds of carers, doctors, and many of those amongst us with mental health problems. If we can sleep at all. 

Love is natural to us and so there is, always, hope. 

Feathers pub, Westminster
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Twilight Cut Up

​As of yet there is nowhere to revolt; The pain Edward has developed, fomented in revolutionary desire, is unfailingly old, a wounded property that springs from the dusty decadent lust of the vampire. 

Edward’s take on capital neglects the world-market, a naive assessment of the expropriators and excesses of production strained through the gnat’s asshole of Forks, Wash. He is an accomplished primitive, no deeper than a call jar. But in the process of cutting lurks the transformation of the world.  Private production is the animal to keep them guessing, the secular monster we laugh over because we do not comprehend. 

You are teen property, limited, increasing words, smug, assured, lost and insecure. Shallow as the tombstone complexion of a desperately snorting Executive Producer.  You think you have succeeded history because you know nothing of it. Edward fixed his eyes on me, spoke of the fixed labor process.

“I was human (and violent). I had that capitalistic cheek. You were the hardest development, an immanent vampire, and back then I wore revolution like a badge.”

The tells hurt; Decomposed Edward Cullen, his small and technical methods, the centuries of decay upon his cracking lips. It chastely attracted Bella, infamous instrument of a people cooking in the juices of a yesterday that never was and a today that will not see. The Victorian usurps her, the modern-day stirs in her womb, making a scent only Bella can appreciate. For you suckers (sucked), it is a ghostly promise, the Emperor’s new nose.

My dumb Pa was griddling newspapers for breakfast. 
“Ha. nine-thirty to noodles I am going to say something you can feel superior about, Bella.”

Crabby crabby man. 

I am the immanent swan— diminishing  itself. All teeth and breathless sighs. My tower is an expropriation of swooning, fresh lamb for dinner, an impenetrable private commitment.

Members of the jury, I put it to you that the passions of Bella are the wrinkled death throes of the teenage voice, the screaming  pocket scent of a lid upon the cauldron whose material you cannot fathom, a cooking pot you cannot see, that you think is Love or a perfumed dress. So I skirt around the fire. Your desire is real but it is strangled. The object you have been given is strangling you. Cut it up.

Pre-flight stress check (UK English version) 

If you feel patronised by any of the following, brilliant. You know how to deal with stress to reach equanimity and to use compassion to alleviate the suffering of others in simple ways. 

As a wise person might point out to you, “Ladies and Gentlemen* we are floating in space.”

If you feel SICK or NAUSEOUS or DISGUSTED at any point, this is normal. We are floating in space. Please consult a GUIDE. Please do not be alarmed but if you don’t feel you need help when you feel sick or nauseous or disgusted, this is dangerous. Poisons make us feel these things. Please see one of our guides IMMEDIATELY.  Failure to do so may result in death.

If you are ANGRY or IMPATIENT or are experiencing any symptoms of HATE or RAGE, this is normal.

Please say hello to our security guard. His* name is STRESS. Please do not attempt to fight him. He is a supreme jujitsu master. STRESS WILL KILL YOU. 

Do not be alarmed. 

Murray died of worry. Don’t worry about Murray. This is a mantra. 

Please return to your seat. Everything is fine. The wings are supposed to be on fire.

Do not attempt to pilot the spaceship. STRESS WILL KILL YOU. 

What do you mean “What fucking spaceship?”  We are floating in space, sir. 

If you are OFFENDED, you are unwell. 

Have you met our security guard? Good. You are insignificant. This is normal. 

Please breathe. Deep breaths if necessary. Thank you. 

That is Murray. Please don’t worry about him. STRESS etc

Breathe. Deep breaths. Relax. We have solutions. 

We have a pilot. A brilliant pilot. More amazing than you can imagine. We’ve had hairy moments but they haven’t failed yet. Everything is on fire. I know. It’s supposed to be like that. 

The pilot… First, breathe. Deep breaths. In. Out. 

(*If you don’t feel you are a lady or a gentleman, the first thing to understand is that you are right. This is normal. It’s an ancient way of speaking to people. If you know you are right about this, please move on. We have people to help.)

ANXIETY may stop you engaging with guides. Anxiety is treatable. If you are not very anxious right now, make an appointment with your GP in your area of the spaceship. 

If you are very anxious right now, and it is stopping you taking practical steps to deal with your problems,  SPEAK to someone  you know and trust. If you feel there is no-one you can trust you are in serious danger. Do not be alarmed, here is the best help you can get right now:
If you do not complete the stress check, you know what will happen? Big isn’t he? You are insignificant. You are holding up the flight. I’d rather he didn’t kill you. 

The best thing about STRESS is, he doesn’t exist. Take a look. You won’t ever find him. He’s in your head. We made him up. I don’t even know what he looked like to you. Maybe tell me? 

Everything is on fire. This is normal. Breathe. 

Murray died of worry. Don’t worry about Murray. Murray died of worry. Don’t worry about Murray. Murray died of worry. Don’t worry about Murray. 

Alrighty then. 

Andy Murray kissing the Wimbledon trophy
Andy Murray achieves his goal

Photo: Andy Rain

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