Amour

The Protestant ethic is a hard shadow to cast off. It invades our life from an early moment when we become faced with the problem of doing something others feel we should.

From making a success at school to succeeding in the work place there is always pressure to be doing something with our time. The urge to fill every second with something meaningful, usually someone else's definition of meaningful, provokes a sense of guilt whenever one is chilled out doing nothing. Of course one is not doing nothing rather one is not doing what someone else thought we should be doing, usually manifesting its self in actions that are visible.But what of the actions are invisible, the stuff that goes on between the ears, the mental stuff. 

Get up early and be active is the refrain, a healthy body is a healthy mind, don't let the minutes tick away they will be lost forever, make the most of the time you have left and so on and so forth. 

To be active and ridicule inactivity is the modern mantra how can one progress, earn a living, or be accepted by society if you don't conform. 

Tonight my little grey cells were vibrating like mad as I watched the film 'Amour'. A brilliantly made poignant film of old age and the tragic journey made by an octogenarian couple who face the trauma of one of the couple struck down with paralysis and dementia. The classic story of the disintegration of all that pride and reserve holds dear, the ability to control our bodily functions, to communicate, to keep that poise which we attribute to who we were slowly dissembles. The women suffers the paralysis , whilst the man, himself old and increasingly feeble tries to meet each stage of the trauma with love and a practicality brought by need. 

Life is nothing other than a vale of tears best endured by honesty, love, unremitting work and a frank recognition of its essential tragic nature.