For so many years I raced into work to get stuck into whatever was on my plate at the time. In the radio lab I felt at home. I’d always wanted to understand how radio worked and now I had joined the inner circle I could play for real. It’s a truly fascinating field and I’m glad to have taken the opportunity to ‘live the dream’. But it was a dream and today I’m also glad that I’ve awakened from it. The frenetic pace of development doesn’t allow for deliberation of conscience. I was probably as lost then as the technocrats of today are as they race to bring AI to self-awareness.
As with so many others, marching to the drum of the day, we get lost and distracted in the minutiae and neglect the big picture appreciation of the direction of travel. Today I shudder at how readily I was blindsided from reality. It had profound implications for my family, my relationship, my health and my career. Eventually when the inevitable crash came, and the drumbeat could no longer be heard, it took a long time to get back into rhythm. At last I’m back up and marching to my own drum and delighting in the spontaneity that each day brings. Now in retirement I laugh at the idea that I’m working harder than ever and enjoying my days even more. Not for me the comfy fireside slippers, ‘sundowners’, golf caddy and death from boredom.
Yesterday my day’s work was done at 7.30am when I’d planted two geraniums in the garden. I tucked them carefully into the earth, talked to them, watered them, and dreamed of the luxurious blooms to follow. The encounter was so rewarding that I chose to have the rest of the day off to read, play tunes, walk and drink unspeakable quantities of coffee; - deliberation of conscience at its finest!
The 30,000 feet view of the world shows what’s really going on. It’s a strange thought that I’m far enough away from the front line not be involved with the carnage, yet able to see the interconnected nature of the shenanigans carefully orchestrated for our destruction. At still greater heights the wondrous webs we weave all join up taking us into the house of The Adams Family, where humour is found in the darkest of pastimes. I’ve yet to find an ‘Elite’ operator with anything plausible to say. Indeed I struggle to understand how they can so easily prescribe how we must all live while they flaunt their wealth with their private jets, ocean going yachts or fleets of gas guzzling cars. I enjoy my occasional 30,000 foot view, but I know that it’s on the ground where I can make my best contribution. These poor Elite bastards are about to be thrown out of their blimp without a parachute. What’s the odds that they’ll land on the front line in the Ukraine, in Rafah, Gaza or direct into Gitmo?
