Helpless [By Pogo]
My daughter was telling me last night about how she thinks the world is a bad place. She thinks there are too many "silly rules". She doesn't like seeing stories on the news about people being killed. She thinks people are cruel to animals.
Having just arrived back from Glastonbury I found myself in the unusual position of telling her that, in my opinion, it's not such a bad place after all. That's not something I'd normally be heard to say. I agree with her on all points - our Government is interfering too much in our lives, the world's only superpower has embarked on an empire-building drive citing morals as justificaion, and McFood is busy torturefarming and slavedriving.
But...
Spend a weekend in a muddy part of Somerset and you see a totally different side to humanity. The fun side. The alive side. The side that - temporarily, at least - escapes from The System and gets in touch with the other 80% of the brain. The subconscious. The bit that tells you what's really right and wrong.
Three days of watching people do something they love, joining in, jumping up and down with the sheer bloody joy of it all. Singing along with sixty thousand others to the words of a song you didn't even know you knew. Smiling in spite of it all. Helpless with happiness.
Moments like those are priceless. If you've never experienced one - do so at least once in your life. Otherwise you won't know what it is to be really alive.
Pogo is continually told to shut up by his long-suffering mates down the pub. Always opinionated yet rarely correct, he can't help sticking his oar in no matter what the subject. He has even been known to offer up opinions on playing various musical instruments, about which he is supremely unqualified to speak.
Having just arrived back from Glastonbury I found myself in the unusual position of telling her that, in my opinion, it's not such a bad place after all. That's not something I'd normally be heard to say. I agree with her on all points - our Government is interfering too much in our lives, the world's only superpower has embarked on an empire-building drive citing morals as justificaion, and McFood is busy torturefarming and slavedriving.
But...
Spend a weekend in a muddy part of Somerset and you see a totally different side to humanity. The fun side. The alive side. The side that - temporarily, at least - escapes from The System and gets in touch with the other 80% of the brain. The subconscious. The bit that tells you what's really right and wrong.
Three days of watching people do something they love, joining in, jumping up and down with the sheer bloody joy of it all. Singing along with sixty thousand others to the words of a song you didn't even know you knew. Smiling in spite of it all. Helpless with happiness.
Moments like those are priceless. If you've never experienced one - do so at least once in your life. Otherwise you won't know what it is to be really alive.
Pogo is continually told to shut up by his long-suffering mates down the pub. Always opinionated yet rarely correct, he can't help sticking his oar in no matter what the subject. He has even been known to offer up opinions on playing various musical instruments, about which he is supremely unqualified to speak.
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