Violence disguised as progress is one of the greatest horrors of mankind and you always find a way to weave a thread of innocence and vulnerability through it. I felt my eyes sting when I read, “I laughed so hard”—which then collapsed into horror: “I stopped laughing. I hadn’t realized they were being serious.” This little girl, her father, the silent veteran—all parts of us trying to keep that spark of humanity alive in the cyclical ash of progress. Heartbreaking piece. Have you ever considered visualizing these essays? They are so vivid, and play out in my mind like a short, art house film, of course narrated by you. I want to zoom in on those eyes, contrast the horror with the faces who can’t escape it.
Its fascinating you say about the visual nature of my writing because i often have a very specific image/images in mind when writing, and I think they translate through the words, or I hope they do. I also try hard to "weave a thread of innocence and vulnerability through" the pieces so thanks so much for saying so Kimberley.
One of my uncle just turned 96 last week and he was an ambulance driver in Korea, another hell hole. If the topic ever floats up, and he will never bring it up, he mostly starts crying about "all these lovely young men busted up." thanks Jonathan. War, and everything about it, is man at his ugliest.
Yep. It's only those little boys in tailored suits who've never seen true violence that are so gung-ho about sending other people's children to death. That too I guess is man at his ugliest. Fuckers. Anyway, it's a sunny day here and I'm going to make the most of it :) Thanks Wes, always a pleasure no matter the conversation.
Such thoughts have been on our minds lately, more vividly for you all in Europe, but we have our own unique situation here in the south. I didn't see that ending coming though until it hit, hard.
Yep, dark times. As to the photo, not surprised you like it, I took it a few years back in New Zealand, one of those volcanic sand beaches on the North Island. You probably vibed it with your southern hemisphere super sense ;) Love a pair of jandals
You know, that sand had me stumped. Sand is such a wonderful geological fingerprint, changing from coast to coast, bay to bay, and I couldn't place it in the north. But now that you say NZ it all falls into place. It is magical sand that.
There are a few places in Italy with black sand, because of their volcanic geology, but yeah for me it's ingrained as a NZ thing. I love the way it heats up so much on a sunny day.
The insanity of war never ceases to amaze me and you capture it well here, Jonathan. Coincidentally, I went to the theater this past weekend to see a film called The Thin Red Line. It's long been one of my favorite films, and the one that made me want to be a filmmaker. Before that film I had never seen a movie which truly depicted the effects of war on man, society, and nature. It blew my mind, and its exploration of the endless cycle of war reminded me so much of what you wrote about here. Perfect timing for another one of your beautiful visions. Thank you.
Thanks so much for your thought provoking comment Troy. And for your always clear and good heartedness.
I've always found it hard, watching or reading all these brilliant art works, films and novels and plays and more, all depicting the dreadful effect of war, of poverty, of class violence, of all the seemingly devilish acts of man, and yet nothing seems to penetrate the actual behavior. I remember being a younger man and reading books like Slaughterhouse 5, or All Quiet On The Western Front, or Catch 22, and thinking that these masterpieces will surely put a stop to all this madness, for who could send the children of others to kill even more children of others after reading these works. Or seeing films like The Thin Red Line. And yet. And yet.
I wanted to write something that was both personal and universal and upsetting and gentle. I mentioned to Susie (of the hill) that I'm trying to up my writing game and focus in closer and wider at the same time. Lets see how I go with that. Glad you're here pal :)
"Neither the dead nor the living call back from the deep dark terrain that is yet to unfold. The voices cease. I hear nothing, not a whisper, not even from an hour forth."
If only they did, if only they would shout loud 'war is not progress' I think we would hear their laughter forever!
This feels like a knife through my heart Jonathan... on a Monday morning too!
Apologies Susie, it’s not a good accompaniment with your Monday boiled egg. I wonder if I should try to write something more cheerful? It’ll come with the sun :)
Oh never apologise Jonathan, it was brilliantly written and there is always something to distract us from heartbreak lurking/hurtling around the next corner, this morning it came in the shape of a rugby ball!
Staring, through the eyes of war.Sharp, painful, disturbing, yet elegant, and perfect, Jonathan. The entire piece.
“I can hear intimate whispers reaching from the deep past, like a harmonious symphony surging straight from the soul, clipping along like wild horses, carrying all the mood and temperament and spirit forward through time.”
“But the future is silence. I hear not a whisper.”
You have silenced me (well, almost), and as you are well aware, that is no small feat. I have my own thoughts on the ending, but I will not say, in case I am ‘reading into it’.
I imagine, if I'm guessing right, that you are reading the ending correctly, Lor, and that death and violence comes upon them through rockets and war. That they themselves are turned into lamb, so to speak as the most appalling violence explodes into the most intimate of spaces.
Apologies for the harshness in this story. It's the times I think.
The religion of 'Progress' has a long history, aided by Christian theologians of ever onward and upward to Heaven on Earth -- now supercharged by the religion of 'Technology as Progress' - progress for whom, one wonders, and by what criteria? But never mind that - AI to the rescue.
Great piece, thank you. And a someone who has spent a lifetime grappling with what's now called "Generational War Trauma", this posting hit a deep note.
“His silence and reticence scared me more than all of these channels with their war-lusting and marvelling at all the butchery. It wasn’t just that he struggled with the memories, it was also that he struggled with the reasons. It was the incomprehensible stupidity of it all that shattered him into shards of confusion. He couldn’t accept the witlessness, the senselessness, the irrationality.
But worse still he couldn’t face the inevitability of it all. The cyclical certainty that people will be stomped into a societal sized meat grinders and demolished for no better reason than it’s built into the social system. He felt ashamed to be a human being and I could see it in his despairing face whenever anyone spoke of war, which was more and more often these days.”
You say things I feel in ways I could never say them. You astonish me. 🙏
Violence disguised as progress is one of the greatest horrors of mankind and you always find a way to weave a thread of innocence and vulnerability through it. I felt my eyes sting when I read, “I laughed so hard”—which then collapsed into horror: “I stopped laughing. I hadn’t realized they were being serious.” This little girl, her father, the silent veteran—all parts of us trying to keep that spark of humanity alive in the cyclical ash of progress. Heartbreaking piece. Have you ever considered visualizing these essays? They are so vivid, and play out in my mind like a short, art house film, of course narrated by you. I want to zoom in on those eyes, contrast the horror with the faces who can’t escape it.
Its fascinating you say about the visual nature of my writing because i often have a very specific image/images in mind when writing, and I think they translate through the words, or I hope they do. I also try hard to "weave a thread of innocence and vulnerability through" the pieces so thanks so much for saying so Kimberley.
One of my uncle just turned 96 last week and he was an ambulance driver in Korea, another hell hole. If the topic ever floats up, and he will never bring it up, he mostly starts crying about "all these lovely young men busted up." thanks Jonathan. War, and everything about it, is man at his ugliest.
Yep. It's only those little boys in tailored suits who've never seen true violence that are so gung-ho about sending other people's children to death. That too I guess is man at his ugliest. Fuckers. Anyway, it's a sunny day here and I'm going to make the most of it :) Thanks Wes, always a pleasure no matter the conversation.
Likewise
Such thoughts have been on our minds lately, more vividly for you all in Europe, but we have our own unique situation here in the south. I didn't see that ending coming though until it hit, hard.
(BTW, change of mood, but cool photo!)
Yep, dark times. As to the photo, not surprised you like it, I took it a few years back in New Zealand, one of those volcanic sand beaches on the North Island. You probably vibed it with your southern hemisphere super sense ;) Love a pair of jandals
You know, that sand had me stumped. Sand is such a wonderful geological fingerprint, changing from coast to coast, bay to bay, and I couldn't place it in the north. But now that you say NZ it all falls into place. It is magical sand that.
There are a few places in Italy with black sand, because of their volcanic geology, but yeah for me it's ingrained as a NZ thing. I love the way it heats up so much on a sunny day.
Ufff Jonathan. Provocative as always, progress as religion, not those humans! Thank you for your work.
It's the softest hard place this one. Thanks Síodhna :)
No laugh, no cry, no words. Just a chill down my spine.
Yep. Me too
The insanity of war never ceases to amaze me and you capture it well here, Jonathan. Coincidentally, I went to the theater this past weekend to see a film called The Thin Red Line. It's long been one of my favorite films, and the one that made me want to be a filmmaker. Before that film I had never seen a movie which truly depicted the effects of war on man, society, and nature. It blew my mind, and its exploration of the endless cycle of war reminded me so much of what you wrote about here. Perfect timing for another one of your beautiful visions. Thank you.
Thanks so much for your thought provoking comment Troy. And for your always clear and good heartedness.
I've always found it hard, watching or reading all these brilliant art works, films and novels and plays and more, all depicting the dreadful effect of war, of poverty, of class violence, of all the seemingly devilish acts of man, and yet nothing seems to penetrate the actual behavior. I remember being a younger man and reading books like Slaughterhouse 5, or All Quiet On The Western Front, or Catch 22, and thinking that these masterpieces will surely put a stop to all this madness, for who could send the children of others to kill even more children of others after reading these works. Or seeing films like The Thin Red Line. And yet. And yet.
I wanted to write something that was both personal and universal and upsetting and gentle. I mentioned to Susie (of the hill) that I'm trying to up my writing game and focus in closer and wider at the same time. Lets see how I go with that. Glad you're here pal :)
"Neither the dead nor the living call back from the deep dark terrain that is yet to unfold. The voices cease. I hear nothing, not a whisper, not even from an hour forth."
If only they did, if only they would shout loud 'war is not progress' I think we would hear their laughter forever!
This feels like a knife through my heart Jonathan... on a Monday morning too!
Brutally poignant, devastating words...
Apologies Susie, it’s not a good accompaniment with your Monday boiled egg. I wonder if I should try to write something more cheerful? It’ll come with the sun :)
Oh never apologise Jonathan, it was brilliantly written and there is always something to distract us from heartbreak lurking/hurtling around the next corner, this morning it came in the shape of a rugby ball!
I am too old for this..😂
Ha! Intriguing, I hope a lose drop kick didn’t send it your way?
(And thanks, I’m on a mission to really up my writing game so I appreciate your kindness pal🙏🏼)
A wayward pass… I still have the bruise!
Good to know your still on the team though Susie ;)
I think it was Kafka who said, “Believing in progress does not mean believing that any progress has yet been made.”
He had a way with words eh! ;) I like that Paul, thanks
You certainly have a way with words yourself, Jonathan. A compelling read!
Thanks my friend
Staring, through the eyes of war.Sharp, painful, disturbing, yet elegant, and perfect, Jonathan. The entire piece.
“I can hear intimate whispers reaching from the deep past, like a harmonious symphony surging straight from the soul, clipping along like wild horses, carrying all the mood and temperament and spirit forward through time.”
“But the future is silence. I hear not a whisper.”
You have silenced me (well, almost), and as you are well aware, that is no small feat. I have my own thoughts on the ending, but I will not say, in case I am ‘reading into it’.
Would you like that “roasted” or “grilled”?
I imagine, if I'm guessing right, that you are reading the ending correctly, Lor, and that death and violence comes upon them through rockets and war. That they themselves are turned into lamb, so to speak as the most appalling violence explodes into the most intimate of spaces.
Apologies for the harshness in this story. It's the times I think.
Exactly what I thought 🐑
The religion of 'Progress' has a long history, aided by Christian theologians of ever onward and upward to Heaven on Earth -- now supercharged by the religion of 'Technology as Progress' - progress for whom, one wonders, and by what criteria? But never mind that - AI to the rescue.
Great piece, thank you. And a someone who has spent a lifetime grappling with what's now called "Generational War Trauma", this posting hit a deep note.
Thank you Joshua. "progress for whom...and by what criteria?" An excellent question with nothing but dreadful answers lining up.
Blew me away………
“His silence and reticence scared me more than all of these channels with their war-lusting and marvelling at all the butchery. It wasn’t just that he struggled with the memories, it was also that he struggled with the reasons. It was the incomprehensible stupidity of it all that shattered him into shards of confusion. He couldn’t accept the witlessness, the senselessness, the irrationality.
But worse still he couldn’t face the inevitability of it all. The cyclical certainty that people will be stomped into a societal sized meat grinders and demolished for no better reason than it’s built into the social system. He felt ashamed to be a human being and I could see it in his despairing face whenever anyone spoke of war, which was more and more often these days.”
You say things I feel in ways I could never say them. You astonish me. 🙏
I wish I never had to say them at all. Thank you for understanding Michaele. 🙏🏼
Echoing the rib-splitting laughter, my friend.
Another gorgeous piece.
Thanks pal, it’s sure is a crazy world. And thank you for reading and getting me, Holly🙏🏼
Beautifully haunting.
Thanks Leah 🙏🏼