What is true in this beautiful and terrible life?


There are days when all I see is the horror and the despair…

All I see is that wild fires and storms are raging across the world, and people losing their homes, their livelihoods, and sometimes their lives. Along with thousands upon thousands of wild creatures.

All I see is a new generation of young people who are hooked on smartphones, social media and a technological world in which play and nature and simple face to face contact seem more and more rare; and that they are overwhelmed with eating disorders, neuroses, anxiety, depression and soaring suicide rates.

All I see is a world in which leaders like Trump and Kim Jong-Un – incompetent ignorant and power driven men – are taking us to the brink of nuclear war, denying the climate chaos which is already upon us, and supporting more and more extreme take-overs of profit driven corporations over the value of life itself.

All I see is our lunacy, and the fact that even amongst apparently sane, educated, well fed people, very few of us seem able to relate reliably in a healthy, life affirming, nourishing, and growing way with one another.

On days like this, I feel pessimistic. I feel fundamentally despairing of the human race and our chances of survival; as for the notion of us and the natural world thriving, and an “evolution-of-consciousness-the-likes-of-which-we-have-never-known” which some foretell (including myself on happier days), seem delusional and far fetched in the extreme.

And I realize that all of this is happening in my mind. All of it is thought. Yes, there are horrifying bare facts. And there always have been, when it comes to the history of humanity on Earth. And each generation has thrown up their hands and said, at some point, this is as bad as it gets.

But depending on my mood, the time of the month or the phases of the moon, what happened last night between Colin and I, who I happened to talk to today, or what I happened to read of a million possibilities; what I dreamed last night whether I remember it or not, what my body feels like, or what the weather is doing, what I heard on the news … depending on these and countless other factors, my mind will throw up different outlooks, different perspectives.

What is true? I do not know, and I strongly suspect there IS no truth, as such. There are just different perspectives on different days and at different times and what remains is to not take any one point of view as the right one. What remains is to feel for the response, to come home to the body and a consciousness which is aware of it all and willing to step forward and come back into a creative stream. Which is actually what Life is, when we are here for it. A creative stream of happening. An extraordinary unfolding in which we are all participating.



It helps hugely to remember this. To slip my body and aching heart back into the water of this stream, and allow myself to be drawn by the current, swirling, eddying, pooling, trickling. It helps to connect with nature and to people I love, or people I meet along the way, and step out the narrowness which only thinking brings. And sometimes, like today, it helps to talk to myself out loud as I walk through the fields and woods, speaking out loud what is most precious to me in each moment, speaking out loud my love of the wind on my face; the beauty of the dancing leaves, the feel of my strong legs striding, the appreciation of my beating heart, and the birds wheeling wildly through the darkening sky. And then it helps to write all about it, to let my tears flow freely, let the despair roar through my chest, let the joy of just letting it through lift me up dancing like these autumn leaves… yes I dance a wild stomping fiery dance and then flop down softly on the ground, emptied out and ready for the next chapter of this beautiful and terrible life.

Author: fannybehrens1

See more about me by visiting my website www.beingmoved.com

2 thoughts on “What is true in this beautiful and terrible life?”

  1. I was trying to write a response to your heart cracking words… but an incomprehensible sound came out instead… I think it was the sound of hopelessness and tenderness, with a teaspoon of horrifying comedy in the pot… and, a thank you. Gratitude is always in the pot, even when I don’t know it’s there xx


  2. There’s a speech in Beckett’s devastatingly bleak ‘Endgame’ that kind of parallels your question, ‘What is true? I do not know, and I strongly suspect there IS no truth, as such. There are just different perspectives on different days and at different times and what remains is to not take any one point of view as the right one’.

    ‘HAMM: I once knew a madman who thought the end of the world had come. He was a painter—and engraver. I had a great fondness for him. I used to go and see him, in the asylum. I’d take him by the hand drag him to the window. Look! There! All that rising corn! And there! Look! The sails of the herring fleet! All that loveliness!
    He’d snatch away his hand and go back to his corner. Appalled. All he had seen was ashes.
    He alone had been spared.
    It appears the case is…was not so…so unusual’.

    I think you’re both dead right and therein lies the narrow pathway between despair and (for the moment) salvation.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: