Long live the King
Some thoughts on mourning the loss of a monarch when you're not a monarchist
Tearful is the only word for it.
That’s how I’ve felt since hearing the news of the Queen’s passing.
One is allowed to be saddedned by the death of the Queen whilst still acknowledging the problematic nature of a hierarchical social order.
I’m sure, like me, you’re aware of the horrors that have been carried out in the name of colonialism. The generational trauma that now plays out in individual families and human lives from the legacy of the British Empire. One can also acknowledge the trauma still being actively pursued to this day by similar power structures.
I’m sure, you’re also like me, a complex multi-layered unit of barely held together tensions and longings.
Maybe you’re also like me in that you would quite like to honour your own complexity. You feel a need, at long last, to care for and hold dearly your own contradictions, hypocrisies and failings.
It’s probably why we’ve found each other here on substack. So we can seek shelter and rest whilst we dress our wounds together.
I believe when we don’t nurture this inner space (working the Soul?) then we seek to occupy the outer space more forcefully. This is why Twitter is such a cesspit. If Twittwer is the global community’s Town square then I’m more than happy be out here in the wilderness.