Ask the Priestess

When we try to express 'great' without using words, we tend to use our hands, to create an expansive arm movement, as if to encompass an outburst of whatever. We also tend to finish in a certain double-shake, as if implying gravity, a solid weight, were part and parcel of greatness. But Greatness is so much more, how can we limit it to size, to stature, to weight, to dimension? Take, for example, the phrase 'a great person'. Does a great person need to be tall, heavy, and generally imposing? Nah, not really. If that were the case, people such as Mahatma Gandhi would not deserve the adjective. Same goes for people like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Jesus Christ, or Socrates, to mention but a few. Another example: what do you have to do to have 'a great time'? Little, really. Mostly it's a matter of spending time with people you love, doing things you enjoy despite the economic or social impact they may have, and generally enjoying life for and as it is. Yo...

We all know what 'to feel at home' means. What is less clear is what 'home' really is. For some, home is where the heart is; for others, wherever they lay their hats; of maybe it's sweet Alabama; for Jack, it's probably the house he built; and so on. What, and/or where, is your home? And mine? I've just spent a few days back in the city where I grew up, back in the flats where, all in all, I've lived most of my life - or for the longest stretches, at least. It was thus bittersweet to realise that, at no point in that visit, did I feel 'home'. I certainly felt loved, welcome, comfortable, all the while happy not to suffer the pangs of homesickness. I knew where things were, and the people and animals showed their love (if in my family/friends circle) or kindness (if not in it). Still, I felt 'alien', a mere tourist to those spaces. Why? For one thing, it's become obvious that, for me, home is not a matter of people. As I...

I do not believe in capitalism. In fact, although I understand the logic behind using money, we have made such a horror off it, than I would rather see it disappear so we could try and manage without it. Tough, but fair - real need for real need, and all within our means. Now, one of the things that put me on the trail of the horror of money is the concept of meanness, and of showing love. And, as any horror, it could be a story... Once upon a time, people realised they had different gifts and values. Of course, there was the lordship and the church, but they were not people. People were the ones who worked, who produced, who knew the value of things: one bushel of barley = x hours of backbreaking work in the fields; one dress = y hours of blinding weaving and sewing; and so on. Most of all, they knew the value of family, of children, of neighbour. These people were not necessarily nice,  mind you. Sometimes they fought, they hurt each other, they could be violent and criminal...