I would love to think − both as a writer and as a runner in the symbolic Human Race − that The Age of Aquarius will bring, in its Uranus-inspired wake, an end to the whole concept of the Super Power.
Now, I am not saying that there is anything wrong with competition per se; indeed, it can be a healthy and inspiring part of our lives. After all, many advances in the fields of medicine, science and art could not have happened without that spirit of inquisitive rivalry.
Human beings seem to have a natural wish to compete against each other – and, I am quite sure, it has its uses in terms of Natural Selection, the continuation of the species, and so forth.
What I do object to, however, is the ‘I am the King of The Castle; You’re the Dirty Rascal’ mindset which has spread its malign tentacles so far into our Global Society that we hardly notice the daily pinching and painful damage these flailing limbs do.
We are so conditioned to think in terms of being the best, the top dog, the most powerful nation, the prize winning artist, the number 1 hit, that we gleefully and arrogantly elbow anyone seen as a threat out of the way. Why, we even saw the rungs of the metaphorical ladder in half, or push it violently away from its niche against life’s rough wall, so that no one else can climb!
We bask in the glory of our elitist status at the top of the tree! We look down upon those poor souls below – quite good in their way, aren’t they? But they lack our soaring genius, don’t they? So they can just stay where they are and peer, with pointless longing, up at the feet they are not worthy to lick.
But, the whole logic behind being Top (whether it be canine or continent) is that, de facto, there is a bigger and bigger gap between us and reality. We come to believe in our own hype, our media-tweaked back, front and side stories.
The Moon-silvered tide is turning, gently but inexorably, however. The lunar rays are trained upon a more collaborative stream: a body of water which flows in all directions, is impartial, and allows all to drink from, and bathe in, its milky-gilt depths.
In Mediaeval times, the castle was home to many – and a huge variety of different people brought their individual skills to bear in this thriving, busy community. In this sense, the castle was more like the hub, the still centre of the buzzing bee hive.
I am encouraged, and touched, by the shoots of green hope springing up all over the World Wide Net – and, in my second career as writer, particularly those wells of communication that relate to my life-long love of the written word. How truly blessed we are to have communal sites appearing: sites like The Writer's Drawer, which are not looking for King, Queen, Emperor or Empress; sites which are offering all the members of my metaphorical castle their chance to shine.
Support networks are also burgeoning, the way they did in Virginia Woolf’s day. Writers are writing to one another about their posts, books, articles, plays and poems; writers are connecting, and sharing the power between them; writers are encouraging one another to write and to be seen, read and heard.
As above, so below: Maybe the time for Power as a maiming and murderous orc has passed! Maybe we do not need to kill – either physically or one another’s reputations – in order to shine, get the most votes, dominate. Maybe we can share the Earth’s bounty – the way writers are trying to do within their own field – fairly and equally between us. So that everyone has their moment in the spotlight, their individual chance to smile and dance and rejoice!
Read Alienora's blogs at http://alienorajt.blogspot.co.il/