"Suffering is the pain of constraints. An atom of pure delight, no matter how small, will hold it at bay. To work on the side of delight and authentic festivity can hardly be distinguished from preparing for a general insurrection.
In our times, people are invited to take part in a gigantic hunt with myths and received ideas as quarry, but for safety’s sake they are sent without weapons, or, worse, with paper weapons of pure speculation, into the swamp of constraints where they finally stick. Perhaps we will get our first taste of delight by pushing the ideologists of demystification in front of us, so that we can see how they make out, and either take advantage of their exploits or advance over their bodies.
As Rosanov says, men are crushed under the wardrobe. Without lifting up the wardrobe it is impossible to deliver whole peoples from their endless and unbearable suffering. It is terrible that even one man should be crushed under such a weight: to want to breathe, and not to be able to. The wardrobe rests on everybody, and everyone gets his inalienable share of suffering. And everybody tries to lift up the wardrobe, but not with the same conviction, not with the same energy. A curious groaning civilization.
Thinkers ask themselves: “What? Men under the wardrobe? However did they get there?” All the same, they got there. And if someone comes along and proves in the name of objectivity that the burden can never be removed, each of his words adds to the weight of the wardrobe, that object which he means to describe with the universality of his ‘objective consciousness’. And the whole Christian spirit is there, fondling suffering like a good dog and handing out photographs of crushed but smiling men. “The rationality of the wardrobe is always the best”, proclaim the thousands of books published every day to be stacked in the wardrobe. And all the while everyone wants to breathe and no-one can breathe, and many say “We will breathe later”, and most do not die, because they are already dead.
DONKEY DAYS
By Shadow
Album: Shadow Enchanted, T&T, 1995
Back in the days of the pitch oil lamp
When girl was darling, boy was scamp
Stealing mangoes in the dark
The black cock crow and the bulldog bark
Those were the days of the donkey cart
The donkey story breaks my heart
Donkey working all day long
A donkey's work was never done
You think it easy for a poor donkey
To be transport for a family?
He got to tote up the mango
He got to tote up the cocoa
He got to tote up the dry wood
He got to tote up the green wood.
And then big belly man want to jump on his back
Fat belly man want to jump on his back
Thin belly man want to jump on his back
All dem wind belly man want to jump on his back.
Donkey had no rest time, no no, still after sunset time
As soon as he wake up, he had no time for makeup
Because fat bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Black bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Thin bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Wind bumsee boy want to go for a ride
On the poor little donkey [they want a ride]
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah
I sorry for the donkey [they want a ride]
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Those were the days of the La Diablesse
The pretty, pretty girl with the long, long dress
She would watch you in your eyes
She would have you hypnotise
Take you down to a lonely place
Show you she cow foot, skin up she face
The only escape for you got to be a miracle.
Donkey never send you to look for girl
Donkey got to come to your funeral
He got to tote up your coffin
All your big belly soften
All your muddy-up sliders
Plus a lot of joy riders
Big belly man want to jump on his back
All dem fat belly man want to jump on his back
Thin belly man want to jump on his back
A lot of wind belly man want to jump on his back.
Donkey had no rest time, no no, still after sunset time
As soon as he wake up, he had no time for makeup
Because fat bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Black bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Thin bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Wind bumsee boy want to go for a ride.
Poor little donkey [they want a ride]
Pretty little donkey [they want a ride]
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
All dem fat bumsee boy
All dem black bumsee boy
All dem thin bumsee boy
All dem wind bumsee boy [they want a ride]
Those were the days of the Jumbie man
They used to come back from down Jumbie land
Face to face with your cousin, Joe
You went to his funeral a long time ago
He stretch out his hand to give you a shake
Is another corner you looking to take
You run so fast, you fall in the grass
More work for the poor jackass.
He got to tote up your body
And fus your big belly heavy
Plus your muddy-up sliders
Plus a lot of joy riders
Big belly man want to jump on his back
Fat belly man want to jump on his back
Thin belly man want to jump on his back
Wind belly man want to jump on his back
Donkey had no rest time, no no, still after sunset time
As soon as he wake up, he had no time for makeup
Because fat bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Black bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Thin bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Wind bumsee boy want to go for a ride
Poor little donkey [they want a ride]
Yeah, yeah, yeah [they want a ride]
All dem fat bumsee boy
All dem black bumsee boy
All dem thin bumsee boy
All dem wind bumsee boy [they want a ride]
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey, yeah, yeah
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey, yeah, yeah
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey
All dem fat bumsee boy [they want a ride]
All dem black bumsee boy [they want a ride]
All dem thin bumsee boy [they want a ride]
All dem wind bumsee boy [they want a ride]
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey, yeah yeah
Gimme me a ride on yuh donkey
Poor little donkey, yeah [they want a ride]
Poor little donkey [they want a ride]
All dem fat bumsee boy
All dem black bumsee boy...
Source: The lyrics posted on this blog are often transcribed directly from performances. Although it is my intention to faithfully transcribe I do not get all the words and I have a knack for hearing the wrong thing. Please feel free to correct me or to fill in the words that I miss by dropping me a message via e-mail. I'd be forever grateful. Thanks in advance!
These days I cannot seem to get enough of Shadow's "Donkey Days". This world seems to be roiling with a deep unease manifesting in catastrophes, wars and rumours of wars, the "godly" caught left, right and centre with their pants around their ungodly ankles, politicians possessed by a determination to prove to all (who are paying attention) that they are in fact even more ignorant and destructive than we imagined them to be. So maybe "Donkey Days" sums it all up for me. The poor little donkey represents Gaia - groaning creation patiently suffering the unreasonable demands and unthinking assaults we've been increasingly piling on its back. The donkey can also represent all the long suffering citizens of this country and of this world who take and take and take. I've heard about the camel's back and the straw that broke it, but what will it take for the donkey to say, "No more!" So the headphones hug my ears and the volume is at maximum as I listen to "Donkey Days" over and over and over... It is not escapism, I don't think. It is my way of channeling my reflections while reducing the cacophony around me to one unifying, hypnotic rhythm. Everything is connected. I will say again and again that The Shadow's work is pure genius.
"Patria est communis omnium parens" - Our native land is the common parent of us all. Keep it beautiful, make it even more so.
Blessed is all of creation
Blessed be my beautiful people
Blessed be the day of our awakening
Blessed is my country
Blessed are her patient hills.
Lord, Please walk beside me through this day. Clear the heavy air with the lightness of Your Presence. Guide my hands and steady my heart that I may give comfort when I cannot give hope, that I may give relief when I do not have a cure, and that I may radiate Your healing peace when the limits of science, time, and the human body overwhelm us all. Amen
Source
Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio, cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto præsídium. Ímperet ílli Déus, súpplices deprecámur: tuque, prínceps milítiæ cæléstis, Sátanam aliósque spíritus malígnos, qui ad perditiónem animárum pervagántur in múndo, divína virtúte, in inférnum detrúde. Ámen
