Blog description.

Accentuating the Liberal in Classical Liberal: Advocating Ascendency of the Individual & a Politick & Literature to Fight the Rise & Rise of the Tax Surveillance State. 'Illigitum non carborundum'.

Liberty and freedom are two proud words that have been executed from the political lexicon: they were frog marched and stood before a wall of blank minds, then forcibly blindfolded, and shot, with the whimpering staccato of ‘equality’ and ‘fairness’ resounding over and over. And not only did this atrocity go unreported by journalists in the mainstream media, they were in the firing squad.

The premise of this blog is simple: the Soviets thought they had equality, and welfare from cradle to grave, until the illusory free lunch of redistribution took its inevitable course, and cost them everything they had. First to go was their privacy, after that their freedom, then on being ground down to an equality of poverty only, for many of them their lives as they tried to escape a life behind the Iron Curtain. In the state-enforced common good, was found only slavery to the prison of each other's mind; instead of the caring state, they had imposed the surveillance state to keep them in line. So why are we accumulating a national debt to build the slave state again in the West? Where is the contrarian, uncomfortable literature to put the state experiment finally to rest?

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Friday, April 5, 2013

Sad Farewell to Blogger, Diana Neutze.

I only knew Diana through her blog,  which I’ve been following for some time now. The concept of her blog was simple, to blog and post her poetry about living, and dying, with MS, over the last 40 years. Her achievement was immense. There are two words that sum up her poetry for me, first honest, sometimes brutally, then beautiful.

Diana died 4.00am Thursday morning.

I hope her blog and poetry site are both kept going; in case not, however, I recommend a few contemplative hours reading them.

Condolences to Diana’s family and close friends.

Diana’s poem below is one of my favourites, because it shows despite the disease, she was living life on her terms:

I have sprung a leak, am taking on water.
Perhaps in my sleep, I drifted across
a ragged rock or coral reef.
It's not yet dangerous: no sound
of swooshing in the hold.
But it's only a matter of time.
I have presented myself
with an arbitrary date: forty weeks,
a spiritual pregnancy.
The bell rang for my birth and marriage;
it's time now for the third bell.

I have to learn how to die,
to die with dignity; not sign off 
a snarky, snivelling wretch.
I am practicing stoicism.
I am loving more deeply
the things that matter: visits from friends,
music, light on the walnut tree.
It's been several years since I have seen
the night sky; so I will be taken out 
to drink my fill of moon and stars.
“Virgin namesake, moon-Queen at night fall.”
Or, the Duchess of Malfi's magic words:
“Look you, the star shines still.”

My mind wavers and I wonder at times 
whether I can retain my stubbornness.
But then I remember the hardship
of each days waking,
remember I can no longer consent
to the pain and endurance,
nor transform them into any
meaningful pattern.

I am asked whether I will find it hard
to say goodbye.  But, consider
how many times I have already said it:
feeding, cleaning, dressing myself
turning over in bed
walking, singing, playing the piano,
cooking, stitching my tapestry,
hugging my friends from their or my need.
The list could go on forever.

I have lived, so far, nearly three 
of the forty weeks yet to come.
There will be only one ending,
an ending I must learn to trust.

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