A Bow to Two Carols

This post is inspired by a recent re-post of a wise-child become wise-elder, Carol A. Hand

History Keeps Repeating – A Reblog ‹ Voices from the Margins

She’s the kind of wise woman I’d love to know. Not because I think we are political allies, or ideological twins—we are not. She sometimes writes about Native American issues and social justice, two movements I might’ve supported as a young woman, but which I truly believe now have been co-opted by dark forces for corrupt gains.

She’s a strong believer in community; I covet individualism. I can tell from her posts she’s a kind person who wishes to engender a spirit of generosity and love in the world; I grow increasingly curmudgeon-like with age, and I like it that way, perhaps too much.

But what we have in common, I sense, is so deep that none of that would matter. In another time and place I suspect we would become great friends.

Short of putting words in her mouth, I’d say she believes mankind needs to soften up, whereas I believe we need to toughen up.

We are probably both right. Ever heard of the Gentle Giant? Those who are truly tough very rarely show it. They don’t have to. They don’t need to carry a big stick and they can afford to speak softly.

It’s the power-addicted peons who most often need to strut their stuff. Their Napoleon complex ensures they never truly feel power unless others are cowering and groveling before them—masked, impotent, willing dupes in their own demise, and therefore unable to remind the petty tyrants of their own impotence.

When adults—as in parents, teachers, preachers, politicians—teach children “Christian values” like ‘don’t hit, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t cheat’ and then model the exact opposite of that by supporting wars of aggression for their own material interests or petty revenge, forcing others to bow to tyranny in order to safeguard their own comfort levels, coercing others to do their dirty work, exploiting and abusing their power—they are creating the adolescent malcontents who then are forced into a double-bind—in effect forcing them to either support the charade as fellow hypocrites, or rebel against it in a myriad of destructive ways.

This is called “Adultism” because real adults protect children, not make slaves of them. They walk their talk. They don’t sit around like a Miss Muffet on her Tuffet while barking orders at others.

I’m reminded here of my all-time favorite play.
Tartuffe by Moliere:
Tartuffe, ou L’Imposteur was also performed at Versailles, in 1664, and created the greatest scandal of Molière’s artistic career. Its depiction of the hypocrisy of the dominant classes was taken as an outrage and violently contested. It also aroused the wrath of the Jansenists and the play was banned.”

From Act 1, Scene II (in a marvelous translation by Richard Wilbur) is it not poignant in its Universal and timeless appeal?!

“In the late troubles, he played an able part
And served his king with wise and loyal heart,
But he’s quite lost his sense since he fell
Beneath Tartuffe’s infatuating spell.
He calls him brother, and loves him as his life,
Preferring him to mother, child, or wife.
In him and him alone will he confide;
He’s made him his confessor and his guide;
He pets and pampers him with love more tender
Than any pretty mistress could engender,
Gives him the place of honor when they dine,
Delights to see him gorging like a swine,
Stuffs him with dainties till his guts distend,
And when he belches, cries, “God bless you, friend!”
In short, he’s mad; he worships him; he dotes;
His deeds he marvels at, his words he quotes,
Thinking each act a miracle, each word
Oracular as those that Moses heard.
Tartuffe, much pleased to find so easy a victim,
Has in a hundred ways beguiled and tricked him,
Milked him of money, and with his permission
Established here a sort of Inquisition.
Even Laurent, his lackey, dares to give
Us arrogant advice on how to live;
He sermonizes us in thundering tones
And confiscates our ribbons and colognes.
Last week he tore a kerchief into pieces
Because he found it pressed in A Life of Jesus:
He said it was a sin to juxtapose
Unholy vanities and holy prose.”

As synchronicity would have it, as I was writing this I took a break to listen to another wise Carol, who I listen to almost daily At ‘Never Lose Truth’ channel.

I don’t know her either, but I truly cherish her work. She just happened to post a fairly scathing rebuke of Christian hypocrites that fits right in line with this post. Some call her ‘bitter’, Hubby calls her ‘Crazy Carol’ and asks I turn her off when he’s in the room. But in her I hear my own frustrations, my own futile battles, my own refusal to break, and I find such mirroring very inspiring and very necessary to my peace of mind.

We are each doing what we feel must be done in the only way we know how.

Thank you, two Carols, for your very different approaches to the very same problems, and for giving me a much welcomed sense of soul-sisterhood.

Author: KenshoHomestead

Creatively working toward self-sufficiency on the land.

8 thoughts on “A Bow to Two Carols”

  1. Wow, Carol, thank you, I aspire to deserve such praise! The only other more gracious compliment I could imagine is, “You are a marvelous cook.” So, if you ever find yourself in East TX . . . ! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh yes, I remember now reading and liking this one, and what a pleasure to revisit it in this context. I can picture it well and am always amazed by those memories that survive in us so strongly, stamped in the psyche somehow, that we seek them for meaning again and again. This struck me as a poignant example: “So instead, I became quiet. I learned not to appear too smart – to avoid drawing any attention to myself. But it was too late. I had already learned that those of us who are not kings cannot remain silent forever. If we don’t find effective ways to rein-in kings, things will never change.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you so much for your kind words, Kensho, and for sharing powerful insights and connections with such eloquence. Your kindness brought tears to my eyes – “what we have in common, I sense, is so deep that none of that would matter. In another time and place I suspect we would become great friends.” It suspect that’s true, too.

    And I loved the excerpt from Moliere’s Tartuffe. It reminded me so much of “The Fool’s Prayer” by Edward Sill that I long ago recited to my third grade class, eagerly expecting a spirited dialogue (https://voices-from-the-margins.blog/2014/01/03/the-fools-prayer/). Of course, that didn’t happen, but I still sometimes forget it’s rare to find people who can weave a deeper sense of shared sisterhood despite very different vantage points. I am humbly grateful for the times I discover it’s still possible and thank you for reminding me in your beautiful post. 💜

    Liked by 2 people

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