Flowers for Russell/ Always Everything

I'm sitting in Bloomsbury Park by Russell Square. Not too far way, on the grass, there is a memorial—flowers, candles, cards, and sentiments for the victims from last week's explosions in London. People keep venturing there, absorbing it for extended periods of time. It's quite interesting to watch this human behaviour. I assume that most are random opportunistic spectators who are drawn by the commotion and colourful display. Drawn by curiosity and it is the nature of this curiosity that intrigues me.

Sometimes I fear that I’m heartless but surely, if I were to care deeply about everything, I would have nothing left within me to carry on even just basic survival. It would take too much out of me — the grief, the sorrow. So I gaze, somewhat distanced, across at the moving crowd.

What draws them?

Does the display remind them of their mortality? Does it remind them that, whatever they may be going through, it could be worse (presuming that most view death as a bad thing, which is also an unfortunate fact. And why does it take negative events to remind us of how positive every day and every breath is, or can be?)? Is it out of sympathy that that they are compelled to come and look?

Personally, I despise the concept of sympathy. One can never feel another’s pain unless they go through it exactly themselves, from the same perspective too. You can claim to ‘know’ how it feels but this knowledge is pieced together from social mores and probably from a lot of media absorption/propaganda. And what does sympathy do anyway? Nothing I can think of with any great consequence. The victim of your sympathy will probably not significantly alter their perception of you because of this expression. (I feel a lot of people extend their sympathies because it is “the right thing” to do. Because it is expected.) Actually, if you are indeed a close and special associate, they might begin to doubt your genuineness for, in my experience, overly-conscious sympathy comes across as phony as it can get! Just be there, as yourself. That’s all anyone should ever expect from you anyway.

So back to the commemoration in question. I cannot help but think that it is, after all, done in the spirit of exhibitionism. The families and friends of the victims have perhaps placed pictures and eulogies there for the world to see and feel their loss. Is it out of that common human drive to show and share your love. The families and friends may not live anywhere near this display. Its location is only guided by proximity to the scene of the crime. Who and what does that really serve? I don’t know. But then again, I feel that way about cemeteries too. Nowadays, with people being buried at cemetery grounds I wonder, why should I have to travel to ‘spend time’ with my deceased. That traditionally people were buried in their villages, near the homes that their families had and would continue to live for generations, makes a little more sense to me. However, nowadays with landlessness and movement being more the norm, that no longer holds. Why are we so fixated with physical space? So skeptical of and resistant to the intangible? Why do we limit ourselves so? Our people are with us everywhere and at every moment.

I would like to be cremated and have my ashes thrown in the Indian Ocean — left to travel to wherever they will. Left to once again become anonymous, just another in a universe of particles. Each relatively insignificant, nothing, and yet always everything. And that is what I can fathom to truly be a resting place.

I think I’ll take a close walk by this commemoration. Perhaps it will bring new insight and understanding.

For all the victims and their people — peace.