I have to go to court today to hear the joyless news that I will be kicked out of my flat/appartment.
It is, needless to say, my own fault as I have got behind with my rent.
However, I am in a position to pay off my arrears and, because I now have a regular income, will be able to maintain payments for the foreseeable future.
I have lived here for ten years. The longest I have lived anywhere in my life. It means nothing. The fact I can pay my back rent means nothing. I as an individual am nothing. My worth is defined purely by numbers on a balance sheet.
My personal problem is nothing compared to those faced by millions across the globe. I try to keep it in context.
That said, my problem is similar insofar as it is symptomatic of an attitude that reduces people purely to an arbitrary paper value. The only transcendental worth today is money, a social construct of material exchange that now measures every step of every individual on the planet as though we were all machines incapable of emotion or fault.
The true wonder of humanity, to me, is its capability of making mistakes. Of being wrong. If it were not so, if we had lost our endless curiosity, and hence our fallibility, we would never have progressed. We would certainly not be worthy of love. We say we love this or that machine, but do we? Do you really love your computer? Your car? Your washing-up machine?
Love is not born out of the perfection of the person, but the imperfections. It gives us our point of contact. We can understand the other because we can identify the faults that we recognise in ourselves. Or we believe we can. It makes the other human, like ourselves. It makes the other endearing. It makes us endearing. Capable of being understood. Capable of love.
I will let you know how it goes. I will also, as promised, blog about the wonderful holiday I had at Stuart and Gabrielle's heaven in France.
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