My name is Sunday Walsh. Apropos of nothing, I just had my first birthday. The relevance of that, apparently, is that the angle subtended by the Earth-sun system through the plane of the ecliptic is the same as that angle when I was born.
I'm writing this because Daddy has no ideas. Writer’s block, they call it. I can't have writer’s block, because I can’t write. I know some vowel sounds though, and I'm acquiring consonants. I can roll my ‘r’s (Argentinian nanny). Daddy can't do that.
Daddy has been through some rough times, lately. Not as rough as his close friend Robert (who could also roll his ‘r’s). Robert died a couple of weeks ago. Then, a couple of days ago, ‘out of the blue’, Daddy got a French knighthood – Chevalier des Artes et des Lettres. He was pretty chuffed about that. ‘An acknowledgement that Mona has some global reach’, he muttered.
But (and this is the genesis of his writer’s block), how can he be happy and feel pride (it's a ‘deadly sin’, after all), when his friends have suffered? In fact, does he have the right to feel joy while there is suffering in the world? All philosophers and priests grapple with this, and I'm not the one to resolve it, since I spend all my time blissfully free of the burden of knowledge (my uncle put it this way: ‘my biggest problem what to eat, my biggest love my sister[s]’). Daddy seems to think he has insight into all this. But in the here and now, he doesn't know how to resolve his personal conflicts.
Pride can burn through all that is worthy. Stop giving Daddy prizes, or he might turn into a right royal prick. I need Daddy to be nice to me for a few more years.
But he still wants to be a member of the Order of the Elephant.
Donald Gillett | August 8, 2016 at 09:08 pm
Dear David,
As a sometime visitor to MONA I am chuffed that you received that richly-deserved French knighthood. But do not worry about hubris: I seem to recall that the French screwed Syria after WWI, collaborated with the Nazis in sending Jewish children to the gas chambers, and blew up the Rainbow Warrior. States, like human individuals, have feet of clay. Therefore the gift of your knighthood is tainted by human frailty. Honours are part of the game; that knighthood can be your calling card, but it's not the real you.
As regards writers block, please don't feel obliged to mechanically churn out a column for the benefit of the unknown public in cyberspace. Leave that sort of obligation to hacks. Actions speak louder than words, and yours in creating MONA etc speak eloquently.
It is self evident that one must not fail to enjoy any happiness that comes ones way, for the simple reason that it can all disappear in a trice. And what of the suffering of others? I can only suggest that if you can help even one fellow creature in this life, you have done something to alleviate the balance between suffering and happiness.
Best wishes,
Don.
(London, U.K).