Episode 103 - It’s In Our Hands

It is Wednesday, named for Woden, Odin, he of the one baleful eye. With it, even without the parallax view, he would see that today is a golden coin, unearthed from the ploughed field of autumn. Bright, chill to the touch, marvellous. I reach down to pick it up.

Whose face glints on it? Minerva, goddess of wisdom, justice, law, trade, victory, crafts, sponsor of the arts, patron of trade and of strategy. On its reverse, the day-coin sports a basket, miniature ridged and woven weavers form the bas-relief image of ancient-yet-still-current containment in fingertip-tempting texture. I run my right index finger over it and sigh through a smile. It is easier to describe the muse-currency of my mind’s eye than it is to gather all today’s thoughts into its basket, but I must try.

We will need craft, strategy and wisdom if we are to attain victory against dehumanising forces, both over us, in the mad rush towards transhumanism and the technological panopticon our states all seem to crave. But we will also need these qualities against the dehumanising forces inside ourselves, the ones that scapegoat others, insist on ‘us’ and ‘them’, or conversely, inwardly berate ourselves as worthless and unworthy. Beauty, belonging and beloved-ness (giving and receiving love) are our birth rights. Connexion is the natural state of affairs. How has this been so comprehensively foiled, so quickly? How can we cultivate, grow and share our remedies?

By now, you will have noticed how the net has tightened. Once seemingly everyday tasks, simply performed, now require the kind of digital form-filling fitting, perhaps, for someone who has witnessed a crime, and must recount to the authorities every inconsequential detail, and yet, even after doing so, feels somehow complicit despite not personally being party to any wrongdoing. Posting a book to a friend abroad yesterday became a two hour project in the tolerance of fastidious yet strangely inexact classifications. Drop down menus opened little trap doors in my mind: which mood is the machine trying to conjure? You may choose from annoyance, irritation, ennui, rage, confusion, doubt, exhaustion or exasperation. You may not uncheck the box which reads ‘you will experience the sensation of being watched and measured at all times’.

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This week I finally put down my copy of Against the Machine by Paul Kingsnorth after an interrupted month which meant a slow reading pace was all that life and health allowed. It was no bad thing to be forced to read and ponder, rather than devour a book in my usual manner. In the front of my copy, Paul has inscribed ‘for Caro, fellow warrior!’ But I have not felt like much of a warrior of late. Today the low golden slanting rays and the boldness of my friends’ and co-conspirators’ words and actions, in writing, art and community building, give me the inspiration to get back to my practice.

What is that practice? Perhaps I will never have the definitive words1 to describe the what of ‘the work that is mine to do in the world’ but I know where the work is situated, at the crossroads of embodied work, hand craft, writing and the way of nature2. An important part of this crossroads is that it is a public place, where others pass through. The paths I am interested in are not just for me.

This week my new-old path became clear again and I stepped back onto it. If you’d like to walk along some of it with me, you’ll be most welcome.

This podcast was first published here on Substack on October 30th 2025, with full transcript, images, links and footnotes.

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