Vigilant, energetic and courageous
strategy and hope
Hello and welcome to this week’s story from Vineyard Tales. I can’t believe we are in March already. We haven’t had as much sun as we usually do for this time of year and the vines are still sleeping. This week’s tale was yet another one inspired by my walks and the people I meet in the countryside.
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‘The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace’
—Mahatma Ghandi
I’m sitting on the drystone wall sipping ginger tea. A grey sky sulks above and the wind is howling, I probably have a few minutes left before the wind will stiffen my fingers and drag me away from my words.
A car appears from the farm gate rushing along the lane towards me. I stay still and out of the way on the old wall that’s no higher than my knees. Luckily the driver has seen me and is kind. I am grateful he slows down enough so the dust from the wheels doesn’t fly up and choke me. He speeds up when he has passed. I don’t know why, but I turn to watch the car go over the brow of the hill which is when I see its red break-lights slam on. Odd, I thought, because there was nothing, no other car in sight that I could see.
I am about to look at my phone when I hear footsteps crunching on gravel. Suddenly I realise there is a dog walker just three meters away. I turn. A man in his sixties is leaning with all his bodyweight steeply away from me pulling backwards towards the wall, and in his hands, a thick leather leash and a mighty, fully-grown, glossy black, Doberman that looks very hungry for my scent.
It is a tug-of-war and the owner is losing. Despite the man’s attempts, the dog is pulling the two of them closer and closer towards me. It has a muzzle over its sharp teeth with a solid grill. I desperately hope the muzzle is securely fastened. The man looks pale and pained, annoyed even, that I would have the audacity to sit on a wall on the same path he has chosen today. As he scowls, the creases in his frown run deeper still. He is no taller or broader than me and looks too anxious to speak.
It looks as if one more tug and the Doberman could wrestle free of its owner. I resist the urge to flee in case it makes the dog jolt finally out of his grasp. There is nowhere to go and I couldn’t outrun it if I tried. I stay still, feeling very much like prey and pretend I am calm. For my safety I oppose my natural instinct to run for it. I am reminded of the game, ‘Call my Bluff’.
As the dog gets nearer my heart starts to race. The memory of a Doberman nearly biting off my arm in our kitchen in London decades ago, flashes across my mind. I force myself to concentrate on the present; one Doberman at a time is enough!
To my amazement I manage to hold out and they start to pass me. I begin to relax but the guy stops abruptly in his path, only about eight meters away from me and makes the Doberman lie down. It looks like he wants to teach it obedience but instead the dog takes advantage of the moment. Instead of cowering and looking at its owner for forgiveness, or at the ground riddled in guilt? It turns its head slowly, too slowly and stares at me. Its small eyes look deep, very deep into mine. It is a haunting look. I can’t read it, but warm and loving, it isn’t.
I suppress a desire to shudder. I am too vulnerable to ask if the guy might discipline his dog further away. I can’t help feeling that the dog is too old to be taught this way anyway. The dog doesn’t seem to have been socialised, deliberately maybe. I am sure this is a guard dog. The guy looks exhausted. I almost feel sorry for him and am hit by a sense of irony; he went out of his way to choose a Doberman for his own self-protection and peace of mind, and yet now a simple walk in the countryside is full of stress and danger. The man’s frown talks of frustration, anger, regret all scrunched into one. His plan backfired, his attempt at control is looking very much on the verge of going AWOL, maybe not today, although today is close enough for me.
Luckily the lesson is quick. I stay still, unsure how much longer I can keep up the masquerade. Maybe the guy has realised that he is too close as well and finishes the lesson fast. The dog gets up and they walk away down the track, the leash as taught as ever. A few meters more and I breathe a deep sigh of relief.
I reach for my tea. I realise my mouth has gone dry. My phone pings. It’s a timely text from my uncle about how the world is in the hands of thugs and bullies. I nod, feeling very much in agreement.
Then I read a post from an inspiring wildlife photographer saying goodbye to Instagram. I am sad they are leaving. Their work was beautiful. They say they feel it is their duty to leave in protest, as they are opposed to recent Meta mission statement details, but what if staying put is the safest option?
I tap on the link my uncle sends. It’s Richard Gere making a speech while collecting his award. He is saying how we all need to be careful. He talks about a ‘slippery slope of authoritarianism’ that is ‘happening in many places’ and that we need to be ‘vigilant, brave, energetic and courageous’. I never thought the star of ‘Pretty Woman’ would get three hundred thousand likes overnight for a public speech standing up for a more caring world. In twenty-four hours, the speech, in the clip I saw alone, has been re-sent forty-two thousand times.
The message came from Instagram via Watsap, and of course, both are owned by Meta. The text message reads, ‘there is a feeling that a sense of reason is returning’. Yes, what a relief it is to hear something positive. Gere’s speech makes me think that we might well be stronger and more positive if we stay connected. We can stand up for what’s right, loving and sharing, together.
I know billionaires can outrun the likes of me. I know Meta, Amazon, and Apple, to name but a few, are on a power scale we haven’t seen before. We are in unchartered territory and our instincts will tell us how to respond but maybe there is more than one way of playing safe?
Could leaving Meta make the situation worse? As if we could outrun billionaires anyway! As if losing a few million accounts would even leave a dent in their wealth! When we see the red lights, surely ‘the resistance’ is strengthened by being connected, rather than breaking away and fracturing into millions of fragmented, hurting pieces?
Or maybe I am asking the wrong question. It might be better to ask what alternatives are there to Meta, to keep us all united in the name of peace?
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‘It isn’t enough to talk about peace.
One must believe in it.
And it is not enough to believe in it.
One must work at it’.
—Eleanor Roosevelt.
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Some peaceful moments from February:
Thanks Pipp, belated as usual but as heartfelt as ever.
You were brave to sit out the doberman daggers... I have been bitten by farm dogs so many times now I carry a stick, always! I have strong feelings about the owners of guard dogs which are probably best left unsaid, suffice to say, training is everything, knowing who might be a threat and who isn't, your man seemed at least to be trying.
Great news about your book, you're amazing! two books in two years, not even! bloody well done lovely! xxx
Enjoyed reading this and feeling an all too rare sense of hope. Hoping with you Pipp xx