The roses of the Douro

Article in English 🇬🇧

I have been thinking about the speed at which the world is currently spinning, in what seems to be an out of control trajectory. The insanity that is taking over so many areas of life and so many lives is hard to keep at bay. What brings me solace often resides in the small and simple things and gestures. The neighbours who from their garden blow kisses to my dog and call him “o meu amor”, a nice cup of tea made and brought with love, a glimpse of kindness - wherever and whenever I witness or experience it. We all function and operate differently, we all cope dissimilarly. 

But are we coping? Isn’t it the rhetorical question of the moment. Observing the world right now, it is clear that we aren’t. If not already noticeable within ourselves, outwardly all the signs of an upcoming implosion of some sort are showing. Are we truly seeing the signs though? 

In the Douro valley, strict rules apply regarding the grapes and how to grow them, take care of them, pick them. If the vines get sick, they can’t just be treated chemically. It’s not that simple. So the approach to unforeseen issues is a proactive one which aims at detecting illnesses and problems way before they actually arise. The solution is roses. Roses aren’t just beautiful, they’re also sensitive. So much so that if anything isn’t as it should be in the soil, in the air, in their surroundings, the roses will say it long before the vines. Roses are the barometer and the guardians of the vineyards. Roses are to the vineyards what the canaries used to be to the coal mines.

 Why does the rose system work? It’s not for its zest of poetry and beauty. The reasons are twofold. People in charge of the vineyards pay attention, they care deeply. They look for the signs and know how to interpret them. When the signs appear, they take corrective action because they understand the consequences of not doing so. In other words, they know the price of not listening to the signals. 

How about us? Isn’t the world screaming at us from every direction at the moment? Aren’t we standing in fields of roses showing signs of distress or worse? 

We can’t throw ourselves in each and every battle worth fighting, but whether we are concerned about children’s rights, women’s rights, access to medical care, free speech, ecology, antisemitism, whales, democracy, just to name a few, the situation is alarming in many countries. We can’t reasonably not be aware of it. 

It can feel so pointless and a waste of time and energy to say anything, to write anything. What difference does it make when no one is listening? But can we afford to stop saying something? Even if it’s a murmur in a storm. Whether we’re a nobody (like yours truly) or someone with a voice that carries, such as the British author and journalist Douglas Murray, I believe in the importance of standing for discernment and accurate perception. Seeing the wood from the trees has become a necessity in our “post-truth” world. 

I feel like a parrot saying the same thing over and over again or like a cat chasing its own tale (mind you, my dog does that too) but I just wish more people realised this: It’s not because we don’t like what we see that we should look away or ignore it. It doesn’t work. It’s called avoidance, it doesn’t solve anything, it doesn’t make real issues go away or the perpetrators disappear.

Putting aside the fact that the democratic process is under attack by unprecedented worldwide corruption and is losing ground by the day, it doesn’t actually take a majority to make change. Good or bad. We know full well the minority who contribute to pollute, attack, poison, burn, rape and trample our fields of roses. It only takes a few to not let them, not a majority. 

We have a choice here. So where are we? What do we do? 

If we are passively hoping for someone else to solve our problems or if we are actively making our problems someone else's, we are deluded. 

I see so much righteousness. People have a talent to convince themselves they’re on the right side of whatever they feel, do, dispute or discuss only to behave like pins on a pin cushion. They think they’re the velvety cushion. They are, in fact, the pins. They think they’re the delicate scented petals. They are, in fact, thorns. 

Sometimes I wonder what it must be like for elderly people who have lived through so much, to know they’re near the end of their Earth journey and to see what they see, where we’re at. 

May an army of gardeners shield, protect and restore our fields of roses and honour the gardeners of the past who fought for what we’re about to lose if we do nothing.

Thank you for reading.
Mahé