Sundays at Speaker's Corner

A London tradition

Hyde Park sits between several well known neighborhoods in London. On Sundays speakers bring out their soap boxes and share their opinions on a multitude of topics here at this small tip of Hyde Park known as ‘Speaker’s Corner’. Some are enthralling, others entertaining, and the rest inflammatory or just plain weird. Something for everyone.

This place, here, our literary platform, is our very own Speaker’s Corner. And, my question is do any of these words that you are, or more likely, others are not reading really matter? After all, most people who encounter what I write won’t read it.

Let’s face it, topics like energetic frequency, grit, determination (not the Tony Robbins kind but more Michael Easter kind), what is reality really, as well as my philosophical and spiritual odds and ends are not really trending topics.

If you don’t know or care that ‘The Matrix’ was metaphor and that ‘Star Wars’ was based on very specific, ancient spiritual principals, then this particular soapbox probably won’t attract or keep you.

So, does any of this really matter? I am being serious. Does it?

The past few days for me have been hard, unbeknownst to, well…everyone.

I have recently felt like a particular speaker who stood nearest Marblehead station I encountered one afternoon a few years back. He stood there in pressed jeans, a button down and a blue Helly Hansen rain shell. He spoke with precision and passion to the largely empty black ribbon of tarmac which rings and criss-crosses one of London’s most iconic greens-Hyde Park. His words reached just a few random passer’s by and the otherwise the empty pavement. Other speakers just up from him had collected crowds of various sizes, a few sizable, but not him.

He wasn’t a crackpot. He didn’t show up with a gallon of petrol and some matches, nor was he spooning out feel-good platitudes. Rather, he was eloquently linking philosophical concepts to aspects of modern life. Today he was deep into the commonality between Plato’s Cave and spending 8–10 hours a day on mobile devices and in social media apps, laying out what the potential lessons and implications and unintended consequences might be.

He was also weaving into the concept the spike in depression, anxiety and loneliness. Deftly, as a conductor would, he brought in on perfect cue, notions like perception and the importance of breadth of experiences. Some of which, he emphasized, should be uncomfortable to the experiencer. He posed these questions to no one. His words thoughtful, insightful and with an edge of warning but ringing empty across his unpopulated space.

It was kind of sad really, standing there outside his sphere, watching him from a distance. One or two people would stop every few minutes or migrate over from the guy wearing horns and swim goggles railing about how aliens have infiltrated the British Government. These few would listen for a moment or two before becoming distracted by their phones and wandering off.

Every once and a while I caught the lone speaker’s eye. He knew I was listening and watching from afar. Eventually, he took a break, stepped down from a well-worn water stained wooden box with the word ‘PIERCE’ carefully written on the side in Sharpie. He bee-lined to me, yet he seemed in no hurry.

“What are your thoughts, sir?” he asked as he approached, using ‘sir’ even though he was a decade or so older than me. He used it easily and without formality, more as an adjective.

I answered that I was not yet sure. I spun it back to him, asking if it bothered him that he hadn’t attracted a crowd.

He laughed and shook his head. “No sir! You see, I don’t do this for them. I do it for me.” I was puzzled.

He continued that speaking out loud was simply an exercise for him, like writing is for many. He did it to help him sift through the concepts he felt important to pay attention to and dive more deeply into. Speaking helped him organize his curiosity, knowing what to keep, store for later, or throw away he said. I liked that.

Turns out he had a couple of Ph.D.’s, one from Imperial College in Physics and the other from London School of Theology in Philosophy and another in Theology. Smart guy. He didn’t advertise that though. He made me work for that knowledge, dropping clues to a much deeper well of understanding here and there. On the surface, he appeared wholly ordinary, as many of us do. Passing him by, you’d never notice him.

He told me he believed that most people don’t want to think about abstract concepts. Speaker’s corner was where he tried things on for size. He explained that most seek an easier route to making sense of their worlds, and therefore question or understand very little.

He told me he had been doing this for quite some time and he had seen in increase in what he referred to as ‘mental numbness’. He equated his observation to two British institutions, seeing Monty Python live back in the day (his comparison) versus watching Benny Hill on the ‘BoobTube’ (his words) at the local pub.

The first required active mental participation to fully appreciate what was playing out. The latter didn’t. It was simply what it was. Entertaining, yet empty calories.

Both are perfectly fine he pointed out almost apologetically. “ There is a place for each.” However without experiencing the variety, there could be no real understanding. “Understanding of what?” I asked. “Whatever you fancy.” He replied.

He continued, that he spoke to, and for, his own benefit and pleasure.

If someone got benefit from his words, all the better. His point was that if he could improve his ideas at the same time as getting 2 people each Sunday to change their perception or perspective in ways that improved their lives, that he had done his job and was fulfilling his Purpose (capital ‘P’).

He left the entertainment or incitement to others. There is plenty of that, he said, brushing it away mid-air with his hand. “I have nothing new or different to offer to contribute to that. So I don’t.”

He continued, “what I say is what I think and what I think, I have learned and believe or alternatively know to be true. However, I do have to work to make my topics something others might want to hear, if they are open to it.”

He left me with that and walked back to his box. I have never forgotten what he told me. It was something I have kept, knowing I would have use for it later.

I started this a by article by saying its been a rough few days for me. I was wondering if the time I spend on this platform mattered. I was ruminating on why I was stuck at just under 90 subscribers and began to grumble that no one cares and none of it mattered. Maybe I should just stop. No comments. No messages. Crickets. Few shares or likes either. People seem to want Benny Hill and I am not Benny Hill.

Then I remembered Dr. Pierce standing alone there on his wooden box and realized that if I quit, he would be profoundly disappointed in me. Not because 11,000 others didn’t care to listen or subscribe (or knew I existed) but because 86 others cared. And because I cared.

I share this with you because we are going into the holiday season and it is a period of time that many dread because they feel alone. That no one is listening or cares. That they don’t really matter all that much.

I’ll ask you the same question I asked myself on Monday, which is the same question Dr. Pierce asked me there in Hyde Park.

If only one person is paying attention and finds meaning or value in what you do, then it worth it….even if that one person is you.