Just throwing ideas around. It is interesting to use the idea of self determination which seems to scrape up against the idea of fate. These days you have to blame yourself or so popular opinion seems to say but what of the silences and dismissals that accompany life as a youth? Then your always left with a kind of final ear though it is arguably easy to dismiss i.e. the ear of God in a Godless world. The only people seem open to hearing the unheard are those that find strength and hope in the words of God. What if you were just plain ignorant? What if wisdom couldn’t fill the void? Could you have the wisdom and the void together in harmony? What was the story but yet another story.
He had already lived two seperate lives. His life diverged on two paths. His grandparents were the connection to stability and prosperity and his parents a connection to disparity and struggle. He had choices, what path would he take? It seemed it was all about choices. You couldn’t have one and the other. It was either art or accountancy. Money or poverty. Art or graffiti. Any other combination would leave you in limbo. Nobody would be able to work out what you were really up to. He played golf occasionally with his grandparents then was out with his friends doing graffiti. How could these worlds mix? Strangely enough they were not that seperate. You either had money or wanted money but essentially both wanted money. That was the connection. The haves and have nots all wanted the same thing. He wanted to have his passion. To pursue his interests but at what costs?
Walk with the wise and become wise,
for a companion of fools suffers harm.
It was hard to know who was the fool and who was the wise. Everyone seemed flawed especially himself. Who could he become? Where could he reach? He didn’t understand life. He didn’t understand anything other than people could be silent when they were needed to speak. There was no wisdom in the world just an economic outlook as though being an accountant would solve all of life’s problems. He could only turn to God. God was silent but had left the book of life. In this book many wonders had been written. In the end he came back to a book that was the only voice of reason. The only thing that could talk to him.
The question was would he listen? Would he reach out? There were transgressions in the book itself. It showed what people were capable of. It also showed what God was capable of. God though held himself in check whereas people seemed wanting of each others destruction. It really was a Godless world for many. In God though what he wanted most was revenge. Cold hearted vengeance. It all came back to himself and what he thought he wanted. What he thought he had heard. But if anything he held his own hand back from inflicting more misery on a disillusioned world and beat his chest as though he was from the book itself.
The people reaching out were just sharing what they had found in the book. The comfort of being found together. It was the excursions with the Christian youth groups that temporarily kept them off the streets. They never really found themselves though. They didn’t want to hear wisdom just catchy phrases and smart comments. They were in the right place but without the tools to comprehend. Their goal was to be lost. To be a walking story of false flight. They had come crashing down. Not even God could help them. Was the world actually getting vengeance on them? Vengeance for being able to stand on their own two feet even in diversity? What was diversity but a choice. Wasn’t your mother being a junkie just about choices?
Diversity was always there for you. Always ready to derail while private schools put their fees up and asked for donations all the while expanding their property portfolios. His mother wasn’t a junkie but his new found friends Mums sometimes were. His own mother understood the job of keeping things rolling forward but she hit her own limits. Her limits were alcoholics. Screaming bleeping alcoholics. Junkies were a step up. The top shelf of diversity. With diversity at least you had variety. With diversity you had a story even if it was false and based on culpability. The truly disadvantaged seemed to rise through their issues and were unstoppable in their determination for a better life. They crashed through glass ceilings and paved a way ahead. Whereas the mad, as though better informed seemed destined to keep digging a hole for themselves. Hoping at some point to find a better world through the act of struggle only to find themselves back where they started only too ready to dig another hole.
But alas all of this was also a story. It was all made up and essentially it was designed to suit some and not others. Even our attitudes were readymade. Destined to keep the whole show churning along spitting out sad stories and stories of success.