I’ve started this post a couple of times in the last day or so and deleted it to go away and think some more. It seemed shallow and callous to simply talk about writing fiction when around us such bellows of outrage were being heard. On the other hand, what do I know of the reasons behind this civil unrest? My life is relatively privileged and comfortable. I’ve had a decent education, always lived in a more than decent home and been part of a family and a community, even if, on a personal level, I may not have felt I entirely belonged there. The point was that they were only too willing to include me in it.
Don’t mistake any of those things for having had a smooth ride. I’ve had my ups and downs and, believe me, the downs were pretty low. Once you’ve stared into the abyss of possible oblivion and made the conscious choice not to jump, but to turn and fight your way back to the light and re-engage with life, you find you’ve developed a slightly different perspective on the human condition. I’ve had one member of my family tell me that I was the unluckiest person they knew. I assured them that, to the contrary, I was one of the luckiest because I’ve had the opportunity to re-build myself from the foundations upwards and craft the person I choose to be. I’ve learned more than even I realise. I can dance as if no-one is watching.
It makes me sad to see young people with such bleak, blinkered and inward-focused gazes that the purpose of their existence at the moment is to take and rend and destroy and think that it will somehow bring them happiness. I have an understanding of the yawning hole they are trying to fill, the need to feel not only visible, but that they matter.
Drink and drugs and stuff – other people’s stuff – won’t make them feel better. Depriving others won’t make them feel better. Bellowing this loud, so everyone can hear won’t make them feel better, at least not in a way that is meaningful and lasting. It’s all a temporary fix. The shine will wear off. Then where will the next thrill come from to try and fill that hole?
How do you get a generation to learn to respect themselves and by respecting themselves, respect others? How do you get them to feel connected? How do you get them to believe that they are good enough? How do you get them to understand that they matter simply because they are here? That every breath they take impacts on someone else for good or ill. Their presence creates ripples and it is their choice what ripples they choose to make, what impact they choose to have.
I’m not a religious person, however, I have a strong, personal, spiritual faith which is sorely tested on a regular basis. I’m not a happy-clappy hippy either - I work in the NHS in an area with a large immigrant community and where there is high unemployment and ill health (real or perceived) within family units.
I do believe that most people, at the most basic level, simply want these things: to feel secure; to feel loved; to be happy.
I don’t know what the answers are. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. The thing I do know, is that we can’t carry on this way and expect everything to turn out alright.
A phrase I learned from a wise man called Steve is ‘if you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got’. I think maybe now’s the time to do something different.
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