Discombobulated

How do we make sense of what is around us as we go about our everyday passage through the 24 hours which make up our day. To many the day is so full of event that they are swept along by a current not quite of their own making, borrowed from the desire of others.
In a sense they are the lucky ones, life is hectic and in the sense of box ticking supportive. Going to bed at night aglow with the satisfaction that you achieved so much and have a diary full for tomorrow. Of course one could argue that the quality of your life and the achievements are nebulous in so far as touching your own needs, if of course you recognise what those needs are. Is life a blur of preordained targets that we pick up from somewhere, goals to achieve in our insatiable desire to please. 
A far cry from the person, the family who have been left behind at the starting gate,  who struggle to visualise anything other than hunger, both in their stomach and in their stunted personalities for something different. Across the world the vast majority of people go to bed hungry in one way or another.
Perhaps the simpler more egalitarian  type of society based on an earthy tradition of integrated respect has the fall back position which lacking worldly goods, they have each other.
Its in the New World that one sees the blight brought on by a lack of so called success. The dumbing down of compassion, even suggesting compassion is a weakness and that under achievement is the result of fecklessness and stupidity. Imagine 24 hours in the life of one of life's hobos, people often through no fault of their own (loss of job, divorce, injury) thrown on life's scrap-heap terrified of the next encounter with authority. Their day an excursion into the baazar, not an infinite choice of destiny but a curtailment of any chance to be accepted.        





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