ponderings of inconsequence

The basic principle of writing, a writer of some repute once said, was to write what you know about. That as it turns out proves to be disastrous for this would be writer, for if adhered to would barely result in a few pages, if not paragraphs. Hence I write this with a clear confession of knowing nothing about the subject.
A river of change flows through our lives, washing away what was once new but now old, redundant or as my generation would put it uncool. I use the term change as none judgmentally as possible. A debate on the pros and cons of change is something I do not want to get into. Nor do I intend to make it the focus of this passage, for far too much has been written about change. Perhaps it would be prudent to not write of change but instead write of a certain slice of time. Ours.
We live in a strange time and place. A time, when not belonging is an identity in itself, a place where borders are defined, more by wires of telecommunication than barbed ones. As all generations have, ours, struggles with the how’s and why’s of life and its consequences. Some define life as a struggle; some call it suffering .Most have definitions of their own and perhaps they are the most well off. Relationships, some new, some as old as life itself, still need to be defined and quantified. But that’s only human. It would be a lie if it were said that much of what troubles our soul is new. Confusion on where we are heading, and how we intend to get there remains but until we do I suggest we enjoy the journey.