A Note on Standards.

I’m tending to see life these days – on a personal level at least – as being about little more than painting a picture with experiences. We gather them and add them to the canvas; and when we die, the picture’s complete.

That’s why standards are important to me. Standards form the core of the structure on which the experiences are positioned. Without standards, experiences are mere random ink blots scattered indiscriminately, and I’m the sort who likes pictures to have recognisable form.

I don’t see that it matters much where we get our standards from. I prefer to build my own, but if others are more comfortable having them dictated, so be it. And I don’t see that it matters much what they are, as long as they’re honestly held and not used to hurt others.

This is just about me making sense of my life, you understand; I don’t expect others to subscribe to the same view. All I ask of others is that they don’t hurt their fellow travellers who are building their own pictures, and prevent them doing so in the process.

And I seem to be well into ink blots at the moment, don’t I?