Why is it that anything good only comes through struggle?
A result of the fall, I suppose. Sometimes man strives to create, but mostly man strives to not be overtaken by destruction. Philip K. Dick referred to entropy as "kipple" , or clutter that builds and builds until it overwhelms. It seems that life is filled with kipple and people whose only jobs are to fight it.
My sister's death indirectly gave creative birth to two different outlets of expression in my life--writing and photography. Writing has actually taken a secondary role to photography, even though it is familiar to me and it is something I have always been somewhat comfortable with. But writing to me is the stuggle to avoid destruction. It is the release of kipple that has built up in my mind. Photography is the struggle to create something above and beyond entropy, and hopefully (though probably not realistically) untouched by it.
I've also discovered that it takes not only struggle, but isolation as well. I've asked God scores of times why it is that I must lose so many who are close to me, be it through distance or death or relationship, but I always know the answer. Forging. Refining. Sharpening. Honing. A calling. A calling. A calling. A calling. And it sickens me, I sicken me, when I know the answer yet still refuse to obey.
Are there still men whose souls are noble, who fight the kipple even though it never stops and they can never win?
I would hope to be one. God, grant me grace.