What is it about the human spirit that it loathes to live alone? We constantly strive to be with someone, to have another person close by, despite the risk that it may all come to nothing, or that person will leave you behind.
I wondered what it was like for children, because for me, when I was a child, I didn’t understand how people leave our lives, or how we became separated from one another. We may go to one school one year and end up at another school the next year, all through circumstances beyond our control that causes us to change from one year to the next. Children leave, change schools, even move to different countries. And those friends we couldn’t do without during break time and recess, are gone forever. The fact that we barely even bat an eye when the new school year starts, and other children take their place or even our own, says a lot about the natural ability of children to cope with change.
But the biggest separator of human lives, is death. Death swoops in and takes away the people we love, knowing that we will never see these people again. It’s the manner in which we cope with loss and loneliness that shapes us, defines us and changes our outlook and perspective on life.
Exploring how loneliness shapes the human soul, is one of the foremost areas that intrigue me. Understanding how separation and the unknown can change or warp a person, should surely be examined in order to know how to combat and rectify the effects on an individual. But, I think that because of the nature of loneliness, it’s effects are not as glaring as other, more apparent, ailments within society.
I’m always talking (writing) about inspiration, and how it affects what I write. While recently searching for one image, I came across a picture of a little girl jumping into a puddle of mud with a boy I can assume is her brother. The enjoyment that stretched her face, as well as the whoop of joy, you can almost hear, caused me to reminisce about my own childhood. Then I came across a picture of a four or five-year-old boy, wrapped in blood-red monks robes, and wondered at the contrast in their lives. One child, without responsibility or cares, the structure of her days, less rigid and more relaxed than the other child. The small boy, separated from his parents and all the people he knows and loves, the people he has come to understand in his short life, to continue his life in the temple.
I wondered what would inspire a parent to give their child to the temple, and whether it was a common thing. I wondered how the child thought, and what he could remember of Before. But most of all, I wondered if he was lonely.
I will never be able to say that I understand how that child feels, or any child in such a position, but exploring human nature in such circumstances will surely test me, and anyone that reads what I intend to write.
If you’d like to take this journey with me, please follow the link to the excerpt page and enjoy a totally unedited, raw version of the beginning of the story. Don’t forget, it has a long way to go, and many elements within may change, but the bare bones behind the story will certainly stay the same… I hope!
Follow for Patty And The Monk Boy (Working title)