As I’ve studied, my lecturers have told me we are past a lot – we’re post-modern, post-feminist, post-religion, post-truth. We’ve travelled beyond meaning, the narratives we used to rely on are bankrupt, so I’m told. Have we arrived, then, or are we still travelling? Still groping through the mist? Debating into the dark? I’m increasingly disturbed by our culture’s inability to grasp anything real, to find a solid place to stand. I still believe in some ancient narratives – in the faith and traditions of my forbears. I find it hard to cling to them, especially to traditional Christianity in secular Scotland.
This piece pictures the building of a fence, asking if establishing boundaries – setting clear limits on what we believe – is still worthwhile. Should I back down, agree that truth is dead? I want to live and work with people who believe that truth is out there and we can find it. Is it not better for each of us to be able to defend his belief with conviction, than to continue to muddle through a murky land, where everything is relative and nothing matters?