I am young and I am lost*

The Godfather of Soul, Mr James Brown once declared: “Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things he’s got it all.” Well, the last time I checked my auburn bouffant was still on the grow and my slightly crooked, but proud to say ‘filling-less’ teeth were still intact. So why am I lost and admittedly feeling a bit down? Here’s just three good reasons:

1] Crisis of Conscience.
I am 24 years old. I am 10,500 miles away from home†. I am girlfriend-less, jobless‡, with little money and few possessions. But these circumstances have been brought about fundamentally out of my own free will (excluding the ex-girlfriend bit, but that’s another story for another day). Everyone has their own heap of emotional baggage, but interestingly of late, I’ve encountered a vast majority of young twenty-somethings, like myself, who are experiencing a slight crisis of career conscience. Most of us long for a career that we are passionate about; respected as individuals; is somewhat creatively fulfilling; whilst somehow contributing towards some form of common good! (Not to much to ask there then).

2] Economic and Environmental Debt.
For the first time in history we’re beginning to see the makings of a generation whose circumstances are worse than that of their parents . . . Government debt has forced huge cuts in Government spending, ultimately contributing to a shrinking economy with less prospects (In the UK, more than a million 16 to 24-year-olds are without a job). And we are likely to continue to be met with higher taxes for lesser government services — Here’s what Ted Halsted, writer for The Atlantic has to say on the matter:

Many Xers [the generation born after the Western post–World War II baby boom ended] sense that the basic fabric of American society is somehow fraying. Traditional civic participation, community cohesion, and civility are in decline, and not just among the young. The long-held belief in the value of hard work is under assault, as many Americans work longer hours for less pay, watch the gap between rich and poor grow ever wider, and see their benefits cut by corporations with little allegiance to people or place. The result is a fundamental loss of trust: between citizens and elected officials, between employees and employers, and, ultimately, between individuals and their neighbors. Yet trust and civility are the pillars on which any well-functioning democracy and free-market economy depend.

Finally, Xers face large environmental debts that stem from the use and abuse of our natural resources. Well over half of the world’s major fisheries are severely depleted or overfished; loss of species and habitat continues at an unprecedented rate, with some 50,000 plant and animal species disappearing each year; freshwater tables across the globe, including parts of America, are falling precipitously; each year America alone loses more than a million acres of productive farmland to sprawl; and emissions of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases continue to rise, threatening to raise global temperatures by two to six degrees within the next century.

Global warming is a revealing case study from the perspective of Generation X. There is nearly unanimous scientific agreement on the problem, and a consensus among economists that the nation could reduce its greenhouse-gas emissions without harming its economy. In addition, there is ample evidence—ranging from temperature increases to abnormally frequent weather disturbances to icebergs breaking off from the poles—to warrant deep concern. Yet our political establishment has resigned itself to virtual inaction. Why act now, politicians appear to reason, when we can just pass the problem on to our kids?

How, Xers have every right to ask, can one generation justify permanently drawing down the financial, social, and natural capital of another?

But whining will do no good. The only way for Xers to reverse their sad situation—and to realize the promise of the economic opportunities and technological innovations of the next century—is by entering the political arena that they have every reason to loathe. After all, collective problems require collective solutions. Xers cannot reasonably expect the political establishment to address, let alone fix, the sobering problems they are to inherit unless they start participating in the nation’s political process, and learn to flex their generational muscle. Whether or not they do so will depend on two more immediate questions: Does this generation share a set of political beliefs? And if so, how might these translate into a political agenda?

(‘A Politics for Generation X’)

3] Should I stay or should I go?
I also have no idea what to do after my visa expires in October — Return to Britain and join the London rat race or to keep traveling along, hopping from country to country and odd job to odd job? Continued travel could prove fun — though I can’t help but feel I would be somehow hiding from the inevitable of having to confront the lingering, ominous career cloud that’s been hanging over me.

So, there’s just three things keeping me awake at night. And I know it all sounds like stereotypical ‘teenage angst’, but surely I’m not alone here? For now, I have been drawing some consolation from the poet laureate and pride of Scotland, Robert Burns. The first six stanzas of Burns’ ‘To a Mouse’ is a profound and sincere apology to a little ‘mousie’ who has had her nest destroyed by the narrator whilst plowing his field. In the, final verse, the poet expresses jealousy for the mouse’s ability to live perpetually in the present as the mouse lacks foresight to worry about the future of the cognitive capabilities to dwell on past mishaps:

Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Ouch! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospect drear!
An’ forward, though’ I canna see,
I guess and fear.

The verse also functions as some abstract metaphor, as Burns manages to turn the protagonist mouse into a wee helpless symbol of ourselves, terrified to be living in a world that could so easily destroy us at any moment.

It is said that “in his darkest hour every Atheist half believes”. So, in a rather uncharacteristic manner, I’ll end with a short Bible passage known as the The Serenity Prayer. (As an interesting side note, the prayer is also recited at the beginning of nearly all formal Alcoholic Anonymous meetings):

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

Amen.
(PS this is not a cry for help).

*All these tangled thoughts were the inspiration behind the art work featured above, located in Edinburgh Gardens skatepark, Melbourne.

† I’m on of those ‘gap year’ things in Australia.
‡ This is a little bit of a fabrication: I have job, but it is dead-end and not technically legal.