Holes

There was a book I read in English class called Holes.

It was one of my favourite tales.

It was about naughty kids digging holes as punishment for their sins.

Nowadays, I see holes as much more personal effects.

To edge on the side of caution, knowing what my contemporaries will imagine is next, let me clarify.

Holes exist in knowlege.

Holes exist in arguments.

Holes exist in plans.

You could never imagine, with only your own research, the argument to which you’ll be presented and have to defend.

So holes have value. They tell us where to look. Or, more practically, how to avoid them.

Everyday, I come into contact with holes in this sense.

Some that I have to look for answers.

Some I have to divert around.

There are certain diplomatic choices for each.

But here’s the crux of it all.

Sometimes the holes cannot be filled.

And why?

Because it’s not your place or, more importantly, because some holes need to be filled by others.

The moral of the story is that diplomacy actually has a core function in our everyday lives.

Despite your best interests, it’s always wise to stick to the script.

Believe in your reasons.

And have something to show for it.

Stopping halfway helps no-one, and lets down everyone.

So continue.

Holes, or no holes.

Until the end, until there is no more.

Until you’re exhausted, down on the ground and want to finish it all.

Why?

Because that’s the life worth fighting for, the life worth living.

The good fight.

Holes