People come in all shapes, sizes and abilities. The pencil-necked geek in high school finds his niche in the research laboratory. Isn’t that a story that has been told over and over and over again?
Back in the tribe, every individual couldn’t be the brave strong warrior. But everybody had to find a way to contribute. In the dark age monasteries, Benedictine Rule stated that if you didn’t work you didn’t eat. And if you wanted to eat meat, you had to do physical labor, if I remember correctly.
Find your niche. That’s the meaning of life right there.
Sir Francis Galt, cousin of Darwin cautioned early on that the Survival of the fittest model was only useful in the wild and would serve to be enervating and divisive in organized society through ‘misplaced’ compassion.
What I have come to think of as corrosive compassion — a process whereby interventionists, reformers and apologists band together to prop up the weakest and advance their progress and ensure their success, even in reproduction.
This sea of entitlement upon which we now all drift directionless, has been channeled by the narrows of government compartmentalization to where we must unavoidably find ourselves coursing downstream toward a rocky landing.