Fiddler on the Roof

Thats a great movie isn't it? About maintaining balance, precarious postions. We all are fiddlers on the roof, all have a balance beam we must walk and if we fall off, it is very probable we shall snap our necks. To add to it, we don't make things too easy for ourselves, carting around superfluous baggage that is in constant need of re-arranging. All while playing the tune of our life, and danceing to the tune others scratch out. Weaving the threads of music together.
Life is a rhapsody, each persons song complimenting those around it, yet a distinct melody in and of itself. The beauty of it is the song sounds different to each who hears it. Some hear a dark haunting piece, melencholy divine. To others it reverberates with pain, exquisite agony, wounds of life. Happiness, pain, hurt, worship, divinity, all part and whole. Some parts may join in disharmony, thrown out of whirl, but they become part of the rhapsody, becoming even more perfect in its imperfection. Without even one piece the beauty would be diminished, the song less powerful, indeed it has been lessened though persecution, execution, dehumanization. For a time, a particular thread will overwhell, overcome another, subduing in its own confidence of supremancy, but the music forces balance.
You can hear the music of life, the fiddleing. Its in the wind, the rain, the clacking of a computer keys, the roar of traffic. You can feel it pulse in the crowd of a shopping mall, or in the quiet solitary of a sactuary. We dance to the tune, struggling to keep our balance.
Whither we maintain balance though tradition, conformity, non-conformity, seclusion, immersion, religion, its all to the same purpose. The only diffrence in our lives is the means, not the ends.
So why do we feel an ever pressing need to show our way of balanceing of playing is better? It's a bit like arguing wither it is better to write using a computer, a typwriter, or a pen and pencil. It acheives the same ends, a work is produced. Someone might find writing on a computer discomfiting, similar to how somone might find religion a odd way to balance. People feel the need to upset each others balance forcing ways on them that don't fit, like an overlarge fiddle. Humans find joy in "helping" those who have fallen and survived by attempting to garner more followers to their way, so their part of the song becomes the most important. But a rhapsody is composed of many parts each as impotant as the last, from the smallest quietest piece to the largest, brashest portion.

"You might say we are all fiddlers on ther roof, attempting to scratch out a plesant simple tune, without breaking our necks."