Connected

There are so many ways to feel like you are a part of something. In much of what humans do is all in the quest to be and feel like you aren't the island you thought you were. You can be tapped into a various amount of things that have a spread spectrum networking to each aspect of life and still quest for the pieces that are just beyond your reach. There are the majors like sex in the way that passion elevates it to more than that or love, family, friends and for those that are spiritual (religious) a church. The search for the missing pieces is intense, unyielding and for some with less paths than others its a life quest of self.

The human psyche is seen to encompass three main parts; the soul, self and the mind. To me this means that the quest for networking and searching and finding these pieces is so that we can find ourselves. Being human we complete the blanks through comparison. We cannot help ourselves but to compare against others to measure ourselves so that we know where we stand. Its like lining up by height and figuring out who to stand next to in grade school. The only way to know where you stand is to watch as the line forms. Finding that place is satisfying because now you know where to stand and why and therefore gives you some insight into who you are and that meant one less piece to find.

We don't admit it but so much of who we are is given to us by each other. I don't mean it in a way that we are being cloned more like we are being formed by them like clay on its way to being a bowl. Our experiences and contrasting them with what we see in others helps to explain our inner selves. We are still individuals with separate senses of self and mind. What if our souls are part of a collective energy? It would stand to reason that physical separation would only leave longing. We do the silly, the amazing, the challenging and the defying to complete the triskill that is the human psyche. If our original state was a collective wouldn't it make sense to reconnect? These connections become the quest. The quest to marry, to have kids, to form/reconciliate a family, to find a church, belong to a group, a philosophy, or some other collective to feel and know that we are part of something bigger than ourselves and complete 3 part psyche.

I have done more than a poor job of this...one could say I have not only given up but have failed my quest. The downside of the quest to connect is the failure to find like minded individuals. In connecting with others you are ultimately looking for acceptance. Those groups of people that make you feel like you are 'normal.' The world is more vivid in color when viewing it with those who see it they way you do. If you are always questioned and ridiculed for your view then you are less likely to share. Not sharing can keep others as well as yourself from full self-actualization. Loss of self-actualization is death to one's soul. Its a death that while silent is still impactful to the collective from which it came.

The value of variety is measured everywhere and in everything we do. We understand most acutely is that if were all the same that groupthink would keep us from moving forward lacking the benefit of invention or ingenuity. While necessity would keep us on the slow ride forward variety is still the ingredient that keeps us at the top of the food chain. What isn't measured as often nor valued as much is the ability to connect. The connections we make maintains our humanity, feeds our sense of self, quiets the mind, and nourishes the soul to completeness. In the end all we really want to be is connected.

With the passing of yet another birthday, I am reminded that I have given up this quest and what that might mean to my development and sense of inner peace. I am faced with deciding to either change or risk atrophy.

No More Storytellers

My father and his father before him are all about the stories. Some of them were the kind that Cosby would tell jokes about..."walked in the snow, uphill, one way and no shoes." They also told stories that were more along the lines of how life came to be for them, for the women in the family and my siblings. The stories were important they taught us about our heritage in its varied and colorful yet sometimes hard and stricken hue. So much can be learned in these stories. So much is gained. Sorted and dysfunctional as my family still is, I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by great storytellers growing up. I learned that if your will is strong, bad examples can be just as helpful as good ones.

The funny ones you remember first and often because they make you laugh so hard you almost wet yourself. There are no dry cheeks in the circle and every belly aches into doubling over, laying on the floor contentment. It isn't till you are older or more as you get older that you understand and appreciate the underlying message within the laughter. When was the last time you heard a story about artesians? UFOs? Howabout a good bigfoot story? Everyone has a big fish story, the one that got away. You learn as you laugh.

The ones about family tell you the stuff you need to know about & from whence you came. Through these stories you learn to cook, raise children and understand the fight that it took to get you the leg up in the world. You understand a bit more about the people who supplied you your genes. You appreciate the little bit you have as it promises to turn into the whole lot you will have in comparison. You see the pieces of your self today, tomorrow and hopefully longer into the future. Good, bad or indifferent you learn how to parent and develop your ideals about every aspect of the matter. From great-grandma's pie recipe to Uncle Stan's tenacious optimism the stories told are the kind of warm blankets that you never outgrow, you never throwaway. If you are any kind of parent you will want to wrap your children in the same security, you will want your child submerged in that tribe.

That's the rub, right? Aren't too many of us left that grew up in the kind of environment that lent itself to an adult table and a kid's table at Thanksgiving dinner. Even fewer of us left that grew up with grandparents, aunts & uncles and cousins as well as play cousins. The epic stories of a family shape and release grounded and aware human beings. Without the stories that speak to our humanity and the storytellers to tell them we become disconnected and unconcerned. Stories bind the families. Storytellers raise other storytellers that protect our culture. A history unremembered is a history that will soon be the future.

These United States are in dire need of storytellers. Too many cannot cook. Too many look for gangs to fill the void. Too many parents aren't parenting. Too many neighborhoods are without neighbors. Too many children don't know where they came from so their future is at best aimless. Too many communities have forgotten how to commune. You can only feel sorry for those wonder at the state in which we find our country. So much emphasis on money and power has led us away from our duty to fortify our future. In the listening there is a promise to become a part of the tapestry thereby making ourselves and those we love stronger. In the telling there is a duty to usher into the world historians capable to keep us from chaos just by spinning yarns to those they come into contact far and wide.