A human's desire for community

I think it is a natural and healthy thing for people to want to be around other people. Maybe it stems from the early development of our species, when we had greater chances of survival as individuals if we stuck together with others — through sharing resources and food, protection from predators, etc. Some would say that a community is truly where we belong because that is where God is present — in people caring for each other and sharing things. Either way, I think a lot about how the number of people around you can drastically affect one's tendency to feel belonged or anonymous. To illustrate, I drew this nifty little chart.

Now this comes from my own experiences, but I think I may share these sentiments with a number of people.  When completely alone for great lengths of time, unhealthy things start to happen to people. It's hard to experience true joy without anyone to share it with. And I think in general the soul gets a bit dried out. Now don't get me wrong, everyone needs a plenty of "me" time to recharge, reflect, study, ponder, whatever; and as an artist and musician I require and enjoy time alone to practice my disciplines. But too much time alone and you start to sort of lose a sense of yourself. You ever try playing a game of catch by yourself? Boy there's a sad game if I ever saw one. The world exists without you; you're just an observer with no voice of your own to offer. You think of fulfilling your own immediate needs and really nothing else.  And you probably end up watching way to much reality TV, which is really no good for anybody.

And this excessive time alone doesn't have to be just cooped up in an apartment like some old hermit. At the other end of the spectrum, I think bouts of loneliness are felt more keenly when surrounded by throngs of people whom you have no interaction with. People-watching is fun, but I think everyone hopes that eventually someone will look back and notice that you're there. Or it's like being stuck in traffic.  You're in your own little bubble of steel and glass and upholstery, inching down a choked river of thousands of other human beings with whom you will never share one single glance, except for the occasional middle finger. It is not a wonderful feeling to say the least.

But enter one other person who says, "Hey you, there you are."  Bam. Someone to engage in conversation with, to cook or share a meal with, to people-watch with. Someone to throw the ball back to you. The beginnings of a sense of community, of souls interacting and feeding each other. Douglas Adams said in one of his Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books, "How do you know you're having fun if no one's watching you have it?" It's the best friend who goes on every adventure with you and shares your inside jokes. It's the girlfriend or boyfriend or husband or wife with whom you look forward to sharing so many otherwise insignificant moments. I mean sunsets can be breathtaking, but how much more enjoyable can it be when you have someone to turn to and say "Holy crap look at that, isn't that amazing." That one person in your life can change you from a mumbling, disheveled hermit to a ray of sunshine in an instant.

I think that's why old people will talk your freakin' ear off if you give them the slightest time of day — because they just want someone to talk to, they're tired of listening to themselves grumble on about their hemorrhoids and how back in their day people actually mailed letters to each other instead of this silly interwebs business that us kids have today.

Enter more people and the community grows and the feeling of belonging remains. I think a small party at someone's house with 10 or 15 people is way more fun and engaging than a raging kegger with 100 people you've never met. Hence my next point — the more people that are introduced into the picture, the more distant the community becomes at that critically personal level. Until ultimately we are a New Yorker crammed into a subway station, standing not but an inch from 1000 people in any direction, and not looking a single one of them in the eye.

My friend Michael was telling me about how when he's a part of a small church, it's so much more connected and fun, and everyone knows each other and it's alive and teeming with fellowship. But comes the mega-church: 10,000 people you've never had a single conversation with, and suddenly you're looking for another small church to connect with.

Anyway that's it.