Ahh look at all the lonely people (violins, violins, violins, violins, violins)
Ahh look at all the lonely people… Eleanor Rigby/Paul McCartney, 1966
I remember back in the ‘80’s, someone coined the phrase “The Me generation.” Anybody else remember that? Well, I dunno if all that’s true* when you page through the vast and seemingly endless numbers of people self publishing through blogs and see that many have gone uncommented on.
People, young and old, smart and not so smart, poor and not so poor… every kind of people busting out all over with thoughts and feelings, baring these to the world (or so they think). So much for the “me” generation. All these invisible, unreciprocated, un-listened to, not-responded-to “me’s” out there just hoping to connect. What do they all want? I mean, what do they all really want?
“Well, I’ll tell you want I want, what I really, really want…” Spice Girls
I want to feel belong. No… not belonging. Belong. Belong feels effortless. It’s like “Ahhh…” It feels like always being in a state where giving others joy is not only more important than receiving it yourself, that distinction doesn’t even come to mind. No quid quo pro. No unrealistic expectations. Automatic-pilot joy in giving. The upside of this unconscious, unmanufactured, unselfish, un-self-centered, un-me oriented mindset is reciprocity. Glorious, emotional needs fulfilling, not too hot, not too cold, but just right– reciprocity.
I have a sense that people– that tiny percentage of the human population that is not overly preoccupied with me/ego snuffing daily pursuits like oh, not being car bombed, for example or sleeping through the whistle of scud missiles firing in the night, or picking through hard, cracked, barren soil for a seed to eat, or walking bare foot 20 miles to fetch a pail of water, or battling AIDS, or homelessness, or joblessness– who have it all just about covered in the life sustanance department– just want to feel belong. Not belonging. I said Belong.
Like going to work every day. This is the place I come to every day. Belong. Like managing the home and caring for minor children. Belong. Like not having to perform because these strangers that you’re lunching with may be potential new friends. Belong. Like crying out “Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody. Help! You know I need someone. Help!”** And it arrives. Belong.
People are blogging. People are writing more than ever before. But are people reading?
“Is there somebody out there? Is there someone who hears my…?” Dear God/Midge Ure
This is how it feels not to have a job…
*I Got You, Babe/Sonny and Cher, 1965
**Help!/The Beatles, 1965
