In a series of conversations with a friend staying with me at the farm, I had this realization about what it means to be human.
We are connection seekers. We spend our lives sending out these pings into the universe, fearing and hoping for an answer. Like little satellites trapped in orbit around our own loneliness. And because we are terrified of asking for what we need and not getting it, our signals are full of static.
We are meaning makers. Desperate for it all to have a purpose, to make some kind of sense. So every interaction gets re-litigated and scrutinized for hidden clues and subtext. We obsess over what we said, how we said it, how it was received. How exhausting it all feels. But it gives us a sense of control because otherwise, isn't everything random? Chaotic?
We are story tellers. We want there to be a narrative that gives us a sense of where we are on the journey. Beginning, middle, end. There's predictability to this kind of arc. So we superimpose it over what is otherwise just a muddle of days and events.
These three essential human needs: connection, meaning, and story are what drive us to create. What is a piece of art, a song, a poem, a novel if not a way to transmit the core of who we are to someone else. It is a way to say I am here. This is what I believe. This is who I am.
I'm not sure where I'm going with all of this, but it's what bubbled up to the surface of my mind this evening.
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