How to be Human

I woke at 6. Comforted by the warmth and light of the coffee machine. I had felt disconnected all week and feared that the remedy would not be found in my bedroom nor my office.

I made a dirty chai and put my quilted jacket on. The light was beginning to stir outside, finding its way to corners of the street. I walked to the river and sat, watching those on the other side, their lives physically and emotionally in parallel to mine.

While an advocate for independence, I’ve been quietly reflecting on the plight of individualism. Where western society has always celebrated individualism, this has simultaneously facilitated the bastardisation of humanity. We have collectively become a single plane, reduced to numbers and titles. It’s a stark contrast against (what I believe to be) our unequivocal nature: to connect and feel. In a bid for greater human connection this year, I’ve actively sought moments to observe and participate socially in ways I hadn’t before. From this, what I’ve discovered is: individualism is the killswitch for empathy.

One day, digital sounds, stories and statistics invaded our homes and heads and never left. An echo chamber of our own opinions and beliefs, where likes and posts have convinced us they are real emotion representatives. But just as we see fashion, politics and art trends cycle around, the pendulum is swinging back and physical platonic intimacy is being actively sought. This however, has brought about the commodification of connection. Over the past few years, spaces and events have been curated to bring back face-to-face conversation. Although this is a positive contribution to the issue, it is not responsive to financial limitations of individuals. Connection should not be able to be costed. So putting time and space aside to simultaneously sit with and outside of yourself is a good first step.

While interacting with strangers seems like a surface-level solution, it’s become so unheard of that it’s almost radical. We cannot understand ourselves in an echo chamber, let alone others. Facets of myself I have become privy to were not found looking in the mirror, they were revealed in dancing with environments and experiences I’ve chosen to be open to.

When we lose our ability to face the unknown, our tolerance is reduced; and with intolerance comes fear and hatred. While we are hardwired for connection, our brains seek safety in familiarity. To step over that boundary, is to inherently challenge what our subconscious warns us against.

You haven’t lost yourself, you’ve just lost touch. As soon as you step outside and put your attention to outside of yourself, you’re stepping outside of your ego.

On my walk I said good morning to eight strangers, five responded. But that’s okay, it’s not about those who are willing to look at those passing by or not. It’s looking at those I do not know to remind me that there are people, with lives and experiences separate to mine, yet feelings communal. It’s a humbling and comforting notion if you see it positively rather than existentially.

So get outside. Look at strangers sitting in the grass. Look at humanity in its raw, slightly skewed face, we are a collective of breathing and feeling beings; of blood pumping and limbs moving. And if you sit still long enough, you might just feel the earth breathing and hear the people laughing.