There are several things in this world that terrify me as much as they enthrall me.
The ocean. I’m enamored by it. I long for it. Its presence brings a sense of peace and confidence. The assault on my senses is welcome - from the scent of briny air to the feel of a wave pulling away, stealing the ground from right under my feet.
And yet, the ocean is terrifying.
Its innocuous existence during beach play brings entire countries to their knees. It’s majestic and awesome in the most frightening of ways. Who knows what lies beneath? Who can say, for certain, what depths exist?
I find that people, much like the ocean, instill the same types of feelings.
The wonderment of people is no small thing to behold. From the height of goodness to the depth of malevolence, people are fascinating and beautiful and intimidating and terrifying. I’m inclined to be drawn to them as much as I am to steer clear of them.
Maybe it’s because I’m essentially an extrovert with, at times, excruciating social anxiety.
Or maybe I’m not unique at all. And maybe we’re all confronted with these feelings of push and pull, ebb and flow. Perhaps the best things about life, about living, instill these desires and these warnings. Perhaps it’s about respect more than anything else. Respect for life. All life. Respect for earth. Respect for nature and creator.
For all of human history, stories have shaped how we see the world. Truth or Fiction, Literal or Poetic, we rely on stories to guide us. We are moved by them, our thoughts and opinions are shaped by them. While stories are integrated into all of our lives, we are also creatures of comfort, of habit. We cling to what we know. But how much do we miss out on when we forget to seek? The Human Experience is both the same and wildly different for everyone. It individualizes us but it also has the power to bring us together.
Stories are built into our DNA. They tell of who we are. Good stories tell of victory and triumph. Great stories tell of vulnerability, leaving no stone unturned.
While the method has changed from civilization to civilization, the innate need for stories booms forward.
Who among us has not sought?
Who among us has not felt the pain of another or the relief of knowing that you’re not the only one?
Who among us has clung to bitterness and hatred in an obtuse refusal to understand the position of another?
Indeed, it is my firm belief that there has never been a hate filled position held that did not have some form of ignorance attached to it.
Life thrives in the gray. It is bold; it moves forward without permission. When we can’t boil someone or something down to good or bad or right or wrong or love or hate. What happens then?
I’m convinced that hatred lives at a distant view, in fact, it’s dependent upon it. Because when you dial in, when you experience the human spirit and its vulnerability, that’s where compassion thrives.
So what is the point of this, The Human Experience?
Ultimately, it’s quite literal. The human experience is as much about the tangible as it is the unseen. It’s about the people and places we love, the communities we surround ourselves with, the things that feed our bodies and our souls.
This is a space where stories are shared. We certainly aren’t the first, and we won’t be the last. But capturing these brief moments in time - of triumph and defeat, of bravery and cowardice, of love and loss - is important.
Because there is value in the story. Because we’re wired for community. Because in an age of unprecedented resources and information and statistics, we all still long for the same things. Because, no matter what, we are all deserving of dignity and compassion.
