Connectedness is a relevant topic these days. From the overwhelming strands of connectedness through Facebook, to the Christmas letter you occasionally get from a friend who lives on the other side of the world, we sit on an interpersonal spiderweb of our own creation. I have friends and relatives who never get in touch. I wouldn't know if they're dead or alive if I didn't occasionally call them. These aren't people who are trying to dump me. I know that would seem to be the obvious conclusion, but we are interested in each other and there is affection between us in every case. I think old habits die hard and people are overly busy and fundamentally lazy.
Then there is the connectedness of a different type. Nature, for instance. I feel a reassuring bond with the world (or earth, if you will) when I'm outdoors. Just going outside of my house and looking at the trees, the moon, the bats and birds, gives me a little jolt of connection and I'm better for doing so.
Writing is a connection to something bigger than myself. I'm a groveling neophyte standing before the alter of language, but at least I'm in the sanctuary.
Reading is a common way of feeling like part of a group. I wish we had a secret handshake so it wasn't necessary to always be carrying around a book. People who read see people who don't read as a very large and sad group.
Family provides so much of your identity and connectedness you couldn't scare away with a shotgun. Entire nonfiction sections of the library seem dedicated to the trauma of family, but fiction is ripe with familial trauma as well as the beauty of a good family. Enough said.
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