We need community; life is too hard alone
“When one of us is hungry, we’re all hungry.”
I talk a lot about self-care. It’s the homework I give students and advice I give friends (and myself): Take care of yourself. You can’t take care of anyone if you’re not first taking care of yourself. Simple advice, I know, but man it’s hard to follow. Harder than one would think. But lately, I’ve been thinking about self-care in community.
Some of the greatest activities that I pursue in the name of self-care involve more feet than my own stomping through these beautiful mountains, more hearts than my own exploring meaning and more voices than mine sharing experiences and teachings. Some of my most important modes of self-care directly rely on community, directly rely on others to be a part of it with me. The self-care that comes from allowing myself to be met, to be seen—to stop holding so tightly to my guarding and let someone else in.
As much as the body-worker in me wants to tell you about stretching and icing and letting your body rest when it needs to, the human in me wants to tell you that having a beer with a friend is also self-care. So is dancing, so is playing pool, so is going camping with a good group of people and throwing in a few cuss words every now and again.
When we engage with others, and namely with community, we are reminded that we are not alone. We know that while we may be suffering or struggling with self-judgment or mending a broken heart or getting to know longing and desire, or reveling in joy and abundance, so is everyone else. My suffering might not look like yours, but let me tell you, suffering is suffering. Joy is joy. And for me to know that I am not alone both in my suffering and my joy does more to mend my heart than a bath and a glass of wine (although they do come pretty close.)
Beyond that knowledge is the feeling of being met in whatever state we’re in. Connecting to others gives us an opportunity to be met, to be seen, to allow someone else to meet us as we are—and it lets us know that wherever we are is OK. Connection, authentic heartfelt connection, can mitigate shame. No. Matter. What.
So community is where I focus.
Community gives us mirrors, for better or worse (worse is sometimes even more helpful, in my opinion). It puts us in touch with our humanity—it helps us to connect with that part of us that is universal—universally longing and singing and desiring and celebrating and loving. Universally aching. Universally wishing that something were different. Universally appreciating what we do have in our lives.
But it’s not always easy to find community that is safe, where you feel held and loved and supported. This evasiveness is why we need community even more.
We need community because we need it; everyone needs it. I try to not stand on my soapbox and make broad generalizations, but this is one I feel completely comfortable with—everyone needs community. Because the fact of the matter is, we can’t do it alone.
Life’s too hard. And I would venture to guess that it’s too hard because we’re not supposed to do it alone. Hope to see you soon. Sending you love.
Danielle Spillman is a certified yoga teacher, health enthusiast, and writer. You can find more of her musings at www.findyourlightyoga.com.