photo by Brad Peacock
Community
Science now tells us
what we have known
since the beginning:
you and I are made of light.
And if atoms can be
birthed by long-gone stars
whose signatures we still
trace in every night sky,
and if these atoms can
come together to form
something as complex
and compassionate
as a human being, then
maybe we too can
join hands, make some
new and sacred thing
that will save us all.
In times of distress, we turn toward each other. Even if we isolate and resist connection at first, the desire for the presence of others who can share a portion of our pain, and help lift us up, is still very much alive. While it may be scientifically true that we are made of light, that our bodies even emit a faint glow in total darkness invisible to the naked eye, what matters the most is the light of spirit we offer to each other, the ways we can still gather, even if in small pockets, to heal this hurting world of ours. I must admit, because I am someone who needs a great deal of solitude and silence, community has not always been a natural fit. Like many, I sometimes believe I can go it alone. As one who also suffers with social anxiety, the idea of community and connection can sometimes feel taxing.
Nearly twenty years ago, just before I was about to teach my first college class in creative writing, I remember standing in the bathroom beforehand, my skin breaking out in hives. “I'm not sure I can do this,” I said to myself in the mirror, wondering if I might get my old office job back. And while teaching was never easy, I soon began to see how we can create community—and commune with each other—in every group, no matter how small. I began to see the ways that a good teacher or facilitator can bring people closer together, so they feel connected for life. I have noticed this in the online writing community I offer, in the retreats and workshops I lead, and in my own village here in Vermont: how we are saved daily by showing up for each other in small ways, by being vulnerable and open enough to reveal those tiny, invisible strings made of light that draw us closer and closer.
Invitation for Writing & Reflection: What does the word “community” mean to you? How have you found your own sources of light and kinship in these times? If you choose to write, you might begin with the phrase, “If we are made of light…” and see what comes.
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What a lovely poem. I will be taking the prompt to my journal. :) I understand what you mean about the tension between community and social anxiety. My husband and I are both introverted people, but we do push ourselves to be in community sometimes. Recently after a gathering with two other families with similar-aged children, once we got ours buckled into their carseats and sat in our seats and shut the door, he turned to me and said, "Well, I felt horribly awkward the whole time, but that was great!" Which was exactly how I felt. And the only way out of the awkwardness is through it...eventually we will feel more comfortable around these lovely people, but for now, we just have to awkwardly enjoy.
James, your inspiring reflections on the theme of community and your beautiful poem "Made of Light" deeply resonate, highlighting the strength and solace we can all find in connection. Encouraged by your writing prompt, I had a go: “If we are made of light, then we are the shimmering echoes of ancient stars, radiating love and hope in a cosmic dance.”