Commune

I hate that word community—and worse, I dread that being in community is an absolute necessity to living a fulfilled, semi-sane life.

Loners are skewed. They wobble. Even if you’re a genius, if you’re a loner genius you’ll be lonely. And weird. You probably won’t brush your teeth. Or you will brush your teeth and say See? I don’t need other people.

But you do. You need other people—good people, trusted people, reliable somewhat honest people who care for you enough to tell  you the truth. Your breath stinks. Your hair looks ridiculous. I’m worried about you. Your eyes are wandering.  Your motives are a mess. No really—not just political crap or differences of stylistic opinion, but genuine care, with genuine insights into your heart, they spot the wobble, the stutter step, the skip, and they care enough to tell you, to warn you, and walk with you. To love you.

And you? Do you listen? Are you open? Do you say, I don’t feel anything different, but geesh, you’re the third good friend who’s told me they are worried about me. Maybe I DO have something askew?….Are you open? or are you foolishly full of false pride (false because let’s face it, who really cares except for you?). Are you stubborn and closed-minded, mule-headed and certain in your certainty that you are certainly ok?

Rather than be proud, would you be open—and open to celebrating that you have friends that kinda care for you? Will you listen, interact, and maybe even share a little piece of your heart? It will help. You won’t be so lonely. Chase those blues away with —ooh i hate the word—community.