Alone in a World of Connectedness

There's much commentary about our "wired" world, and increasing commentary about the need to unplug and the value of doing so. All this got me to thinking about how and why it is that so many people (at least in my unscientific view) seem to feel so lonely, so disconnected.

It goes back to something my wise friend Eileen told me years ago. She's a social worker, and the program she ran worked with kids in a NYC middle school. She told me how teachers didn't ask kids about their personal lives, about their struggles. It wasn't because they didn't care; it was because if they asked, they'd feel obligated to try to help, and they didn't feel equipped to do so. Not seeing became the operative mode for these teachers, because in not seeing, they were not obligated to respond. Reminds me a bit of those famous monkeys, though we are not necessarily talking about evil here, but about the basic human need for compassion, for concern, for a little help.

I remember vividly being in synagogue with my autistic son. This was years ago, probably seven or more, and it feels like yesterday. Noah was just a disaster, crying and carrying on, being as difficult as seemed humanly possible for him to be. I retreated to a lobby area outside the main sanctuary. I sat there, slumped and sobbing. Not one person who saw me came over. Not one asked if I was ok. No one took the time to reach out and ask if I needed anything--a shoulder, a cup of water, some rope to hang myself. Nothing. Not a word. Not a stitch of human interest or empathy.

OK, I wasn't sprawled on the floor, pounding my fists and screaming, but I was clearly in distress. And no one gave a damn. Not one single person. I get why people shy away from reaching out to strangers on the street (I was once slugged in the chest by a homeless man), but this was not that. I was in a confined, private space. I'm a member, for god's sake. Even if I was just a visitor, how could not one person step up and ask. How could not one person choose to see me?

How much harder is it to be seen and heard in a world cluttered with input/feedback/opinion/commentary. We're inundated with emails, tweets, videos, FB posts, etc. etc. etc. But do we ever really see and hear one another? Our political discourse is all about talking past one another, whether on the left or the right. Maybe the larger populace is taking its cues from our so-called leaders, who choose not to engage one another, but rather to bait, mock, or ignore one another.

I was deeply, deeply touched by another mom of an autistic child who told me that I was the first person to make her feel that she was not alone. Hearing that made me feel nothing short of triumphant. We seem too often only to care about "big wins" where we can say we cornered a market, scored the most twitter followers, or are otherwise validated by large numbers.

I live, for better or worse, in a world of small victories. I don't care much about changing the world because it's a fool's mission (at least for me). But if I can notice the person next to me, make her feel valued, offer a tissue for her tears, and share my own similar journey, I will have done something to change one life. Even if only for a moment, even if only for one day, that somehow feels like a real victory. To forge a connection with another human being is not to be taken for granted. It might--and especially in our hyper-connected world--be the only thing that really matters. At least it is to me.