The search for meaning
Beneath all the pain in the world is the need to be seen, heard, loved and to matter. Whether to one person, a group of people, a place of work, community, tribe, religion or country. Matter fiercely and in a manner that is irreplaceable. We all know we will die one day. We want to be valued when we are alive and to be missed fiercely in an unique way when we are gone.
In order to belong, in order to be loved, in order to be acknowledged as an independent voice, we sacrifice the very thing we want to be cherished for. We conform, wear masks, fake our happiness or our acceptability. We crave connection. We hope that at some point we can reach a state where our masks can be taken off, and we would be loved just for what we are. We wear this need like an thick armour, that grows over the years till we reach a stage where there is no real person inside us, just a bunch of masks, a body full of yearning and pain, and an undefinable sense of sadness that we will never really receive what we crave for. Our happiness or peace comes from the reconciliation of this fact and we call it wisdom. An accepting or ignoring of this pain of not truly being loved, understood or valued. We teach ourselves to become happy with crumbs. A compromised tryst with reality.
And, so we live. Grow old. And, die. Carrying this cry for completion from cradle till the end, craving the warmth of belonging. Making sure our masks are in place. Searching for meaning. Searching for an affirmation that we matter.