Why is the idea of cozying up in bed next to an open window that looks out to either a mere parking lot or the entire bustle of a big city so romantic to us? Because we feel ourselves fitting into a social ecosystem effortlessly. We are doing nothing special. We are not out front, presenting ourselves to you. We are relaxing in our beds. Meanwhile, you are parking your car. To do what? Go inside, greet your spouse and make dinner? It makes me smile. We are simultaneously doing life. Whatever that may mean. This isn’t a surprise to us — we know that we’re doing life together. Maybe it’s the intimacy of these moments that are specifically special. I am reminded of my part in this world while simply existing.
We just are barely reminded of our connection to each other — close friends and strangers alike. And, if we are, we are preparing to face each other with grandiose gestures. Like cleaning our house, getting dressed up, bringing an expensive bottle of wine. It’s absurd. Why and when did we get so disconnected? From ourselves, from others, from authenticity? Why do we pride ourselves on individualism when social connections are such a close tie to our well-being?
In Common Light 
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