Commonality of experience, and human condition, these bind us. They make for connectivity—as scars speak the alienation in a crowded city, “No one understands me.” If true, the image is bleak, if untrue, we seek those with understanding … to feed the hunger. It seems usual to insist upon isolation; often, no one knows there’s a need, this is why we rarely see the calamity coming. So existential, an aching desolation, prided on anguish, most think us off, at minimal. Deep resistance etches one into a creation. Turning away from resistance, might hinder one’s growth. Nevertheless, we, each person, is connected through those mandatory experiences, unfortunately, many of which are trying. Someone might ague on grounds of spiritual connectivity: we might leave that for others to work out. In speaking to commonality, it lends reason for universal love, consideration, caring, and cosmic concern. Someone might see me low, offer a kind word, and dispel the funk I was in. On a grander scale, many are suffering, many more are alert, we must act—while given an opportunity.
