Hey, Human

When I was younger, I traveled to the places which held the most adventure; I was thirsty to know what the world looked like outside of my small frame of reference. I yearned to know people halfway around the world, how they lived, who they worshipped, and to meet the people and things they chose to love. I figured, with such easy nonchalance and excitement, that there would be good wherever my feet took me. And in all the places I journeyed whether it was Kenya or Peru, I found people to be kind, open, and curious. I found generosity, selflessness, and a mutual yearning to know one another.

What is it about adulthood that has made me more fearful and less inclined to take risks? I don't think people are worse now than they were twenty years ago and I don't think the world offers any less beauty or insight. The world is still out there and I think, despite voices which echo litanies of fear, we should all strive to explore as much of it as we can, to know the faces of the other and realize that they are not so dissimilar from ourselves.

I do fundamentally believe in the goodness of people and of their potential to do beautiful things. I do still yearn to board a jet and find myself in a place where the language is challenging but people are generous and forgiving. I yearn to see myself reflected in the eyes of someone half a world away and be reminded that we are infinitely connected. There is no doubt, despite a history marred with staccatos of pain and chaos, that we all belong irrevocably and permanently to one another. The destiny of all of mankind has always depended on the joyful recognition of a fellow human in the exchange between strangers, on the intimacy of fingers-laced at sunset, and on the boisterous laughter that emerges from a primal place in the soul that is a tireless reminder that ecstasy is as much our inheritance as sorrow.