“Does a falling tree make a sound if no one’s around to hear it?”, Camille asks as I start to shut my eyes for sleep. I perk up, always down to engage in questions about objective vs perceived reality. We go on to recite the usual arguments and then lay it to rest.
But I don’t go to sleep. My mind wanders to a related question but this one I pose only internally, given the hour: Do we need people to witness our lives in order for them to be meaningful? Was McCandless right that happiness is only real when shared? Or was it the dying thoughts of someone who took solitude too far?
Are introverts just people who retreat because we rather be alone than in a sea of people who make us feel lonely? Lone wolves who leave the pack, strip ourselves bare of expectations and pressures so we can run naked and free; simultaneously sending cries to the sky in the hopes that our true pack will find us?
I both love and hate the fact that holding hands with someone and marveling at the stars together is more moving than doing so on my own. Is that a weakness of character? Don’t get me wrong, the stars still move me to tears on a regular basis. But those tears come from a humble reckoning that I am nothing, while gazing at the galaxies with another makes me feel like they exist just to be witnessed by us. Like the great artist knew there’d be two lovers who would truly appreciate his work in that moment and that’s all the inspiration he needed to create it. I guess I’m not cut out for this whole ego-death thing.
But even more interesting to me than the question of meaning without community is why it’s so damn hard and rare to feel truly seen. I wish it didn’t feel so fucking amazing. Perhaps social media is just our desperate attempt to chase that feeling. And it always falls short, which makes it addicting. It’s pretty wild that you can live in the most populous city of the country, or in an intimate small town community, or in a relationship for 6 years…and still rarely feel it.
But then an elderly stranger selling junk at a flea market comes along and makes you weep with a message that’s exactly what you need, speaking to a soul you didn’t know you have and making you believe in guardian angels. Or you can lock eyes with someone on the dance floor and never share a word but realize the song has connected your heartbeats and you feel like you’re unraveling a secret of the universe together. Is there a rational explanation for these connections? I don’t really want one. Let’s preserve the mystery. But it would be nice to know how to unlock them a little more often.
My grandma has always advised me not to chase the flames. “Nourish the burning coals instead” she’d say. I recognize the wisdom in that. But perhaps there’s something special about transience. We try so hard to endure the test of time; to make our name last; to make our love last, but what if resilience is against our nature? What if we’re meant to be like butterflies, emerging into this world with magnificent glory for no apparent reason but to be seen for a short while? Are they not worth it just because they only get two weeks? Or is it enough to fly onto the finger of a child playing make believe, and make him believe in fairies just this once? Perhaps the rarity of being seen is what gives it its magic.
Maybe Plato was right and the Gods split us into pieces out of jealousy of our wholeness. We wander around the world searching for those missing bits of us and when we find them, we are reminded of how amazing it felt to be one. And then we part ways, and it feels like heartbreak all over again…but at least we got to see ourselves for a moment.
Someday soon there may be more days behind us than ahead of us and we will reminisce on the feeling of those flames, as they’ve become less frequent. So while we can, let us relish in their warmth. And as the forests burn down around us, let us hold hands with our crush and witness the final song of each tree as it collapses, in case no one else is around to hear it.
SEEDS 