If human beings live for connection, then what do we do when a connection is lost?

One of the biggest revelations to me about people and what we thirst for came through the books “How People Grow” (Cloud and Townsend) and “Searching for God Knows What” (Miller). Both talked about the fundamental need for human connection, and how we spend all of our life seeking that in all the right and wrong places. It never occurred to me as tangibly as then that that was what people were doing, and that was what I was doing too.

Along the way I’ve made and lost various connections. Some are harder to make. Some are harder to lose. And each connection is a little different. 

Being in London somewhat alone has made me realise all over again how important connections are. Some days you don’t talk to a single person, but you have a short conversation where a spark of connection flickers, and the day feels whole. Some days you are in the midst of people for hours on end, only to realise that none of them is really interested in you or who you are, and nobody can see beyond what you represent — your race, your nationality, your looks. And those days feel empty.

Even in these short 2.5 months there have been connections made and then lost. There also have been connections made way back when, back home, that are flickering and fading. It feels as though the easiest connections are made with people who have similarities as you. Most palpably this comes in the form of people from the same country and cultural context. Perhaps that’s what makes connections with people who are different so special, because they’re harder to come by. But like a bright, rainbow-speckled spark, they fizzle out fairly quickly too.

And at the end of the day I guess we just need to figure out what/whom we’re plugged into. Because when everyone else drifts away, inevitably, that’s all we have left–the one connection that holds on to us, even when we flounder.