Being part of
So we’re born: thrust into a world of already existing people and groups; of systems so seemingly rigid, definite. We grow up, slowly awakening: becoming aware of the diverseness and inequalities that exist, to different degrees and extents. Naturally, we soon start reflecting upon our own place in all of it. At five, still so innocently young, we instinctively understand that the street corner beggar exists on a lower level of fortune than our own: our life seems to surpass his merely by cause of birthright. As quickly, we identify the ones in our close surrounding whose whole beings appeal to us more than others, be it due to their appearance, possessions or character. We imitate and strive, vowing to become like them. It is here our first goals form.
We’re getting older now, taking our first, fumbling steps in what will be an operose pursuit of an identity of our own. Some of us will need 10 years; others a lifetime: they will never find one. It is within this pursuit social groups play an instrumental role. They are, each and every to their own, keys to togetherness; tickets away from the loneliness that is the human existence. But also: vouchers for identities. What we’re paying so dearly for, with our freedom and our singularity, is the very stamp we’ve been so quick to use on others but, all along, longed for ourselves. Finally, we exclaim, a place to rest for our nomadic social souls. Finally: something to belong to, be a part of.
I’ll do whatever it takes.
— Imagine Dragons