“It is all connected!”, they think, blissfully unaware that their next awareness will be one of feeling entirely disconnected from everything and everybody. Or vice versa (or, in one word: virtue).
Who are they? They are us! We want them to be split, though, in two neat rows: the wavy kind, dreaming of connection, and the particly kind, feet firmly on disconnecting ground. Each one of us.
Why? We can’t help ourselves. We make distinctions and then we identify with them. So we can help our selves? Yes. Does that mean we hate our selves? Yes. Otherwise we could not love others.
Dichotomies. Paradoxes. Dualisms. Contrasts. Dualities. That’s what we are made of. That is what we want to escape. Quicksand comes to mind. Feet firmly in connecting ground. Ripples through.
Wavy people are particular now. Particly people are all the wave. From East to West. And back again. Back?
Westerners are proud to be ‘particly’ people. All individual. A machine of individualism. Autistic almost. Boy, do Westerners hate wavy people with all that floating cosmopolitan connectedness. Psychosis is a thing of the past. A thing to be eradicated, together with the religions rooted in it. We root no more. We root for no one except for our Western values, of not rooting mainly.
We turn our backs to the wavy East and march on. As if the earth was flat. Our march is long. We would rather rot than root. That become our roots. Our identity is that we have to be ruthless, separate from any whole which would limit our freedom. We are proud of our identity. It is what connects us. We feel it and there we are, in the East, victims of our own mass psychosis.
Meanwhile, we send shockwaves through the East. ‘Wavy’ people disintegrating together with their roots. In search of the particular particle making particly people such success, they went as a wave (what with their roots!) to the West. Anxious about all this change, it is disconnected they feel. Naked. Cold. Autistic even. Trying to hold on to their roots. And holding on with a vengeance.
Knowing for ages that earth is a globe the wave traveled slowly until it reached the West. Their roots rotted for lack of life being blown into them. Maintaining the ritual means to lose the life of the longing of a feeling of belonging. They are proud of their particularity. Willing to fight for their authenticity. They feel it and there they are, in the West, victims of their mass authenticity.
And so it goes in eternal circles. Unless we accept we’re all wavy particly people. All alike rooted, sometimes ruthless but always rerouting; connected and disconnected, each in a personal mix of their own. So the world goes round, all wavy particly people forming our own particular sort of connections. The thing is we have all accepted this wavy & particly nature. It is still just too easy to let us be split apart by self-hatred.