Belonging by Martin Edwards

Who am I? Why am I here? These are questions we have asked ourselves since the dawn of humankind. 

From the earliest moment that we left our simian cousins behind and developed a higher consciousness, our species has looked up in wonderment at the stars. We stare, and we observe the infinity of existence. The enormity of the universe is far beyond the visual limitations of our tiny cornea, and beyond the boundaries of our imagination. It is at this point of realisation we feel so small and insignificant. But, I can assure you, each one of us belongs.

Every cell, every organism, every living creature has a place and a purpose. Though as sentient beings, we sometimes struggle with that concept, because of the sheer enormity of it. So we ignore it. Instead, we focus on what we can see, feel with emotion and physically touch. We often limit our imagination to the normality and worries of our daily existence—to the things that we think can harm us. And for that reason it is not unusual to feel alone, without connection, without a reason to ‘be’.

When we set off on a journey, we like to know where we are going. We arm ourselves with a map and a compass. There is a start point and an end point. We step out into the world and off we go. But sometimes the route is not always clear, and we get diverted. Perhaps we find somewhere we like and we decide to stop and enjoy this place. Or we meet someone and go off with them on another route all together—as a shared experience. Maybe there is something in our way and we have to go around it. Sometimes that obstacle feels insurmountable and we want to give up, and we feel we have reached as far as we can go—but, on most occasions, it never is. 

In reality, there is only one journey we are on. It is one that consists of lots of brief journeys—from your repetitive daily commute, to your once in a lifetime ‘around the world’ trip. But they are incidental to the big one.

What is this journey? All matter of the universe shares it. That journey is life itself. The start point is our birth. The end point, for our conscious self, is our death. As humans, we live and die—just as planets do. What is beyond that is beyond our understanding of the known universe. All we know for certain is that the atoms of our physicality are repurposed for another use. But they continue to go forward, away and outward from the centre into infinity—just in another form. Our spirit and our soul dissipate into the life force that surrounds us. Perhaps that journey also continues, perhaps in another direction altogether.

As a child, on a warm summer’s day, I used to lie down on my back upon the freshly mown lawn, arms outstretched, palms and eyes to the sky. 

Each individual stem of grass felt soft on the back of my hands. The soil below, baked hard from the sun, was my bedrock, my foundation. If I turned my face either left or right, I might notice a tiny insect making its way up or down that stem, minding its own business, doing whatever it felt it needed to do. He or she appeared purposeful, sometimes nonchalant, sometimes hurried and determined. I would then turn my head skywards. Wispy clouds would float across from one horizon to the other, and I imagined I could see through the fine azure to the deeper blue and darkness of the galaxy itself.

I swear I could feel the gentle rotation of the earth. I was as at one with the ground deep beneath my body and on a voyage through time and space. This enormous piece of rock and water, this beautiful blue and green sphere with its protective ring of atmosphere, is a cosy and comfortable mobile home to myself and my fellow passengers, those busy insects.  It is our giant, life-sustaining spaceship. Even back then, I felt I belonged, and I could sense that shared experience.

I now know I am a constituent part of something much bigger - a small cog in a very large wheel. I may not be sure of what that cog is supposed to do, by definition. However, I know that life is a journey, and it is one of discovery. Most importantly, I know I am built of the same stuff as every other small thing in this universe, and I am just as insignificant, but as important, as every other—why else would I exist?

To conclude, as much as I probably will never find a complete answer to ‘why am I here?’, I know who and what I am. I may not yet fully understand what my reason to ‘be’ is, but I know the journey I am on is a long one.

So, I shall continue to endeavour to ‘be’, to discover, and continuing on my long journey, I shall endeavour to ‘be’ long.