In which Our Hero remains visible without belonging.
Let’s talk about social place.
In 2018, I bought a van. My most formative non-familial relationship was ending, and I was on a personal journey.
I spent seven years seeking my place. Living in a van, driving around. My place had been shattered, my foundation upended. I sought the right group of people, the right social place.
I found the regional Burning Man community. Not the community at the big Burning Man festival itself, but the smaller independent organizations that circle the same principles. I found, perhaps for the first time, a community that accepted me and to which I wanted to contribute. I made art that touched people’s lives. Some of them still speak about it, 5+ years later.
I moved to New York City in search of a partner. Nearing 30, with my friends all partnering and beginning to spawn, my situation became one of “Is this a part of life you want to have? Because you can seek it later… but it’s much easier if you try now.” One woman broke my heart. I flew to Australia to write a play. Returning to New York a year later, I met my now-partner. Our first date was 11 days long. For our second date, we drove across the country together. She sublet her apartment, and joined me in nomadicness for the last 2 years.
I wonder sometimes about social place. I occupy an unusual position. Enough of a dilettante in most areas to be able to hold my own. Friendly and affable, generally found to be helpful, but without roots.
For most of my childhood, I had a single dedicated friend. Schoolwork was trivial; most of my fellow students I found uninteresting. I’ve left each major experience with some dedicated friends. And a host of pleasant acquaintances, too.
I’ve never really been a group guy. I have the sort of preference: “Instead of camping with your Burning Man group, how about I camp next to you and we hang out every day?”
If part of life is finding who you are and doing it on purpose,
at some point it’s worth accepting that I’ve never found a group to be home.
And probably never will.
Perhaps my belonging is episodic, relational, and lateral (not collective).
Still, sometimes it feels lonely.
Julian Wise 