Some of you may have noticed that, for the most part, I don’t write about “you” or the very general “one” in my texts. Every now and then, I share a personal story of my own to be more personal and precise. Most of the time, however, I write observations about “us”—as people, as a society, as a culture.
This can trigger resistance in some people when I write about things that might affect some people, but not that specific person. And it’s true. This “we” can never be precise enough to truly express who is included and who is not. Nevertheless, it is a very conscious decision on my part to write in this way.
I am a part of you and everyone else
I do not see myself as separate from the person I am speaking with (in this case, you) or from other people. Even though each and every one of us brings a deeply unique life story to the table, we are all connected, and we can truly immerse ourselves in that connection when we realize that, at our core, we all experience the same emotions and feelings. We all know fear, sadness, anger, joy, despair, longing, and so much more. What triggers these feelings within us can vary greatly and often changes over the course of our lives, as we are constantly evolving. Nevertheless, these feelings are what connect us at the deepest level.
Dealing with different life realities
Even though we all experience certain feelings, the fact remains that each of us lives in a different reality and perceives things differently. And I do not presume to truly understand how someone feels who has grown up or lives in a reality completely different from my own.
We can strive to understand the realities of others’ lives and also accept that they are different. We can try to find common ground and agree, for example, that the color of a birch tree’s trunk is white and the color of its leaves is green. Yet we can never know for certain whether the other person truly perceives all of this in exactly the same way we do.
It is also a special human gift to be able to put ourselves in another’s shoes—to completely let go of our own reality and embrace that of another being, whether human, animal, plant, or fungus. Through this, we can learn to empathize with that other being. And yet we never know for certain whether we have truly let go of our own reality of life completely. For as long as we still perceive ourselves as “self,” we are not the other. It also quickly becomes difficult to find the right words, since I personally have not yet experienced consciously letting go of my self so completely that I was nothing but the other being. For on some level, I was still me…
But philosophizing about this would go too far here…
It does, however, show how important it is to recognize that we have our own reality of life, and at the same time can immerse ourselves in that of the other, thereby gaining a completely new perspective on the world, yet (probably) never being able to fully become the other person or the other being.
Becoming “We”
Even though we cannot—or, more often than not, find it very difficult to—completely let go of our own reality, it is entirely possible to expand our reality through that of others and become a “we.”
When we put ourselves in others’ shoes, we can expand our own reality. For example, if I put myself in the shoes of the blackbird in my garden or the linden tree by the roadside, I can expand my reality through theirs—at least to the extent that I have practiced this empathy.
Then, as I go through life, I notice when a particular being’s habitat is restricted. Or when it rejoices at receiving food, or when it mourns the loss of someone or something. All these needs look different for every living being.
Nevertheless, I can expand my perception and my reality of life into a “we,” and this “we” becomes ever more diverse, broader, and nuanced the more I consciously immerse myself in the realities of others’ lives and train this ability.
When “we” triggers resistance
Still, it can trigger resistance when someone talks about “we,” and I don’t want to be included in that “we.” Then I find all sorts of reasons why I have to distance myself from it. Because I’m definitely not a murderer, or a misanthrope, or whatever else I absolutely refuse to be.
But then I’m always trapped in my “I.” Then I start from my individual reality. But if I then dare to take the step and immerse myself in a “we” reality, then I, too, am a cold-blooded murderer, because I’ve already swatted quite a few mosquitoes, stepped on quite a few ants or snails, or eaten quite a few animals and plants. Because just because I don’t perform the act myself doesn’t mean I’m not an accomplice.
When I immerse myself in a “we” reality, I might also be a misanthrope because I don’t respect my own needs enough, or because I despise people who cause others great suffering.
Therefore, at least my approach is that whenever someone speaks of “we are this way or that way, or do this or that,” and I sense resistance within myself, I step out of my individual reality and immerse myself in a shared reality. Because even if I don’t perceive it that way, it is quite obvious that this other person perceives the world that way, and if that is their reality, then it is part of our shared reality.
When one distances oneself
The neutral “one” is very common in the German (and even to some degree in the English) language when writing about general topics. I deliberately avoid it because it automatically distances us from ourselves and from others. It makes the story so impersonal that no one needs to feel addressed by it, and that it doesn’t affect anyone, and nobody cares about the things I write.
Even though it’s important for some texts and in some circumstances to have this neutral form in the language, it still doesn’t fit any of my texts, since at their core, my texts are always about connection. And I can only build that by speaking of you and me and us.
You, too, are a part of me and of everything
I often feel that—especially when it comes to marketing copy, blogs, or similar content—we’re frequently encouraged to address readers directly. Yet, or perhaps precisely because of this, I usually refrain from addressing you directly.
Whenever I do that, I separate myself from you. Then we are no longer walking the path together. Then I go my way and you go yours. And even though each of us must walk our own path, the fact remains that we are always connected to one another. Whether we want to be or not. Whether we are aware of it or not. And it doesn’t matter whether we’re very closely connected because we’re walking a very similar path, or only loosely connected because our paths lead us in completely different directions.
I talk about myself more often than I do about you because I know more about myself than I do about you. About you and your life, I can only make a lot of assumptions, but there’s a high probability that they’re not true.
Besides, it often implies a hierarchy. Then I’m indirectly saying that I’m different from you. That I’m either better or worse. That you’re either further along or less so. And that brings me back to my own individual reality, where I usually feel lonely and alone. But when we walk our path together, one of us is stronger in one aspect, and the other in another. Yet we are still on this journey together.
Why “we” is so important on the path to healing
When we, as a society, as humanity, as a collective, are on the path to healing, both a clear recognition of the distinction between “I” and “you,” and a clear recognition of the ever-present connection of our “we” are important steps.
Only when we learn to find a path together that works for everyone do we have a chance at a “better” future (whatever that may mean). As much as it may be necessary on the healing journey to embrace self-empowerment and recognize what we hold in our own hands, it is just as important to recognize that we nevertheless all influence one another and are connected. Whether we want to or not. And whether we perceive it at the moment or not.
