Find Someone Who Cares
This was the message that came up out of my sub-conscious as I walked home today.
As I walked home today here in Washington, DC, passing a few folks that I know and many that I do not know personally, I thought to myself one of those old saws used to dismiss our fellow travelers on this sphere “Find someone who cares.” - Have I done that? Do you, dear reader, care? What do you care about? I know that there are many who do care deeply for others as well we should! We should care about those who are responsible for making all the things that we take for granted these days. However, just because we should, doesn’t mean we do. Just because we can, doesn’t mean we will. I do think that we ought to, however. Think about just how interdependent we all are. Think about how the pace of change on so many fronts, accelerating continually, is causing us to feel that we can’t keep up. It’s daunting just opening my eyes and watching “The Passing Show” as it goes by. I often open my lens as well to catch something of “The Passing Show” and I comment on what I, and the camera lens on my iPhone 15 Pro Max, are capturing as I walk down the street.
Today, I took a second to look into the 42 bus to the Kennedy Center as it stopped by the corner of Connecticut and R Street NW here in Washington DC. Aboard were many people who, collectively, mean something to a host of people elsewhere on the globe. They come together for the trip on public transportation and go apart, essentially alone with each other, but all those connections that are invisible to my eye, exist. They keep us going - people who care about us do. So, finding those who care here on Substack is just one among many possible mediums.
Sometimes someone will strike up a direct conversation with me here and I must admit that I am somewhat reticent to really open up to them. Sometimes I do what I can to brush them off because I fear being set up and, let’s face it, there are a lot of folks out there trying to run some sort of game on others. Then again, sometimes a person is just being nice and might just not have ulterior motives. Sometimes I can sense that, but I’m apt to err on the side of caution rather than being open at first. I don’t have a lot of fear of others. I know how to block if anything goes sideways. Still, as I expressed on “Vulerability on Substack” some time ago, we are all making ourselvews vulnerable by having the temerity to write down our innermost thoughts.
My question to all of you is “Do you care?” If you do, why do you care and what are you doing to show it. Me, I’m on the fence. I want to connect through this medium with as many of you as I possibly can. I want to find out what makes you tick and learn from you all what experience has taught you. I’m keen to go on doing this as long as I am able. In the meantime, I’m just full of curiosity - wandering and wondering simultaneously.
Onward!
I care.
Because it reassures me that someone is out there, I care.
Because I am of the belief that others will only care for me if I care for them, I care.
Because it only takes one to connect with another, I care.
Because what else is there, really, I care.
Yes — I do care.
But not always in loud or visible ways. Sometimes it’s quiet, internal, slow to reveal itself.
I care about the things I can’t always fix.
About the people I pass, the ones I’ll never speak to, but still feel connected to somehow.
About the overwhelming pace of everything, and how it chips away at our ability to remain human and soft.
I get what you said about being reticent. Vulnerability on here feels like walking around with your chest unzipped.
And yes — sometimes people are playing games. But sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they mean exactly what they say. And maybe that’s rare, but it still matters when it happens.
So yes — I care.
About people who wonder.
About people who ask instead of assuming.
About those who walk through the world with their eyes open, even when it’s too much.
And maybe I’m writing this partly to remind myself, too. That caring quietly doesn’t mean it’s not real.
So thank you — for writing it out loud.
Onward.