Who Do You Belong To?

To understand my question, you could ask yourself “who do I love?” If more than one, you could prioritize your list by focusing on the single one you give your most time to. Maybe it’s your cat…or dog?

In the zoo of life, we belong to those who receive the bulk of our mental energies. When you’re in love, your lover will loom large at the top of the list devouring all your energy. If, however, you cheerfully give most of your time to your children, you belong to them. If you give hours on end to certain news commentators, you belong to them.

Perhaps, you give most of your time to yourself. This would mean you belong to yourself and whatever quality of thoughts you are harboring. It doesn’t take much to figure out that loners who go on killing sprees were enthralled with the negative thoughts that spoke to them. But perhaps you’re a Buddha in your own company.

The need to belong is innate in human nature. When we come into this world, we are attached to an umbilical cord that, up until the moment of birth, has made our life possible. Instinctively, we know that belonging to someone is part and parcel to our survival. Babies cry for their mamas. Even adults do. When my mother was in her moment of passing, I heard one of my siblings cry, “Mommy I love you” even though that term—mommy—was retired and replaced with “mom” when we became teenagers decades earlier.

In our earliest years, belonging is our security blanket, bringing us warmth, comfort, and the knowledge we are loved and cared for. In school we belong to clubs and organizations that settle us in other safe spheres of community. As adults, our need for belonging, bonding, and camaraderie expands, so we may become active members of religious, political, or social organizations. And this is where belonging, or perhaps even enslaving ourselves to a group mindset, may pull us away from ourselves, withering the tethers that connect us to our soul.

I’ve witnessed how easily it is for a friend or family member to fully dissolve in that sparkly pool of membership. They find joy and satisfaction in being accepted by their new “family,” blindly going along with the crowd as one of its useful idiots, following the orders of the day. They feel “at home” in the warm fuzziness of the group’s approval once they embrace the group’s notions of truth and start preaching it themselves. Soon, the group’s behaviors supplant their own, and they are applauded for their dedication and loyalty. This soothes them in ways family could not. Now, they can finally look in their mirror and know they’ve arrived, taking pride in that envied sweet spot where others admire them, also in ways family will not. They are now true believers with a true purpose—one that brands them mature and respectable.

But in the process, like a pumpkin at midnight, they become a bewilderment—someone their own family doesn’t recognize—especially as those core values and moral principles they were raised with have now been obliterated.

As a child I was taught to beware of strangers, like “Don’t ever talk to a stranger or get in a car with anyone you don’t know.” But I was never taught to take stock of who I belong to. It was a given. I belonged to my family, I belonged to myself, I belonged to God.

We can fool ourselves into thinking that ancestry sites will tell us who we belong to. They are good at showing us linkages to our forebears, but they can’t possibly map out who you belong to today. Only you know who you believe in, who you love, and who you give your thoughts to wholeheartedly. Are they those who would stand by you in your darkest hour? Are they kind in words and deeds to everyone? Or do you hear mouthfuls of words laced with hate? If it’s the latter, waste no time in changing the channel or leaving the group.

Chances are, Enrique Tarrio had no idea membership in the Proud Boys would land him in jail for 22 years. Instead, he imagined himself a Savior and was proud of it in the same way Hamas soldiers are proud of sharing photos of those they’ve killed with their mothers.

In today’s age of deep fakes, AI, and world leaders who spin tales to gain new acolytes, it’s important to assess who you truly belong to. Before I join anything or buy into anyone, my litmus test is this: do they practice all the good they preach? Actions always speak louder than words. But words matter, too. Are they filled with hope for the world or hate? Do they lead you into temptation or deliver you from evil? Only you can assess and know.