9 May 2019

posted in:

Community

One of the ironies of living in a large city like Toronto is that it contains 3 million people and yet it can be hard to connect with others. Or just a special someone. Each morning we leave our homes and step onto streetcars and buses, or, for those lucky enough, to walk to work. And we are surrounded by our neighbours, our fellow city-dwellers. And yet we keep to ourselves, we shut ourselves off from the outside world.

Another, arguably greater, irony is that we end up feeling alone.

It isn’t until one day we decide to reach out, to attempt to connect, that we take a chance on something. What that something is we don’t really know for sure. For those of us who come from smaller towns, maybe it’s an attempt to make bonds with those we frequently see but don’t strictly know personally — the barista at the coffee shop, a bank teller, the crossing guard. We try to open up a discussion, perhaps only domestic inquiries. And if there is success — a connection is reached — then we have someone around us who knows us, at least a little. We have imparted a part of ourselves (and they to us) onto them.

My experience of this is on those days where I’m able to go down to a local park and take part in a game of pick up soccer. We are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to one another, and yet we share in common a love of a sport. We may disagree on certain aspects of life or culture, or politics, but when we see each other each Sunday afternoon, we smile at the sight of a familiar face. There is a trust here, the sort you don’t necessarily experience on your commute to the office each morning during the workweek. Here, instead, the point is communication, if only through the rules of sport. Is this not also a form of intimacy? A willingness to put aside our titles and social classes, and to simply be citizens amongst each other?

This is community.