Back in 2015, The Atlantic nailed it in how it threw shade on 12-step program Alcoholics Anonymous.
The article, now a classic in the push-back against that traditional mode of substance-abuse treatment, points out that the program offers fellowship.
Members are welcoming.
Members are accepting.
Members go the distance to be helpful.
Yes, there is an extreme sense of belonging.
Offering that appeals to what is probably so primitive in human natures: the longing to be part of.
The same dynamics seem to operate as a pull force in fundamentalist religion.
Sure, there is also the certainty provided by unambiguous beliefs. That creates a zone of mental safety. Hold that abortion is wrong and you will sleep soundly at night. Tough to turn that down.
As I found out in my six weeks participating in an evangelical church, the magic of total euphoria can be conjured up by simply being embraced fully by the minister and the congregation. A very seductive form of voodoo.
Not since I had become a passionate member of a 12-step program in 1981 had I experienced such an uplifting of my spirit.
They let me in. They said I could remain in the magic circle as long as I stuck with the rules.
But, somehow, my background in critical reasoning shook me into admitting, no, maybe I didn't really belong. Not there. And, I even accepted: maybe not anywhere.
Increasingly, it's difficult to really belong. Those with more followers, likes, shares, and comments on social networks can doom us to the assumption that, no, we aren't welcome there. We are deluding ourselves that we are a part of. Eventually, there will be the message, blunt or wrapped in the velvet glove of civility, that we should exit. Leave the cool kids to enjoy each other, without us.
No, the sandboxes of the digital era aren't really welcoming.
Here is my takeaway, at least for now: As long as we fail to belong to ourselves - that is, treasure our little dance on planet earth for what it is - we are vulnerable to the machinations of institutions and individuals promising fellowship.
Do I finally got it that self-love is the ultimate play-out of belonging? That is, that we belong to ourselves?
I don't know.
Over and over again I have been through the wringer on that one. Back in 2014, I had positioned and packaged myself to be the ultimate victim of the longing to belong syndrome. Here is that story. Unfortunately, the lessons had not been learned back then.
My search for an emotional, social, and spiritual home had continued.
Perhaps one perk of having been a liberal arts student should have been being immersed in the history of ideas. Over and over again there had been evidence of how alone mankind is. Being separate is the reality. That's a central theme in Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse."
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