Belonging

Belonging is a state that every human, I think, must experience in order to feel right enough to be able to feel at ease with others and the world. Admittedly, the places and people where I have felt I have belonged have altered slightly over the years – but that will come later. First I want to think about why the notion of belonging, of fitting in, is so important to us.

Obviously and initially it’s basic instinct to fit in with the pack. We want to feel like we can label ourselves (even if it is as someone who is unlabelled) so we know where we and others stand. A label, it seems, puts others at ease. So what was it in my younger years that made me venture into my very conservative, let’s say, preppy secondary school wearing pink skinny jeans and a yellow flat peak? Was I making a statement? Or was I inadvertently rejecting that particular pack? And why?

I guess it didn’t suit me, that world.

When it comes to people, a lot of your label comes with how you dress. I discovered this in its truest form on a recent excursion into London where my father showed my around some of his favourite haunts from his lawyering twenties. As he showed me around the beautiful buildings tucked away in the secret gardens of London, I felt extremely relieved that I had opted for a pair of smart jeans and a blue and white striped shirt. There was a garden that was not specifically reserved for the lawyers studying at Grey’s Inn, but would anyone else venture there willingly to be surrounded by all that class, education and pinstripe? Those training to become barristers must dine in their hall with the older and more experienced barristers as part of their education. This is a remaining tradition, because young’uns can learn a lot about the business from their elders. But I couldn’t help the nagging feeling that it was also to instigate the notion of ‘a way of being’ in those young minds.

As lovely as it was, I didn’t feel I belonged there in the elegant halls, the sweeping gardens, the French bistro or the wine bar that had not so long ago held onto a tradition that they would not serve anyone at the bar wearing jeans, trainers, or who was female. It was all very exclusive, but not exclusive to those with money, political views, career or anything I can specifically put my finger on. I’m pretty sure someone who feels at home there would have done a better job than I.

It is not unknown among those who know me that my favourite place in the entire world is on my uncle’s farm. I am more attached to that place than I am to my own home, in which I have lived for seventeen years. I am not at all attached to my home, for which I can give absolutely no reason. But striding about on that farm is often the happiest you’ll find me. It is also known among those who know me that I take part in pheasant shooting. Yes, they are sold and eaten before you get all uppity about a bird twice as idiotic as slugs. It’s traditional and brilliant fun. I don’t shoot, I’m a beater (easy with that imagination of yours reader) which means a strict line of us rumbles through the woodland scaring birds into the air. The shooters pay, the beaters get paid. Two very different types of people. I know which activity I prefer, but noticing the difference between these two ‘clubs’ of people, once again puts me at unease.

We like who we like and the opposite. We appreciate those things that remind us of good in our lives. We associate ourselves with those who have the same hobbies, interests as we do. However, sometimes, for example being thrown together with a random group of people at uni with none of the above seems to work too. We are a group with wavering lines like a tide line. Maybe it’s because I’ve only been friends with them for a year, but they are not a pack to which I heartily belong such as my old clan from school…but then again I have known them for a good eight years… but is time that much of a factor? As in studying language, I see the make up of a person come from variables such as their education, class, raising, home town and most importantly (in my opinion) life experiences.

I don’t know all the places and people to where and to whom my soul belongs truly. I am too young and have not experienced enough. Parents, obviously. First loves, obviously and for who knows how long (although I am of the mind that everyone you have loved keeps a piece of you…not soul or heart or any cliché like that. However, there are a couple o’ pieces I’d like back) but I’m heading to bed thinking about what experiences in my life have led me to automatically feel right among some folk and places and not in others. I am good at being myself. It seems an odd thing to say, but consider how often you reveal your true colours to the world. After many years of trying not to, I just do now. It’s easier. Being yourself brings you that little bit closer to maybe potentially knowing yourself. So at this point, we have to settle with knowing what/who/where we feel…simply right with. Where we fit. Take care though. It’s going to be a long while until we know why.