Do You Know Your Place in the World? (And Why It Matters)�� ��

Do you know where you stand among the seven billion people who live on this planet?����

It���s an interesting question, especially for us overfed Westerners. For me, it���s been a long, slow journey to��understand��that there actually��are��other people in the world.����

It���s��like this��great old New Yorker cover, painted��by��Saul Steinberg.��

To the average myopic New Yorker, the world beyond the Hudson River is a narrow stretch of corn belt followed by a shred of California, the Pacific, then��far, far away ��� the rest of the world.����

In the busy swirl of our lives, can we seriously take the time to wonder about, say,��the��million-plus��migrants��trying��desperately to��save their own lives?��Or��the hundreds of girls and women��Boko��Haram��abducted��who��are being forced to become suicide bombers?����

How about the homeless and destitute right here in our own home towns?��Or the millions of young black men trapped in the school to prison pipeline?��Can we really ���get��� what they are going through?��

Do we even really care?��

Our crafty minds kick in:��why should we care? That���s happening��somewhere else,��maybe��a million miles away.����

It���s really not our concern, we tell ourselves.��

Truthfully, it���s not time or even distraction that���s the issue��here. We��remain myopic to the dilemmas of the rest of the world because��in the Western world,��we live in a highly privileged society.��Our needs are met. We have��abundant��food, homes, water. We have shopping malls, air conditioning, fast food��and catering apps. We have��time to listen to the news, fret about politics or global warming, and attend protests.��

Not surprisingly,��millions��of people would love to be in our shoes.����

It is painful��to acknowledge��this, because to do so brings up stuff:��a sense of��privilege, and the shadowy feeling that it is��not earned.��Then there���s entitlement and guilt.����

We���d��have to acknowledge��all��the suffering in the world, which is vast.����

And we are small.��

How can we possibly hold all this pain? A feeling of complete and utter hopelessness��washes over us��when we consider it�������So��we pull out our phones to see who called, or texted, or emailed, or pinged us on social media.��We consider a quick game of Words��With��Friends.��

We��avoid��the singular awareness that we are part of a vast sea of humanity ��� one that shares common problems��across the globe,��as well as��the��local ones.��

That awareness, once truly seized, invites a sense of responsibility. Once we are touched by truly understanding another person���s plight, our hearts open up.��We can���t help it — it���s simply what we do.��

Here���s what is truly interesting:��it turns out we are all suffering.����

That���s what being a human is really all about.����

While we may not be suffering on the scale of a displaced migrant who���s lost everything and has been living in a refugee camp for the last year, we may be living in an empty marriage. Or our children won���t speak to us. Or we���re sick, or our parents are sick ��� or our �������

You get the point.����

Within that chrysalis of suffering, we are all being re-formed. Like precious metal we are being melted down, and so can once again live, free from our prior restraints. This is what suffering actually does for us.��

For me, I emerged from my own period of huge loss with my senses on high alert.��Now I���m��still basically raw,��even though it���s been��more than five��years since my daughter���s death. So ��� yeah. Now I do feel my place in the world, and all the responsibility that comes with it.��I���m hoping I always will.��

It���s like being an overly peeled onion.��So��I feel far, far more connected to the rest of my fellow��denizens of this planet.����

At the same time, I���m no longer caught in my own little survival scenario. The bottom already dropped out once, so now there���s room to stop, breathe and look around.��This is the true privilege of crisis.��

When you realize this, your own story��becomes��a bore. Meanwhile,��the rest of the world matters far more than you��could have expected.��For me,��I���ve��become aware of something far bigger than just me — the fantastic web of humanity that surrounds us all.����

It���s true.��We��are��all connected: You, me and the guy who just gave us the finger on the highway. Likewise for our IRS auditor, our kid���s homeroom teacher, and an incarcerated person on the other side of the city you��will probably never know.����

They matter just like we matter. How do I know this?����

Sometimes, just occasionally,��I read the paper and I cry. That���s really all I have to go on.��

Today, just for a moment, try to imagine��that��you are far more powerful than you realize. That your big, beating heart really can help save the world, in some small, considered way.��And that you are intrinsically connected to every other person under the sun.��

All you have to know is where you stand in this great cosmic web of life.��It is, indeed, a place of power.��

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