Community

Words we choose matter. I remember having to trudge through reading Madame Bovary as witness to Gustave Flaubert’s “le mot juste” … the right word. Flaubert believed in and practiced precise expression; avoiding the abstract and vague thought or word. For all my many years in school; all the hours of education – I have forgotten more than remembered many of the lessons and learning. But “le mot juste” , I remember. As much as I have forgotten the story of Bovary, I have always remembered the author striving to find the perfect word. That each word mattered to the overall story. Words have power. Words convey images. That Hester’s letter was Scarlett and not simply red. That the great whale was white and not grey. That Oliver wanted … more. Words have power.
In a relaxed conversation by the lake this past summer, I shared with a friend my growing dislike for a word. It seems a popular word to describe a group to which I am a member. It is a fine word but I am not quite sure it is “le mot juste”. And lately I have heard this word pop up more in more in cultural and political conversations. And correctly so. Tribes. To be tribal. To act as a tribe. To be part of the tribe. To have found my tribe. I dislike the word tribe. As it popped up more and more in conversations, I found it less and less appealing. Not cringing so much as a feeling of “is that really what we are.” I really do not want to be in a tribe.
The definition of tribe = “ a social division in a traditional society consisting of families or communities linked by social, economic, religious, or blood ties, with a common culture and dialect, typically having a recognized leader.”
So perhaps what I recognize is the divisive context behind the word. If you are part of another tribe, by nature of exclusion you cannot be part of mine. Exclusion and division. Words matter.
The word I like much better is community.
Community = “ a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.”

I sensed I was more about community when I sat on the stones at swimmers beach at Dover Harbor and watched. Swimmers floating toward shore, greeted by volunteers wielding cups of water, coffee, cocoa and handing out scones and smiles. The endless, boundless smiles. I sensed community when walking slowly out on the frozen Lake Memphremagog for our winter swims. Community of swimmers, volunteers, support, friends, mentors, humans being their best.
So I won’t be using tribe so much to describe where I am these days. I have found my community of human, beings doing their best together, not apart.

As the Black Eyed Peas put it – “we are one tribe.” And doesn’t that really make us all just one big community.
Cheers
Louise