Automated and Isolated

We are pulled along, mesmerized and almost automated, going 65—over the speed limit, but we keep up with the flow of traffic. We take in our fellow travelers and learn what they want to teach us about themselves by noting the make of their cars, perhaps the ornament that hangs over the dash, the identity they announce on their vanity plates and their convictions and beliefs professed on bumper stickers…. Despite all the efforts, I still register fear. It feels impersonal. Streaming along here, we do indeed seem to be “a fragmented society,” each of us isolated and sealed into our tins, each of us vaguely aware that we want something more, something to live by and a way to live it fully and in community, something beyond the business of mere survival.

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