Older text found: Becoming a witness.

We all have read books we have become deeply touched by.

In his novel Third Wish, Robert Fulghum introduces the concept of becoming a witness to somebody’s life. Two people agree on witnessing their lives. They agree to witness each other life stories as long as they can and to tell this story further.

Some philosophical schools argue that having children is not an altruistic act, but it’s our desire to be not forgotten, to leave “something behind”. Our children become witnesses of our existence.

Many single people tell me that ‘this or that’ experience was nice, but it would be much nicer if they could share it with somebody. “Happiness is only real when shared.” It’s not only that we existed, but also what was a part of it; what we saw, ate, smelled, etc. That our life was worth it.

We need our witnesses. We need proof of what we went through, what made us happy or sad, what brought us joy, and what fulfilled us, to share our (un)happiness because sometimes it’s just too hard to carry it alone.

And here we’re, in 2019, with all that social media and our desires to share and get liked. To collect all these thumps ups to prove that our lives are not only worth it but exceptional, special, unique… how much of that is driven by the simplest yet the biggest of all fears - fear of death, fear of to be forgotten once we don’t exist anymore?