For a while back there, it seemed we weren’t actually alone or fearful on this strange odyssey through the tangled web to find solace and comfort.
Every day can seem like a battle; we trudge onwards, chin out and self-reliant, searching in the forest for our own dreams not giving a damn about anyone else’s, afraid and bristling with mistrust.
But then, when disaster strikes, we stop and look for each other, and we become one big village all marching in the same direction.
Three weeks ago people were asking for jerry cans filled with fuel, water tanks, hats and shoes, gas bottles and fry pans, tools and lollies and cash.
And guess what?
They got it.
No questions asked, no charge, no repayments, no expectations.
You need help? We’re here and we’re on our way.
Steve the welder has got the generators, the hay bales and the fire in his belly; Tank the art man has a ute full of jerry cans and water and is taking cash donations; Meg the Rotarian has all the contacts; Philo the wine guy is collecting hats and shoes; Steve the fishing and hunting guy is handing out ammo for farmers with distressed animals and he’s appealing for more.
They were just a tiny platoon from the people I know who formed an army of helpers when the call went out to help the people of Longwood and Ruffy.
There were also the CWA ladies, the Rotarians, the Sikhs and the irrepressible Azem who fed the front line.
Convoys of tradies in utes delivered supplies and handshakes; people with power tools and handyman skills are now joining up to build fences; people like me with no real-world skills whatsoever are donating cash.
I could write a poem, but when someone needs socks, a comforting metaphor is not quite the same.
The rush to help was palpable.
You could see it happening through conversations in cafés and on the street.
Where does this energy come from?
And what does it all mean?
It means that despite what our phones, the TV news and tabloid papers tell us — people are essentially good.
Despite the politics of grievance, the flag waving and the ugly finger-pointing rise of One Nation, our real prime movers are not hate and fear, they are compassion and empathy.
Not everything in this life is transactional — I’ll do something for you if you promise to do the same for me.
Sometimes we just want to help our neighbours, full stop.
Would we still help if they were Asian, or African or Muslim?
Of course we would.
Times of crisis are reminders we are not solitary individuals hacking through the jungle driven by self-interest and fear.
Humans have never lived like that. We have always been a part of something larger.
Up there in the abstract sky it’s called society.
Down here on the hard ground it’s called community.
Community is something that rises up out of the ground like a big old tree with roots and branches that spread out and gather up all our individual strengths to create a powerful force to get things done.
At the top of the tree is a billboard that says: “We work better together.”
This image runs deep.
From the moment we are born we are dependent, but we learn we are not alone and that if we suffer, others can help.
Philo the wine guy agrees, and he has a lot of stories to prove it.
But right now he has enough hats and shoes, thank you very much.
John Lewis is a former journalist at The News.
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