Dear Sharer and Artist,

For Spring Break, my friends and I went to Maine, then drove two cars from there to Quebec. During one of our long car rides, the friends in each car didn’t see the friends in the other car for hours. And of course, sometimes the other car got left behind because of a red light.

Our cars became so disconnected, with one trying to catch up to the other.

The “disconnect” could’ve been–and was–solved when Kimrey simply called the other car to tell them where we were waiting for them for them to catch up. But even after the issue was handled, Mike said to Kimrey, “Hey, tell them to also turn the radio to 93.3. ‘Kiss from a Rose’ by Seal is playing!”

It was such an innocent request, but I couldn’t help but be reminded of two things:

First, I was reminded that one part of the Chinese character for “friend” includes two pictographs of the moon side by side. It was derived that way because even if two friends are on different sides of the world, they can always share the moon. When one can’t see it anymore, the other can, and it’ll always remind them of each other.

Sharing isn’t limited to a candy bar, a carpool ride, or even a bank account. There are many things we can metaphorically and still effectively share: music, laughter, compliments, thank-you’s, the moon.

And second, I was reminded of one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Two years ago as I was walking to class, I saw two homeless men sitting close together in a corner, one holding a shabby-looking handheld radio close enough to both their ears so they could hear whatever music they could through the static.

But I don’t think they were just sharing a radio. I think they were sharing music, sharing art, sharing an experience.

I used to struggle in defending the usefulness of being a film major and how art–whether film, music, literature, theater, or painting–is as important as engineering, medicine, law, and the other “practical” studies. But now I remind people that art can educate us by showing how things are, can inspire us by showing what others can do, can empower us by showing what we can do, but most importantly, can connect us by showing, relating, and sharing the common human experience.

How many times have you had a rough day but instead of talking to someone, all you needed to do was listen to one or two songs?

How many times have you turned to what you’ve seen in movies to decide how to act in a certain situation because you’ve never encountered it or even witnessed it in real life?

How many times have you read a passage in a book and couldn’t help but highlight it because it so poetically described all your aspirations, fears, love, and pain?

How many times have you felt more connected to a person just because you both relate to or enjoy a certain song or artist?

How many times have you felt more connected to a large group of strangers in the one minute after a powerful film, concert, or show you were all watching ended?

Making and consuming art are a means of sharing a human experience, and it’s one of the most selfless things a human can do.

Love Always,
Nathan