Followers

I see I have 9 followers, whatever that means. I interpret it as a vote of interest in what I have to say, at least now and then. (This blogspot system doesn’t give many privileges to followers, like getting the posts by email. If anybody would prefer to get them that way, let me know.)

Blogspot aside, the word “follower” is not one I like. It has a fawning quality to it. I am not after followers and I am not inclined to be one. Adoring or being adored triggers ego stuff for me. I am more comfortable with equality—equal adoration all around.

When I say it triggers ego stuff I am cluing you in to the fact that I know the problem is not with followers or leaders but with me. I do not bow easily to people who are clearly superior to me in one way or another.

Here is a story. Yesterday I examined the possibility of signing up for yet another online class—I seem to be doing this a lot lately. This one was called “Sacred Activism,” a topic that is close to my heart. It sounded like the kind of thing I should be interested in, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the kind of thing I should know enough about so I wouldn’t have to sign up for a class. (Ego speaking. Maybe true, maybe not.)

One of the lectures was to be by a writer I admire greatly. Honestly, I would pay to hear her. On the other hand, there was the course organizer. I had once tried to contact him to discuss a topic of mutual interest; he happened to live in my neighborhood so I proposed lunch. I never got a response from him. I listened to his introductory video for this course and he sounded really full of himself, like the kind of person who tries to have followers. The kind of person who expects himself to know more than you do about everything. The kind of person who doesn’t have time for the likes of me.

It is probably true that I am not in his league and he has better things to do than have lunch with strange women who contact him out of the blue. And it hurts my ego to be reminded of that. If I signed up for his class I would be mentally sniping at him every time I heard his wise-gushy voice. Besides, the scheduling was inconvenient. So I didn’t sign up.

And thus I deprived myself of an opportunity, perhaps, to improve myself. Perhaps not. But the ego moved in and abruptly limited my options. Refusing to sign up was a protective act. A little bit of fear involved, and anger, blocking any potential love.

I admire people who are able to be followers. Following can be an act of pure, unselfconscious love. Great followers set aside their egos and take delight in the strengths and glories of other people. Perhaps I actually admire followers more than leaders, come to think of it, but I have trouble seeing myself as either one. 

I prefer the circle of equals. Hi, followers! Welcome to my circle.