I read recently that part of US military training involves teaching what we absolutely need for survival.  The “rule of three” describes a hierarchy of needs, so in a life or death survival situation you can remember what is most important. You can survive only 3 seconds without hope, 3 minutes without oxygen, 3 hours without shelter in extreme weather, 3 days without water, 3 weeks without food and 3 months without love and companionship.  When you look at the hierarchy, what is interesting are the first and last ones.  You can’t live even a few seconds without hope in a crisis, because you will give up.  And you can’t live more than a few months in isolation, because we humans are meant to be with people, and being isolated can kill.

But how many of us think we need the following:  a six-figure income, top of the line electronics, a designer wedding, an Ivy League education for our children, the world’s adulation?  For me, raising kids in a hyper-competitive town, it’s easy to get lulled into thinking that I need others’ approval about my life or my kids’ achievements, or that I need a nicely renovated house.  But I don’t.  I need hope, air, shelter, water, food, and love, in that order.  Everything else is icing.

I have a theory about why so many of confuse our needs vs. wants and have a gnawing sense that we don’t have enough.  It’s because many of us don’t feel like we are enough.  How many of us in this modern world truly feel welcome and safe wherever we go?  How many of us feel like there is a long list of invisible rules that we have to follow in order to be deemed acceptable?  In our town, two of the oldest country clubs in the nation have long lists of requirements and contacts in order to be able to join.  One requires 14 different sponsors and a lot of money to even be considered.  (Rumor has it that Governor Deval Patrick, before he became governor, was almost turned down because he was black.) If you want to inquire about membership, you can’t because there is no website or phone number. They don’t want to find you; you have to find them.  This kind of exclusion has worked well for over a century, but I hear that these days they are having trouble attracting younger people who don’t want to jump through all those hurdles to be in a crowd that doesn’t include their friends. A lot of people no longer want the hassle and expense. People don’t want to feel excluded or pressured to conform to other peoples’ standards.

And yet today in Palo Alto, stressed teens are jumping in front of trains and killing themselves—and even though a lot of smart people are working on the issue, they haven’t really figured out what is going on, except assuming that the kids need less academic pressure.  But I wonder if something larger spiritually is going on. Many kids today feel that there are so many impossible rules for them to follow, such as top grades in dozens of AP classes and extracurriculars like starting a company before age 16, that they can’t keep up.  It’s not just about feeling successful, but more importantly about feeing acceptable in their parents’ and society’s eyes. If you don’t feel welcome just as you are, then it’s easier to feel like giving up.

In contrast, there is a greeting shared by the Zulu people of South Africa, which consists of two parts. One part is Sikhona, meaning “I am here to be seen”;  the other part is Sawubona, meaning “I see you.”  Imagine if the teenagers in Palo Alto were greeted with “I see you” every morning by their families and communities?  Imagine if country clubs were replaced with swimming clubs that let in anyone who wanted to come, and the staff greeted everyone with “I see you”?  That is something I would sign up for.

As you think about your world stage, remember what you need.  In addition to air, shelter, water and food, you need hope and you need love.  This week, try saying “I see you” when you meet someone and notice how your heart opens up.