So You Want a Village, But Don’t Wanna Leave Your Couch?

So You Want a Village, But Don’t Wanna Leave Your Couch?

Today, I was doing my usual mindless scroll through Instagram when I stumbled on a post that made me stop, blink, and feel seen. A creative had written something so painfully true it practically reached out and slapped my soul. It said: “Everybody wants community, but nobody wants to be in one.” And just like that, my brain said: Yup, that’s it. That’s the tweet. I nodded to myself, probably out loud, because these days, that truth is louder than ever.

We all talk about wanting “our people,” “our tribe,” “our support system.” We crave connection. We want folks to show up for us when we’re falling apart at 2 a.m. on a random Tuesday, to help us move house or hold us when things fall apart. But here's the thing: being part of a community means you actually have to be part of it. Not just when it benefits you. Not just when the group chat is popping. Not just when you’re the main character.

In the times we’re living in, everything has turned into some twisted form of barter trade. We say things like, “I showed up for her event, so she better post about my small business,” or “They didn’t like my reel, so I’m skipping their birthday.” What happened to just... being there because you care?

Now don’t get me wrong — I’m not preaching martyrdom. No one’s saying be a doormat or pour from an empty cup. But we’ve turned relationships into scorecards, and love into a transaction. It’s wild how so many of us are waiting for people to invest in us, while offering nothing but emotional IOUs in return.

I miss the days when it wasn’t like this. When being friends didn’t require an aesthetic or a curated schedule. When just sitting in silence on the floor, eating random leftovers, was enough. When helping someone through a breakup or a bad job interview didn’t need to be posted to prove it happened. When presence was enough.

Nowadays, we’re all more connected than ever, and yet somehow, more lonely than ever too. We’re online all day, watching our friends’ lives through stories and filtered reels, assuming they’re okay. Meanwhile, they’re crying in the bathroom, waiting for someone — anyone — to notice the silence. We see a vague, sad post and scroll past it like it’s just another mood aesthetic. We miss calls and don’t call back. We don’t reach out. We assume someone else will.

But you know what? You are that someone. I am that someone. We all are. And if we keep spectating from the sidelines, there’ll be no team left to cheer for.

The irony is, we show up so quickly for the wins. “Congrats!” “Yaaas!” “You did that!” But where are we when someone’s trying to crawl toward those wins? Where are we when they’re starting over? When they feel invisible? Why do we only become active when it’s time to celebrate, and go ghost when it’s time to support?

Community isn’t built on convenience. It’s built on presence. On showing up. On caring just because — no prize, no camera, no hashtag.

Love is inconvenient. Friendship takes effort. Showing up costs time, energy, sometimes ego. But it’s also what makes this life feel worth it. What makes people feel seen. You don’t need to plan a grand gesture. You don’t need perfect words. Sometimes, the most radical act of love is simply being there.

We need to celebrate more than just weddings and baby showers. Let’s throw some love toward getting a new job, finally quitting a toxic one, applying for that visa, learning how to swim, picking up a new language, starting therapy, showing up for yourself when no one else does. That deserves a party too.

We say we want connection — but real connection isn’t always cute or comfortable. It’s messy, honest, inconvenient, and absolutely worth it.

So today, I’m reminding myself — and maybe you too — to be a villager, not just a visitor. To gather the wood before expecting the warmth. To check in even when I don’t feel like it. To celebrate others without asking, “Where’s mine?” To build, brick by brick, the kind of village I wish someone would build for me.

Because love doesn’t always benefit you. But it does bless you. And showing up for others might just be the very thing that saves us all.

"You can’t warm yourself by the village fire if you never helped light it. Love is inconvenient — show up anyway." 

Jez