Food is such a universal gathering mechanism. So are bonfires. We had both last weekend, which attracted about 20 of our friends and a good handful of their kids. It reminded me why community–coming together around common needs and loves–is so important.

The occasion was nothing more than a welcoming of fall. Six friends brought their special-recipe chili, and others brought corn bread, really amazing desserts, and plenty of beer. We had a regular chili cook-off and even voted and gave out prizes. Then we all migrated to the bonfire out back, where we sat around telling stories while the kids ran in and out of the warm house and cold night wearing dress-up clothes. It was just what I needed on so many levels.

But, before I go any further with this, I want to recognize the danger of trying to celebrate community without romanticizing it and making a good number of people roll their eyes. I realize my own little idyllic domestic scene isn’t going to warm the cockles of your heart, so I won\’t bore you with any more details.

I do think, though, that whatever was at the heart of my little party Saturday night is at the heart of what warms us all. Not the chili and the fire as much as the desire to share something with others. It translates to so many types of moments. I’ve gotten glimpses of this at film festivals, and I certainly felt it during Spout’s 51 Birch Street event and outside on the sidewalk afterwards (here’s a podcast of that conversation, in case you missed it). It can even be apparent as you walk down a busy sidewalk with strangers during winter’s first big snow. You don’t necessarily interact but you’re somehow connected.

What I think we want, as humans, is to experience something–whether it’s the mood of a conversation around the fire or the mood of a powerful film–then look around at the people who have experienced it with us, sharing a moment with them to remind us we are not alone.