I have been lucky enough to find my tribe in this life.

You know. My tribe. My people. The people who love and accept me for who I am, who celebrate me, who make me want to be the best version of myself for always and always.

They are friends. They are family. Some of them are related by blood, but others not. And yet, they are still my family.

In the last post, I talked about 9 defining factors of people who live in Blue Zones, or rather, those places where people live the longest on this planet. Two of those factors were first, belonging to a faith, and second, finding the right tribe. Well, belonging to a tribe is something I’m definitely blessed with. But I wasn’t sure how to feel about belonging to a faith, because if faith meant religion (which in every case in the Blue Zones, it did), then I was screwed.

Technically, I’m Catholic. I was baptized, had my first communion, and my confirmation in the Catholic church. But my family and I were Christmas-Easter Catholics (you know, the kind who only go to church on Christmas and Easter). I’m sure my mother wished it were different, especially since she grew up in an Italian household where my grandmother (Nana Rita) used to say the rosary twice a day, and went to church twice a week.

But since my father was a non-practicing protestant (life was – and still is – his religion), all the Lobley family could muster were two annual trips to church. Most Christmases, dad would fall asleep and snore himself awake (we got a lot of angry stares for those times), and my brother and sister and I would squirm around in our seats, bored as heck, waiting for the priest to direct us to the part where we could sing Christmas carols (obviously our favorite part). My mother would sit next to us, jaw tight, smiling through her irritation and pinching us in the butts if we got too out of hand (which we almost never did – you only need to get pinched once to learn that lesson)!

Though we didn’t much like church, we certainly loved the tradition of it, especially at Christmas. It became fun to talk about dad snoring and disturbing the peace of other churchgoers (yeah, it was that loud). And we looked forward to driving home along Lakeshore drive after church, moving slowly so we could see all the Christmas lights as we passed, noting the differences in decor as the years went by. We’d go home to a traditional Catholic fish dinner, read The Night Before Christmas, put cookies out for Santa and carrots for his reindeer (duh), and try to go sleep with visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads.

These days, I can’t seem to identify with any particular religion, though I can identify with various aspects of many of them. I certainly appreciate the ways in which religion brings people together, and the ways in which having faith in some kind of religion helps people to feel a sense of belonging, a sense of togetherness.

But I don’t much like the ways in which some people in the world use religion as a way to segregate people, denying the fact that we are all human beings at the end of it all. Or how certain groups find it acceptable to use violence in the name of their God.

Though I don’t necessarily abide by the rules or beliefs of any particular religion, I do believe in some higher power, something much bigger than myself. Whether it’s God or some other being remains to be seen. And despite my beliefs, I respect and value the views of anyone else’s religion.

But as I was reading about the Blue Zones and studying longevity, noting that I had most of the qualities Buetner (the researcher who discovered Blue Zones) outlined, I got to thinking about my tribe as it relates to religion. And then I realized something:

Though I don’t belong to any particular sect, I do have a religion. It’s just in a different form. I have a group of girls who I trail run with during the week. I have a group of guys and girls who I work out with on Monday nights at my friend Tony’s house. I have a group of guys and girls who I trail run, practice yoga, and brunch with on the weekends. I have life long friendships and family who brighten my life. These people are my tribe. Our activities are our religion. They bring us together in the name of something that makes us happy, that makes us feel a sense of belonging, of togetherness, and I dare say a connection to something bigger than ourselves (nature has a way of making you feel that way).

Isn’t that what religion does? Bring people together? Give people faith?  Create a sense of community?

And so there it is: for me, belonging to a faith and finding the right tribe are one and the same. They are not separate. My friends are my faith. My family is my faith. My trail runs out in nature, my flows in my yoga classes, the laughter that reverberates around the room as I dine with my friends and family. That is my faith. That is my religion. That is my tribe.

I don’t know what religion you belong to, or what tribe you surround yourself with, but I know this: Belonging to a faith can add anywhere from 4-14 years to your life. What’s more is that you have a 150% better chance of having the same qualities (happiness/loneliness, overweight/fit, etc.) as your 3 closest friends.

So today, I encourage you to find your tribe if you haven’t already. Believe in something greater than yourself. Find people who believe in those things too. Get together often. And never lose faith in the power of people and connection. With the right tribe, people can lift you up when you feel down, carry you when you can’t walk anymore, and celebrate you when you’ve accomplished what you set out to do.

And whether it’s in a church,, a synagogue, a ski mountain, or a dirt trail in the forest, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that sense of belonging, of togetherness, of faith.

Find your tribe, and without a doubt, you will elevate the quality – and length – of your life.

Lauren
xxx