About five or six months ago, I made it my mission to determine what humanism means to me. I read literature (well, a little bit anyway), studied, and talked to others, but nothing quite felt right. I was trying to define something that seemed unidentifiable.
I know, that’s just what you want to hear from the MHA’s Communication Officer, right?
My belief that humanism is undefinable changed one Friday night as I stood in the middle of Smith Park with a roll in one hand and a homeless man’s hand in the other. Suddenly, the entire concept of humanism came down to a single word for me.