A week or two ago I was in a small group conversation on Zoom. One of the group members shared that he was recently at a bonfire gathering with friends. It was January and 20 degrees but this was what it took to connect with his community so there they were. Someone who bordered on friend and acquaintance approached him. This person is someone who he’s had great conversations and lots of fun with in the past. Still, when they approached and said “Hey! How are you?” the member of my group telling the story described that he felt frozen. His thoughts quickly cataloged all that was really going on for him – which in a pandemic was A LOT. He wasn’t ever a person who loved the “good! How are you?” version of responding to the question, but sometimes it was a mechanism to move into deeper conversation. It was more dishonest than ever now… and he didn’t want to say it. But what could he really say? How much of what he had to share was about the come out? If he started sharing could he stop?
The young man telling me this story stopped then and remarked that he thought he was experiencing social anxiety for the first time. Our group went on to discuss the global mental health crisis likely resulting from the pandemic, but I had been shaken.
As I had listened to the story my insides trembled. The feelings were so familiar. And when he got to the end and revealed this was a new feeling for him, I internally gasped for air and grasped for balance. I’m certain that I’ve felt that way in every casual social interaction I’ve ever experienced my entire life.
I very proudly declare I don’t like small talk – and I don’t – but I also don’t like taking the risk of exposing my inner world by sharing it with others. For me, it’s all about the other person. Do they want to know that? What will they do with it? What will they think of me?
On some level I don’t even do it with people who I know can handle it. But this isn’t really about others. It’s about me. Can I trust myself to hold my own heart when sharing my grief and pain. Can I trust myself to celebrate my own pride without shifting into superiority when sharing my joys.
And like everything else… when I analyze this I see it as all or nothing. I’m not doing it at all and I must do it more. The truth is I do it some. It’s hard for me sometimes and not in others. It really does depend on the other person. How likely are they to understand? Not likely – I will avoid. Are they inclined to try and fix me or give advice? Very likely – will avoid. And again this is about me.
Can I trust myself enough to see the opportunity in misunderstanding? To develop a deeper and new understanding of what I’m trying to express. To try on a different approach as I aim to connect. Can I trust myself to know I don’t need to be fixed? And to recognize that inside advice is often a nugget of wisdom but it’s only revealed with receptivity.
For years I have been perfectly willing to reveal, share, and express on the page. Without concern for the reaction of the audience. I either don’t care if you’ll understand, have so much faith in my writing that I believe you will, or it doesn’t matter because I don’t have to know either way. It’s time to take this show on the road. Live and in person (or at least on the phone or via zoom). Heart open, inner power aflame, courageously here for the exchange of gifts… just a little bit more than before. It’s not a brand new practice. It’s an expanding one.