People who exist largely outside themselves can miss discovering what’s living on the inside.
Surface-level conversations and relationships offer us little in the way of either self-discovery or discovering the depths of others. Humans are meant to connect on an intrinsic level.
If we meet on more than a couple of occasions and don’t get beyond the weather or whatever traffic we ran into on our way to where we are, why continue to converse? What’s the point? Not that we have to relay every experience with every person—that would be overwhelming in a too-much-information way. But shouldn’t we share something fundamental that pulls us together? Shouldn’t our souls have a yearning to connect beyond the safe subjects?
Still lakes have a lot happening underneath
Where do you exist?
Do you create a world for yourself outside personal relationships? Do you bury your soul in top-level dwelling or stretch into the boundless depths? Many years of my journals reflect me interacting with … whomever … versus random life observations.
I never noticed this missing of current events from my diaries until reading Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s compilations. In her dairies, we read what she was feeling on the inside, through correspondence we learn what she shared with friends and what was going on in the world at large. She shared life with a bare heart.
As analytically introspective as I am, not many of my journals convey this. I have hidden my emotions when I should have been brave and blurted them out.
Would a reader know:
- My sadness when USA troops were killed in the Beirut Bombing? (1983 for those too young to know.)
- Or the surprise of Reagan being shot, surrounded by his entourage?
- How stunning it was when the Challenger spaceship exploded? That I let out an audible gasp at the shock of seeing it?
- That September 11, 2001 stands alone as a day I deeply journaled about since it was the singular most globally impactful event in my life. That morning continues to resound—each time I board a plane or listen to Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising. The attacks of 9/11 encouraged a pulling together of humanity. The world witnessed a joining together of people from various backgrounds, despite some unnecessary divisions.
If I had reflected on world events from teen years onward, rather than those only within my immediate surroundings, would a reader know me better? How do I write now? Now, when I’ve come to believe the way to heal what divides us is to reach into the discomfort of sharing what is deeply personal?
Surface dwelling
If you’re good at dialogue, that top tier bit of communication known as small talk, I’m envious. I have a serious deficit when it comes to this ability. My desire is to know you. Now. I want information. I want to understand motivations, what makes you happy, what about living this life excites you?
In America, at both business networking and casual parties, it’s agonizing to get asked for the three hundredth time: “Do you have kids?”
As if giving birth is the only thing of interest I could have achieved in life.
I have yet to meet a European who asks me this question.
People with kids often fail to understand how invasive that question can be. For those of us without children, our honest answers could take us too far beneath the surface as an initial conversation.
When I was young, responding honestly that I didn’t want to have kids, I’d invariably hear, you’ll change your mind. I marveled at how someone who didn’t know me could pronounce that. Why didn’t they ask why I was so sure I wouldn’t give birth? At sixty, there is a dead silence when I say, no, I do not have kids. It has become a point of humor with me and my husband. We’ll say, “We just got married seven years ago,” leaving the questioner to debate if they will pry with, “What about before that?” To date, no one has and the conversation is left hanging like a dangling participle.
There are topics less divisive than that one. Ask me, instead, where the most special place is that I have traveled and why it holds that spot in my heart.
Do you know people who live completely outside themselves?
Those people live on the exterior, never seeking deeper enlightenment or trying to connect to what impels them to act. My sister and I had a dear friend, L, from Red Lodge. She moved like a whirlwind, going ninety miles an hour through the universe, being all things for all people except herself. Once, my sister and I voiced the same thought: if L ever slows down, she’ll implode. She didn’t get a chance to do that and prove us wrong.
L bounced through town, five foot nothing, a compact, energetic woman with long blonde hair flouncing out keeping time with her steps, on a mission to somewhere—quickly. She was killed in a car wreck, never getting to enjoy right where she was in the moment.
Somewhere in my multitude of jobs, I worked with a fellow with whom I had many conversations. But unless he was doing the talking, he was only partially engaged and not intentionally hearing me. He rarely remembered what I told him and often repeated himself. This made me wonder what sort of relationship he had with his wife and children—how superficial their interactions must be.
Lessons Learned Growing Up
It would be difficult to recall a single time when my parents weren’t totally present when we talked—even the wordy rambling of adolescent girls vying for attention at the same time. Dad was great at being in the moment with you. He helped me understand the lesson of being there when conversing. Mom was attentive because, as shy as she was, she wanted to know, she wanted to learn about the topic.
College philosophy class gave me this phrase from Socrates, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” And while I’m not a boxing fan, Muhammad Ali was brilliant when he said, “A man who views the world the same at 50 as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.”
Staying in the solid shelter of my Cancerian crab’s shell doesn’t do me or the endlessly interesting folks I could be meeting any good—one of us has to open up and give honest conversation a try.
Interacting with people we perceive as shimmering across the facade of life.
When meeting those surface folks, do you help them dig inside and move the conversation deeper? Do you push them beyond to where their spirit is and meet them below the surface? For social events, I mentally prepare with the goal of finding a person who looks more uncomfortable than I feel. I ignore my discomfiture and find a topic where we can share something more heartfelt than the weather.
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I think I’ve found a kindred spirit in you. I like getting to know people one on one and associate surface conversations with energy sapping. I generally see them as a necessary evil I go through so that I can get to the good stuff. 🙂 I did want to mention that though I have children, I’m not a fan of the question,”Do you have kids?” either. It’s generally an invitation to have a conversation I don’t want to have. I love my kids, but like most humans, they lead complex and involved lives and trying to sum them up… Read more »
Great! I like the “necessary evil” approach, Debra.
And you just inspired me to practice oral storytelling … what if the next time I meet a random person who odds are a zillion to one I’ll never see again and they ask the kid question–I fabricate a brood of them!
I always find it so weird when people ask me right away if I have kids. However, where I live it is perfectly normal to not have kids. I know way more people without them than with them. But nobody really moves to Los Angeles with the main intention of having a family. So we probably get a huge percentage of “career people”. And when my friends have had kids, they always ending up moving away. As a side note, we’re the only culture that asks “how are you” without really wanting to know the answer. I feel like our… Read more »
Good observations, Erica. When I lived in Whittier, I was in my late twenties and married. I can’t recall anyone asking me if or when we were going to have kids. I might have blocked it out! Yes, we are and I try hard not to do that–do you, too? I try not to throw it around like a casual sentence. When we were in Wales, we stopped to admire an incredible garden. The owner, Maggie, was coming out to get her paper–in her pjs–she invited us in for a tour. Stunning. She introduced us to her husband, the dog–and… Read more »
I had few friends, and far between. Those I did have, some I ended up losing over the years.
Those quotes are fantastic, it is a wasted life if you are the same person 30 years later. Now, I look back and I do see how important my family and friends were over the years, I often wish I knew then what I know now.
The wisdom of hindsight, William. If only were had all this knowledge then! It would be grand. The great thing is that we can make friends at any stage in our lives.
I prefer deep friendships and always have done. As a teenager I had one or two friends and was rarely in a group setting. I was an introvert and shy so struggled within groups. I can manage surface level banter but not for too long.
You mention the awful tragedy of September 11th 2001. I travelled to America during that period and my holiday was extended by two days due to the airports being closed. I do not think it sunk in until we returned to the UK.
Those surface conversations and friendships are even harder on an introvert, Phoenicia. My sister Jackie is the most shy of us four kids and I know parties and things like that are tough for her. Funniest thing, though, she was a cheerleader in high school–something I couldn’t imagine doing.
I am glad that you got home safely after the tragedies, it must have been hard to board a plane. I flew one month later and the flights to Montana–usually full–were eerily empty.
Rosemary — I agree that deep friendships are essential to life. That said, you can only have a few of those kinds of friendships because it takes time and energy to engage at that level. But it is worth it because I truly love those precious people in my life.
You’re right, Jennette, it does take time and energy to keep those deep friendships alive. I’ve figured out that having diverse friends helps with that–this friend may love reading, that friend travel, another movies. Having deep conversations about various topics (aside from what’s in our hearts) can keep things interesting.
Beautifully said RoseMary, and I too love the photo of you and Jackie. I tend to avoid group gatherings and while I’m happy to listen, rarely “expose” myself in conversations, particularly to people I don’t know well. I’m no expert but I think that’s fairly common for us Introverts.
As writers, I think we like to listen–you never know when what we hear will be exactly what we need for our next article or story.
First of all, love the picture of you and your sister, I presume? I love getting deep and personal with the right people, but it’s hard to find them. My big pet peeve is that I don’t feel comfortable with, (and therefore choose not to share my deepness with) someone who can’t listen. More and more, I find that so few people can listen without interrupting or imposing their perspectives. I yearn to hear “Ah, I see” or “I understand” but seldom get it. Time for new friends, maybe. Or a therapist!
Yes, Karen, that’s Jackie and I on our first European adventure in the Cinque Terre, Italy. Listening is such an underrated skill. Don’t you think it should be taught from grade school through college? It’s an art and truly a key part of successful communication.
Therapist friend. tee hee.
It’s hard to say what it is that let’s you open up and really have an in-depth conversation with someone. In most cases I don’t. I feel like there are limits with most people I talk to, confining the conversation to common interests or avoiding anything that you might disagree on. But every once in a while you meet someone who you are comfortable talking about almost anything with. Don’t really know how that happens.
I’m going with it’s magic, Ken. That sometimes your innate selves intuitively know you’re a match and the conversation simply spills forth.
Lots to think about in this post. It can be tough to strike the balance between wanting to know someone and yet not be inquisitors. I like meeting people at networking events and can manage the surface conversation most times, but do find them exhausting. I am not always comfortable sharing personal details until I know someone better. There are so many layers to people that we don’t always see. Some of the surface people you’ve described may truly not do any introspection, but I also wonder if others have another side to them that they only reveal with a… Read more »
You and I approach those events the same way, Donna. Your last sentence makes me think of the 1970s Billy Joel song, The Stranger–was there ever a mantra from that era that summed up what’s inside us that we don’t let out?
Wonderful blog RoseMary – so much to chew on here! So tell me, where is the most special place you have traveled and does it hold a place in your heart?! I think mine are Pembrokeshire and Wyoming (in case you didn’t know…) M
Thanks, Monika. Given our emails about the area, we agree on Pembrokeshire being special. There is a hike on the coastal path south of Goodwick. It was the first hike, the first trip and as we set along the path the golden colors of autumn were everywhere, set against the see and the rocks. I remember stopping and thinking to myself: I have come home.
Wyoming has magical places!
Hi Rose. As Jackie says, this is definitely a thinking blog post. You’ve probably figured out that I love people, and that interactions with others fuels my spirit. I love hearing others speak about themselves and share their stories. But what really bothers me is when … after listening to them speak about themselves for 15 or 30 minutes, they don’t bother to ask about me, my life, interests, or work. I had a friend like that. (Notice the past tense.) We would talk. Mostly, she would talk about her life, family, etc. And then be ready to hang up… Read more »
Well said, Doreen. I’ve known people who can talk for that length of time only about themselves–not even about a topic of interest. I never understand how they don’t see my eyes glossing over. Yes, I’ve had to purge folks as well.
This is definitely a thinking blog. Good pointers to take from it….like finding the person less comfortable than you are at a gathering because I am that wallflower and find it really difficult to make conversation. I’ve learned to ask people about themselves as people love to talk about themselves. Decide from there if they are people you want to connect further with.
You’re so very friendly, Jackie, that I’ll bet if another wallflower has you speaking with them, they feel immediately at east.