Open to Connection

When I travel solo, I am seldom alone. I just haven’t met who I will be with yet.

Maybe everyday life is this way too. I pay my rent and fall into a 45 min. conversation about bulldogs. I go to a Thai restaurant down the street, and Becky greets me with a smile. At the table beside me a young man in his twenties is in the hot seat. His family does not like his girlfriend or who he becomes in her presence. On my walk, home I talk to a neighbor about the new street resurfacing and repainting. It turns into a conversation of when he moved here 30 years ago, his neighbors then, and our neighbors now. One of our neighbors just passed in her 90’s. At 10:25pm the loop is complete, I’m home.

I wonder if when you are married, you are just predetermining with whom 70% of your conversations will be. If you are choosing in advance, one person who will show up in most scenes. I’m just noticing for being alone, I wasn’t alone much tonight. I enjoyed the connections and their varied sources.

Psychology researcher Barbara Fredrickson remind us in the book “Love 2.0 “there are a lot of ways to love and connection for those in a relationship and those out of it. Sharon Salzberg writes in “True Love” that love is not a feeling but an ability, a response that we can encourage in ourselves, others, and life.

Irritated? What next: Blame or Connect?

You cannot be blaming someone else and be in connection at the same time. If you are familiar with Brene Brown’s work this is not new to you. (May I recommend her short on Blame? https://youtu.be/RZWf2_2L2v8?si=c1rzkjcDIZqgk6H6)

And here is how it was played out for me this week. My doctor cancels and reschedules an appointment. Some days I can roll with this, but today I am irritated. My first instinct is to delve into the sticky. What does canceling an appointment say about the other person? In this mood, it is nothing flattering. I also can hear a voice that acknowledges these observations aren’t helping me feel better. But there is something tantelizing about pulling and tugging the story into shape like I’m a machine working salt water taffy.

A better question is, “Why am I irritated?”

I feel like I’ve done something wrong, and this “wrong” changes my value. I could have known. I shouldn’t have scheduled on a Friday. I shouldn’t have done it so far in advance. To discharge the discomfort of all my stories, so much easier to blame.

So… take my value and worth out of the equation. Walking it out, on my lunch break, the owner/ waitress initiates a hug because I haven’t been in for a while. Connection. Back on the sidewalk, these words come to me. “There is no other.”

Before I blame the other for being irritating, realize a bigger truth. In the experience of connection there is no other. If I am in blame, I am no longer in connection. That is too high a price to pay. The fact that an appointment has been canceled is, but the story I’m telling about it can set sail. (Buddhism calls the second arrow the ways we increase our suffering after the initial disappointment occurs.)

Acutely aware of the feeling of blame and the stories that satisfy and validate the claim, AND the feeling of connection with the waitress. I realize both feelings are in me, and I can choose connection. In a literal way, “there is no other”, I shape my experience. And also true, when you are in connection, you are not aware of otherness. Imagine you are in awe, standing beside an immense ocean or mountain. You are over whlemed by feeling and in that moment the mountain is not separate. It is and you are, and you are being together without experiencing the boundaries that usually separate us. It can be the same experience with people.

I am inside rock. The way is dark.

Within the caves at St. Beatus beside Lake Thun, Switzerland.

You can walk 1 kilometer into the mountain. Seems like not far around a track or in a neighborhood, but time and space are different here in the dark, and the Way is Dark. The tunnels are narrow. and winding the way water flows… so you never see more than 20 feet in front of you before the path bends out of sight. The path is not usually wider than the width of passing shoulder to shoulder with someone. There is room above your head, and room around your knees. I did not feel claustrophobic; though, I am familiar with the way it closes in around you.

There is a feeling of curiosity, of intimacy. I am seeing Inside a rock. I am seeing where crystals are born. I feel excitement. These are the inner workings usually invisible to us. It sounds like rushing water. Which over time has carved out 21 grottos in this 1km alone.

Let’s talk about time. A stalagmite is pointed out to be 40,000 years old. Walk on…. the ceiling above my head is 100,000,000 years old.

There is not enough space on the page to let that sink in. What occurs is, I am but a humming bird. My life as brief compared to these rocks. I am in awe. The water comes rushing again, and my heart is full of love.

I am ready to see the light again. To my surprise, I could have read about this before, I have to walk the 1km back the way I came. Now I have the unsettling feeling of walking against the arrows, and a tiny fear of getting lost down here. A gaggle of 50 teens pass me, while I waited my turn. Hades.

Now I am ready for Robert Macfarlane’s book “Underland” where he celebrates with prose how little we know about the world beneath the topsoil.

50 is

I just turned 50.

50 is collecting art. 50 is taking accountability for your health.  What I mean is the friendships you fall into when you’re young by the time you’re 50 have become a commitment, a commitment to people you love. 

50 is a discovery of who I am now, which is changing more than ever.  50 is a continued practice of self expression.  At 50 you can see patterns that at 20 seems like a one-off. :- ) 50 you know who you are, and you know who your friends are.  At 50 I am blessed to have both my parents.  At 50 I’m not ready for anything different than that.  At 50 I can dress for comfort and surround myself with and wear the colors I love. At 50 I have more money than when I was 20.

At 50 “the world is your oyster” feels different. I want different things from the world. I can see, I can acknowledge all the angels and support that have helped me in life. I am grateful. I still have things I want to do. I realize I am not really doing them alone. I can look back on the places I’ve been and people I’ve known with pride. I still love people.  I still love dance.  Life at 50 is like clarified better. It’s what it always was, and yet the best parts remain, and there’s more transparency, more clarity.  There’s still tea. There’s still work.

Somehow, there are more things surrounding me to lift me up. It feels more solid at 50. Feels like you’re less scrappy.  Some things have been established.   Things have taken root. I am more familiar with what I love.  And I can bring more of it into my life.  I love the ocean. I love best friends. I love good words.  I love slow mornings. I love the birds. I love to laugh. I love to travel.  I love flowers. I love Stewart and Rosie.  I love their bulldogs. I love that time can feel spacious.  I love that you seem to be given the resources and tools to make the life that works for you.