The Risk of Connection
I spent the summer after college on an organic farm with a group of young adults learning the ins and outs of farming and community living. I slept in a tent and would wake up early, amble through the woods, and hop on my bike to a communal meditation and breakfast.
The Berkshire air was brisk. The sun, yet to break over the horizon, offered a soft hopeful glow. My young body didn’t need much to ready itself for pedal pumping.
In the evenings, we’d gather for “learning sessions.” Often we’d cover topics related to farming, like planning for successional plantings in the field, or strategically organizing the layout of a farm while working with existing infrastructure. But sometimes we’d explore more social-emotional topics.
A quote from a passage that was read to us during one of these sessions rings in my mind whenever I think about men’s work:
“Loneliness is the inability to share yourself with others.”
The potency of this struck me. It may be true that some people are so isolated, there may be no one to share with. But most of us are blessed with people who care about us.
And yet that doesn’t prevent loneliness.
It’s not that there’s no one out there willing to listen, it’s that we’re inhibited from sharing.
We get lonely because we’re afraid of opening up. We can share about how work has been a drag, or about how hard it's been to get the kids to bed (or to stay asleep). But that doesn’t meet our deeper need for connection.
Our deeper need for connection is met when our hearts open up and tenderness comes out.
A lot of people, especially men, believe they’re not allowed to be tender.
Our deeper need for connection is met when the ugly, uncomfortable, dark, shadowy, and taboo things come out.
A lot of people, including men, believe they're not allowed to have darkness.
Our deeper need for connection is when our hearts open up and grief and sadness come out.
A lot of people, especially men, believe they’re not allowed to be, or express, grief and sadness.
This list goes on.
It’s not that there’s no one out there willing to listen, it’s that we’re inhibited from sharing.
There are a lot of emotions, thoughts, experiences, and qualities that people are afraid of, uncomfortable with, ashamed of, and guilty about. Some of it is conscious and much of it lurks in the depths of the unconscious mind.
There is a risk in being who we are and sharing what we feel and think below the surface. The risk is rejection. Connection with someone who can’t accept us for who we are isn’t worth as much as a connection with someone who loves and accepts us unconditionally. But it’s still worth more than nothing.
The good news is that we don’t have to jump into sharing our deepest and darkest secrets, or open ourselves totally in one fell swoop. We can do it incrementally, starting with things that feel less risky. What we often discover is that those we share with also soften and open up with us.
One of the powerful things about working with a therapist, or a healer who works in the psycho-emotional realms, is that you get to be in a relationship that is based in unconditional love (assuming the person you’re working with has done the work to develop the capacity for non-judgemental unconditional love).
This makes it safe to open and share and be who you are (and discover who you are when there are no boundaries confining you).
As we build a stronger relationship with ourselves, and develop the skills to navigate expressing uncomfortable things, we can free ourselves from loneliness and isolation. We can stop pretending to be someone we’re not and show up as we are.
This is the work that we need more of in our culture.
I pride myself as someone who’s “done the work.” But I’ve had nights, scrolling through my address book and making excuses to not reach out to every single person who’s name I see.
“Oh, I called him last time.”
“It’s been too long since I spoke with him.”
“She’s been super busy and bogged down with her own life stressors, she doesn’t need me piling my shit on top of that”
I’ve also had successes. Moments where I’ve managed to share awkward and uncomfortable things despite the discomfort. There’s no end to this journey. It’s about noticing how deeply we’re connecting, and what we’re needing, and learning how to take the risks.
Living on a communal farm in the Berkshires was one of the best risks i've taken. Not only did i foster a deep connection with the earth, it taught me to take uncomfortable risks in the service of connection, and ultimately as an antidote to loneliness.
What risk will you take today?
