See-Saw: Seeking Quiet, Seeking Connection

Posted on by Victoria

There’s a word I use a lot and I’m bothered by it at times.  Connection, connection, connection.  I’d like to find suitable synonyms, but I haven’t devoted the time or effort to exploring.

As much as I appreciate the quieter moments in my life, this introverted girl needs to know she’s seen and heard, just a bit – here and there – for my psyche and self to feel fulfilled and whole. It’s like riding an emotional see-saw.  Up and down.  Up and down.   

Exploring my quest for quiet, I tried a silent retreat once and nearly collapsed from exhaustion. 😉 Not from interaction…as there was none…but the forced one-on-one time with my wayward thoughts. Silence…no expression…meant everything I thought and felt became pressurized from the inside-out.  Combustible, almost.

And you might be thinking, ‘Hey there, don’t you profess a love of morning meditation?” Yes, I do.  Indeed I do.  But it’s a brief kickstart to my day, clearing the clutter so I can begin anew.  Silence for an extended period?  I’m in awe of those who can swing it.  If that’s you, I’d love to know more.  Tell me…share in the comments. 

I know one of my hiccups on the road to enlightenment is my inability to tune out.  Not just my internal chatter.  My dad told me years ago that I was wired for…yes…you guessed it…”connection”.  He likened my skill set of detecting micro-nuances of emotional vibrations to that of a spider, parked in her web; any movement on the silky strands triggers a response. I didn’t like the imagery then – or now – because spiders are tricksters.  Predators.  But the point he was trying to make was that they’re also savvy.  My dad dispensed terrific advice and you might enjoy this post: “Loving Lessons from My Papa”. His specialty was pool-side wisdom, whilst in a floaty: 

When dad offered support about dealing with challenging family members, he’d urge me to follow my anticipatory feelings, rather than ignore my micro-intuition.  “You have your own early warning system”, he’d say.  “Listen to it.”  As much as I loved my dad, I sometimes thought his advice was a placating work-around to avoid confronting the offender, the emotional interloper (often my mom, Sue).  Maybe he could’ve headed her off at the pass…rather than urge me to watch for triggers and flee?  But he fought his own battles and I see that he was doing what he could to guide me.

Over time, my intuitiveness grew, as a self-protect mechanism.  It’s a skill, but not without burdens.  In chance encounters with people I can often sense malaise, but it can be an inappropriate overstep to offer comfort to a stranger when all you’ve got to go on is a feeling that they’re in need. 

In my professional capacity, the rules of engagement are different.  I use those little bits of knowing, those inklings of intel as data points, helping me sort out situations when I’m clearly in helper-mode.  But in my “civilian life”, I struggle to ignore the signs and signals and invariably, I lean in.   

I had that experience this week. I was in errand-running mode in a parking lot when I spied a woman struggling to unload the contents of her trunk. She was sweaty and moved in an awkward way as she lifted boxes from her car, trying to position them on a wonky cart. 

I was late.  My intention was to do my thing and zip, zip away.  But I couldn’t.  I did the same thing you would’ve done, and I walked toward the woman and offered to help.  Turned out she had many more boxes and bags in her car – not just the load in the trunk – and while she was grateful, I ended up doing a lot more than I expected.  My guess is that she thought I was an employee at the donation center, and I’d come out to help?  I didn’t bother to explain.

We worked without chatting.  I wheeled the first cart load toward the front door and looked for additional helpers.  None were there – the entry way was empty – so I unloaded the boxes and scooted back to the lady.  We loaded up again – this time bags from the backseat and I noticed most of the items were a mix of clothing and craft supplies.  Yarn, paints, canvases.  As if a Michael’s craft store had been cleared out of its inventory.

By the time we wheeled the last load in, other helpers were in place and my new acquaintance realized I wasn’t an employee.  I was just another lady in the parking lot.  We stood for a few minutes by our cars as she apologized for her assumption and I told her it didn’t matter.  I was happy to help, especially because I know how underfunded and short-staffed the resale shop is as a donation hub benefiting a women’s shelter.  She nodded and said the items she dropped off were her sister’s, who’d passed away several years prior.  “I thought about throwing it all away, but I realized it could be useful, especially for moms with small children. Today felt like the day to clear it all out.”

I understood and remembered how difficult it was to sort though the mountain of items that were in my mom and sister’s house years ago.  A hoard of clothing and art supplies – especially Lisa’s yarns for making wreaths and latch-hook rugs and Sue’s painting paraphernalia.  I nodded, mentioning that I remembered how good it felt to repurpose and share.  

The sum total of our interaction –  including the hauling of stuff – was maybe twenty minutes but the opportunity to be human and of service was uplifting.  We were strangers who won’t meet again but darn it all (and yes, that’s a knitting pun, I think) those moments of connection provided a reminder to trust my instincts and lean in:

Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger?  Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle.  Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence.  Trust your instincts.  Do the unexpected.  Find the others.

-Timothy Leary

Yes, yes.  “Find the others.”  Goodness is usually waiting for me on the other side.  And the silent retreat idea?  I’m still curious but I think I’ll be a drop out.   Before I even begin.

-Vicki 😊

P.S. I love extolling the virtues of friends.  Check out my Victoria Ponders post about dear Wynne Leon and heart songs. You’ll like it.  I promise.

46 thoughts on “See-Saw: Seeking Quiet, Seeking Connection”

  1. Pingback: Friends are Like Songs in Your Heart – Victoria Ponders

  2. I can happily hunker down in my own home for days on end without interacting with anyone. If you transplanted me to an unfamiliar environment and left me alone for a few hours—say in a motel room, for example—I’d probably go bonkers in a NY minute. I’d be reaching for the TV remote, a book, my iPad, phone, or whatever. Hmm. What does that tell me about myself? 😳 Wait! Don’t answer that! Kudos to you for taking the time to serve another. Doing so does more for the helper than it does for the helpee, don’t you think?

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

    1. I love your point, Jules. Yes! The comfort of a familiar environment…our home turf (literally) makes a difference. I agree! I think I’m a ‘nester’ by nature. I like my things around me, so I feel every bit of your comment. As for the helpers benefiting more? So much so. My encounter was several days ago but the woman’s heavy heart is still riding along with me. Happy to have helped. xo to you! 🥰

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  3. You advanced toward the other but retreated from what was inside. Too much of the inside can do that to almost anyone. I wonder what was there, Vicki? I’d best leave it at that and take care of my own stuff, except for this. Buy a shirt that says, “NOT AN EMPLOYEE!”

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

    1. I LOVE your questions and how you spotted that nuance. Yes, yes. There’s no end to the ‘inner work’ to mull over. As for the shirt — great idea! Maybe a hat and dark glasses? Still, I suspect none of that would deter me. 😎

      Like

      Reply

  4. I’ve only just recently confirmed I can make it 15 minutes (versus my longstanding 10) in my morning meditations. The idea of trying a fully hour–forget about uninterrupted stretches of hours!–makes me feel impossibly itchy. Perhaps someday? (I have my doubts!)

    Reading about this parking lot encounter warmed my heart. So, too, the words “Find the others,” which showed up in an AI book I read a couple years back … but without realizing, until now, it was a reference to something else!

    Happy Sunday. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  5. One of the small things I missed during the stay at home portion of the pandemic was micro-conversations with strangers, customers and cashiers, in the stores. I enjoy those small sparks of connection, which while not as significant as relationships with friends and family, are nonetheless conversations that make me feel alive, bring a sense of joy.

    Liked by 8 people

    Reply

    1. I think you nailed it, Ally. I don’t need a lot of interaction but your thought about ‘micro-conversations’ perfectly describes how wonderful the unexpected moments are. You’re on a roll…I also love the ‘spark of connection’ phrase, too. Yes, yes. Thank you! 🥰

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

    2. I agree with you. I missed the interactions with the people who made up the fabric of my life. Then we moved to a new state, and I had to start all over. It’s slow, but I am making those connections again.

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

      1. I can imagine that moving would upset the apple cart, so to speak. I like living where I do if only because I kind of know some of the people who shop where I do. Small connections, ‘ya know.

        Like

  6. What a lovely story, Vicki. I’m sure you made that lady’s day by so graciously helping her.

    I think I’d react the same way as you to a silent retreat. I’m horrible at meditation—even for just a few minutes. My brain just seems to be in a constant state of overdrive. Then I get frustrated which kind of defeats the purpose.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  8. I can relate to both of those pulls (quiet and connection.) you put it into words what to me have only been emotions. I have that empathetic bent that you also described. It is both a gift and a curse. I am thankful for it, and as I’ve gotten older, knowing it’s hard wired, it just is, I have given myself permission to “shut it off”. As far as knowing how to introduce more quiet time (if you are wanting to) then small is good, I think a lot of people are not comfortable with being alone with themselves..the noise of life is their way of not dealing with it. I know two different people locally, who are always wearing those headphone/ radios. it always makes me a little sad, because I suspect that’s what’s going on. Can’t handle the quiet. I love the quiet. Thank you as always for giving voice to what I know many of us feel, just haven’t taken the time to articulate it for ourselves. DM

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. You said something that will stick with me, Doug — a truth, I think: “…the noise of life is their way of not dealing with it”. Yes. An easy way to avoid inner-work. I see that. Thank you so much for your lovely comment. I worry that traipsing through my brain is hard to follow for readers. Appreciate you for coming along for the ride 😉 — and for sharing that you have similar needs/preferences. Hope you have a terrific day today! I’m sending smiles to you!

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  9. I love the continuum of responses to your intuition that you describe – different responses based on role. That in and of itself is such wisdom. And your inclination to help and generous assumption, ” I did the same thing you would’ve done, and I walked toward the woman and offered to help.” It all speaks to your huge heart that is wired to sense and connect. Love it!

    As to silent retreats, I’m laughing that you nearly died from exhaustion. Reminds me of a time that Jill and I considered going to a health spa retreat for a week. It sounded so great but somehow we knew we’d collapse under our own weight and went climbing in Mexico instead. 🙂

    Love this generous introduction to joy! ❤ ❤ ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Umm….helloooo? I don’t believe I’ve heard that “Jill and Wynne” story. “On our way to a health spa we went mountain climbing instead”??? Hilarious and I don’t know any of the details. xo, Wynne! 🥰

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  10. That was a lovely gesture you did for the woman in the parking lot. It’s often hard to retreat into their solo quiet time but it is essential to help us all recharge. But we are all ultimately human and hardwired to seek that connection. I bet that short moment of connection will not be forgotten by the woman you helped.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thanks for that observation, Ab. I bet you’re right. I suspect donating all of those items was the tip of an emotional iceberg for her…many other hurdles to clear about dealing with the loss of her sister. And I think you’re right — that ‘hardwired for connection’ thought. See – you’re demonstrating it here by offering a kind comment to my post. Thank you, friend! 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  11. This past week while on a morning walk, I spotted an older neighbor looking into the tops of her trees, hands in hair, visibly distraught. There was a police SUV parked outside. I crossed the street and asked if she was okay. She told me her husband had passed in the night. I didn’t know her but gave her a big hug, listened to her, told her my name and where I live if I could help. 🥲

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Oh my goodness. When my dad passed away I couldn’t stop looking to the trees. I still don’t fully understand why but the image you described of your dear, distraught neighbor….it reminded me of those grief moments when the trees offered comfort (if that makes any sense). Thank you for sharing what you did to comfort her. You didn’t know her, but I don’t think it matters in those moments. You were there with kindness. xo to you, Crystal. 💕

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  12. What a lovely story. “Find the others” is really speaking to me right now. Thanks for sharing your wisdon, Vicky. Like you, I find it rejuvinating to spend time in prayer/meditation (along with some great yoga stretches) to begin each day. Doing this has been a game-changer for my mindset.

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

    1. Hi, Rhonda! Thank you for the reminder about stretching as part of the morning quiet time. I get so focused on getting down to business and drinking a glass of water, getting settled, that I forget to stretch. Great point! I’m so glad it’s working for you. It’s hard to explain what a difference it makes…but it does. Xo! ❤️

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  14. Appreciate this quote – “Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others.”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  15. My eyes are misty reading your words Vicki. These serendipitous meetings are tiny defining moments in our lives that benefit both people. Using a yarn analogy, it is like the needle slipping onward to move in a different direction, yet needing the stitch that came before. An intertwining, that eventually reveals the greater creation.
    Love this post and also your post about Wynne. 💕

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  17. Pingback: Well Said Saturdays – August 19 – The Heart of the Matter
  19. Pingback: August’s Greatest Hits – The Heart of the Matter

Leave a reply to Crystal Byers Cancel reply