On Deep Connection with Others
There is a beautiful African way of being, “Umbuntu - I am because you are. You are because I am” that I learned about in reading one of my favorite devotional books by Mark Nepo called, “The Book of Awakening”.
In the passage about this deep quote, Mark explained how this phrase defines the interconnectedness of us all. In the moments when he suffered cancer, looking across the room at parents waiting for their loved one’s to complete treatments, he knew how deeply they shared a story of fear and pain.
The devotion got me thinking of how poignant the practice of connection can be, were we to take time to focus more on what we have in common, the deep emotions that we each experience that can hold us in our humanity.
I’ve been pondering a lot lately of how the world would change if we were more open to seeing the similarities in others, the deep longing for love, truth, respect, being seen and heard authentically. Instead of feeling isolated and alone in our emotions, what would transform in us were we to unite through them?
We see this energetic shift happen most in times of great tragedy - 911, Hurricane Katrina and now COVID. But why does it take something of this magnitude for us to be willing to be with another in pain or struggle and have compassion?
My theory is that many fear their inability to be in contact with the struggle without taking the same into their own experience. If you are grieving, you can trigger my grief. If you are enraged, you may trigger my own anger. And we don’t know how to manage our emotions. Which leads to one of the oldest and most destructive beliefs in our culture today - that emotions are a sign of weakness.
While going through divorce, I noticed how often those who had gone through it themselves would brush over the pain and seemed eager for me to just be on the other side already, when what I wanted most was someone to sit with me through the darkness. No words or actions required.
When my youngest daughter left for college in New York, the beginning of my empty nesting and our family home being dismantled, the sorrow we both contained was almost too much to bear. As I watched clouds and sky roll by, flying to New York, the silence between us was deafening. Sometimes what we share is just too painful to put in words, but we know deeply that the feelings and emotions are united.
Recently a dear friend lost her father to a battle with Alzheimer’s and, once again, I felt the deep pain, having lost my own mother to cancer last July, during the months of limited visits due to COVID. Feeling isolated from a parent in their final years of memory making adds its own weight to the soul.
On a lighter note, a client was sharing recently about a wonderful opportunity she was given for work. “I hesitate to talk about it,” she said, “because it just feels like I’m bragging.” “Brag away!” I declared. “Please! Shout about it! How wonderful for you! Let’s celebrate!” She smiled, as if surprised by my genuine delight.
How odd that even joy would be something we hesitate to share.
Our emotions - our deep, rich, feeling world - are the landscape of truth. They share the reality of where we are on our spiritual path - in awakening and closing, trusting or fearing, connecting or isolating. Our work is to not avoid them but rather to allow them to be the compass through our experience and a barometer for our compassion.
We all are the same more than we are different.
We all suffer. We all rejoice.
We all create stories to restify our emotional stories.
Today I want to suggest we stop the story and simply connect.
Do one thing today to connect with someone you know is experiencing similar pain or joy.
Let them know you see them and feel them.
You don’t require fixing them.
You don’t require taking on their burdens.
Just be present.
And see how it changes you.