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Observations on Human Connection & Contribution

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#101: Two structures of human life, and how they obstruct relationality (India Diaries)

My recent India visit was my longest since I left home 20 years ago. While I had a long list of tasks, there was space to spend agenda-less time with whoever and whatever showed up in my days. As if plucked from responsibilities and daily priorities, I was suspended from life, hovering above everyone else while they went about their routines, commutes and deadlines.

I saw the universal rhythms, transitions and evolutions embedded in life. Meal times, menus, get-togethers and health exams; caregiving and care taking; oscillations of attachment and detachment; happy and sad life transitions; the evolution of people and their relationships; hope and grief. I observed both the mundane and the moving. But I wasn’t a distant observer, I engaged with my full emotional repertoire without even trying. Because I was surrounded by people I had lifelong histories and memories with―a high concentration of those I loved―I had moments of deep emotional resonance pretty much daily if not several times a day. There was a lot of love and some frustration. I soaked it all in.

But here’s my main point: all of the above played inside two main structures, the practical and the emotional. 

  • The practical structures: These are the things we do everyday, whether paid or unpaid, whether at home or outside. These are the spaces we show up in and contribute to in tangible ways. These are often the more visible parts of our days. We can think of the practical as the “hardware” or the “what” of our lives. The practical gives scaffolding, purpose and busyness to our days.
  • The emotional structures: These are the things we feel, which are of course driven by our circumstances but more than that by the people that populate our lives, including ourselves. They are our family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances, those we run into periodically (like the pharmacist), and even complete strangers (like co-commuters on the metro). Our emotional structures are a source of our most beautiful and terrible moments, offering both love and pain, hope and despair. They’re like oxygen―invisible and absolutely critical. This is the intangible “software” that runs the practical hardware of our lives. Think of the emotional as the “how” to the practical “what”.

Now let me thread one final thought to bring this home:

Our lives are fundamentally relational (this is backed by social scientists, leaders and humans of all stripes). That is, we become who we are and do everything we do with and through other people. We’re happier when we tap into relationality regardless of context. So what gets in the way?

  • Our main relational obstacle when we feel secure is busyness. When all of life’s practical needs are going well and we are generally feeling good about things, what gets in the way of relationships are the practical things (time, distance, schedules). We feel comfortable showing more of ourselves, if we only had the time.
  • Our main relational obstacle when we feel insecure is vulnerability. When life’s practical scaffolding starts crumbling, when things aren’t going so well and when we are more likely to be in the emotional dumps, we don’t fixate on the practical as much. We seek people out or they seek us. Then what gets in the way is the ability to show more of ourselves, to be vulnerable.

Regardless of the obstacle, tapping into impermanence has the power to bring us back to relationality. This may be counterintuitive but remembering that we, and everything we see and experience is fleeting can re-tune us back into our shared humanity. For proof: see the point on benevolence (chapter 2) in the 2023 World Happiness Report.

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Sidenote: I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’ve been playing with these ideas for a couple of years and they are core to my work. Ping me directly to let me know if they resonate or if I’m missing anything.

“Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way to begin
the conversation.”
― “Start Close In” by David Whyte, Poet

#99: Becoming a person through other people (India Diaries)

I was back home in India for a few months. As is to be expected, the longer visit allowed for more quality time with loved ones and the long absence that preceded it made me more aware of their impact.

People often brought up something I said or did as a child, a teenager, or even on a prior visit. Frequent interactions like these and it started to feel like my actions had turned into memory confetti, spread out in the minds of my loved ones. And when they reflected back, I received a piece that I could recombine with my pieces to get a glimpse of who I was at a certain point in my life. I was especially taken aback when I remembered little and they remembered much. I saw this old me, sometimes with surprise and at others with delight. Still similar in some aspects and changed in others.

For instance, I had little memory of writing letters to a dear cousin as a teenager and was touched that she saved them all. I’m still that person. I still write cards and save the meaningful notes written for me. Another cousin remembered a long-forgotten teenage crush in much detail; I’ve moved on from that one (Ha!). I also noted how much my moods and moments impacted others, whether it was humor, angst or anger.

Our daily attention is mostly tied to lining up the wobbly set of resources we’re given into a life path. As we blaze through that path, we embed memories in each other through interactions. The closer we are, the more those memories are cherished and when we circle back to these beloved humans, we see ourselves more fully. We add back long-forgotten details to our psyche, color to our life, and meaning to our path. If we never circle back to those we’ve walked the path with, we forget big and important pieces of ourselves.

The African philosophy of Ubuntu is summarized as “I am because you are” and I felt the full force of this wisdom surrounded by the many who shaped and continue to shape me.

“Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.”
― “So Much Happiness” by Naomi Shihab Nye: poet, editor, songwriter, and novelist

#98: The loves of our life (India Diaries)

You might have heard this proclamation that “so and so is the love of my life”. These statements are often reserved for romantic love and sometimes extended to cover children.

I wonder though if this language limits the full expression of our love. Why do we have to limit to one person or one type of love? Who is to say that the bond one shares with a sibling or cousin (often our first potential friends) is any less than bonds made later in life. A best friend can be the most nurturing relationship we’ve ever had. Ties with parents and grandparents can grow into friendship and delightful affinity. We’re blessed with many different types of loves, all rich in their own ways. Why the compulsion to rank and reduce through comparison?  

A fulfilling life is one with many loves. I just spent three months with several loves of my life and I’m better for it.

“What was said to the rose that made it open was said
to me here in my chest.
What was told the cypress that made it strong
and straight, what was
whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet…”
― Jalal al-Din Rumi, 13th century Persian poet