Connectivity

Years ago, I first read Madeline L'Engle's book A Stone for a Pillow and, in it, she talked about our connection to nature and to the universe.  She dissected the word disaster, which when broken down to its roots, means a literal separation from the stars.  Because when we are separated from nature, from the light of the stars, the feeling of the earth below us, the pull of gravity and the wind blowing across our bodies, we are disconnected from life.


I was thinking about that last night as I sat outside with some friends, feeling kind of loose thanks to some really good music and some pretty fine beer.  Looking up through the branches above us, I could just make out a few stars between the clouds.  I felt pinned, between the stars above and the ground below.  I felt connected.


More and more I realize that, despite living in a crowded city and being constantly, electronically connected to hundreds of people, most of us spend most of our lives pretty much alone.  We are alone inside our own heads, within our own bodies.  Each of us walks in something like isolation much of our days.


It was a heady feeling as a child to realize my thoughts were truly my own.  Because, at first, I imagined that my thoughts were there for others to see, to hear, to read, and nothing I thought was truly private.  When I realized that I could think as I liked, and no one could look in and see my exact thoughts - though my face probably gave a clue, as I do not possess a poker face - it was both freeing and terrifying.  Freeing because I wasn't going to have my mouth washed out with soap for what I was thinking and I wasn't going to hell, probably, like I'd been warned.  Terrifying because I was alone with my own thoughts, all the time.  In the middle of the night, when frightening dreams yanked me from sleep, with heart pounding and a urge to flee, I could never fully convey that fear to anyone else, and I was all alone in the night, trying to put order back to my thoughts and slow my heartbeat. 


When we are young, there is a sense of knowing, but not really understanding, that other people operate much as we do.  They have the same sense of seeing the world in their unique first person point of view, and they have their own private world inside their heads that I will never completely see.  Even as an adult, I am fascinated and overwhelmed by the frighteningly unending number of internal worlds there are out there.  I try to catch glimpses of it, but I'll never fully understand what even those closest to me are seeing or thinking or feeling.  Their reality is not mine, and our worlds connect only briefly.


Young children who are learning to separate and experiencing separation anxiety are going through a developmental milestone of understanding that they are separate from parents and caregivers, that mother's warm embrace is not an extension of their own selves and desires.  No wonder children cry and cling - they're losing a part of themselves, and breaking a connection that can never truly be regained.  I think about it now, and I have sympathy for my children who are long past that stage, and for the casual way in which I treated their distress during those times.


We spend the rest of our lives trying to forge new connections.  From earliest interactions and playground friendships to complex relationships of adults to sharing worlds with a larger audience, we are constantly seeking assurance that we are not alone.


I was thinking about all of that last night, as I listened to a friend play with her band, admiring her dedication and the way she was both lost in the music and also sharing a piece of herself with a group of friends and strangers.  She creates for herself, but also to connect.  I think now that all creative efforts are done in order to share our world with others.  Music, poetry, prose, two and three dimensional art, plays, dance - they're all ways to give others a glimpse into what we see and how we feel about it.  Some of us feel compelled to create, to forge relationships through this type of sharing.  Creation and connection are two of the urges that make us human.  I believe we are biologically driven to do so.


Connection, after all, is the basis for human creation - for continuing the species.  If we are all separate, and we are aware of how separate we really are, then seeking physical connection with others seems only natural.  Just as I felt last night, feet touching the ground, wind blowing my hair, I can feel connected and real when I'm holding a hand, snuggling a small child, when my senses become tangled with that of another living being.  Physical intimacies are another kind of creation, another way of sharing our world with another.


We talk about connectivity in terms of our digital distances and interactions, but that type of connection feels false - I'm still in mental and emotional isolation during these types of shallow connections.  There is no warmth of skin, sound of breath, no emotional engagement for another living being.  Sitting outside, late on a summer night, surrounded by friends who are laughing and sharing drinks, while feeling the not quite still feeling of the earth beneath my shoes and breathing in the humid air that has been exhaled by those around me, that kind of connection can't be made through my smart phone.


Now, some of my friends resented connecting with the part of nature that comes with six legs and an exoskeleton scurrying across a midnight patio, but still they are connected - through their startled reactions, repulsion and laughter as they found humor in their own response to such a tiny creature.  I'm not a fan either, and I connected with each of those ladies as we gave a collective look of distaste at the roach scuttling out of sight.


Each of us is gifted with a life that no one else can quite understand and experiences that can never be replicated.  By reaching out and connecting, we enhance one another's private worlds, but also bring the outside into our inner workings and enrich ourselves.  I'm making it my goal to put down my phone more this summer and get connected in other ways.