Curiosity, Connection and Boundaries

Shayne and I went to a local Farmer's Market this morning and there was a free book table. I stopped and found a book by Miriam Zimmer Bradly that I'd never seen before, and picked it up, quite excited about my found treasure.

As we were walking up an aisle, a woman stopped me and asked what book I had. I showed it to her and she said she had read Avalon years ago, and how nice it was to find Ancestors of Avalon in the series.

Then she pivoted to a necklace I had on, one that I had made, and was wondering if the stone was turquoise; which it was, and that she liked it, and all of a sudden she stopped the connection with an apology for 'getting up in my business'.

I assured her she wasn't, and that I enjoyed the interaction, since at 57 years old, random people don't often spontaneously get into much with me at all.

I appreciate any curiosity about my life and my choices and especially love the opportunity to learn something about them, too.

It was a nice experience, and one I've been musing on all day. I found it curious she felt the need to apologize for the spontaneous connection and what that says about our culture these days.

This morning, Shayne showed me a CBS special about a young woman, Molly Schafer, who painted a portrait of 44 of her high school classmates and gifted the people she painted with her work as a graduation gift.

The twist here is for whatever reason, these kids had all been friends with her when she was younger, but as they grew older, their curiosity and connection to the artist faded, likely due to her own social anxiety.

Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she spent hours and hours observing them and capturing them on canvas.

She spent her time and energy noticing them. She really looked. She painted her subjects with kindness and I would say, love.

She wanted to connect with them again, and she did it by breaking through the boundaries she had in her mind about reconnection.

It's rare to be noticed and really seen these days. Heads are often down, looking at screens while waiting for the next train, plane or doctor's appointments.

Molly said something interesting, though, about her realization that most people don't really think about you at all. So she decided to think about them, and show them the beauty of what she saw.

A moment is all it takes to make someone's day by simply noticing them, being curious about what you see, and connecting with them.

That's a boundary worth breaking, and I'm going to try and break it more often.