The Language I Speak

I was inside the huge dining room at Omega, sitting alone at one of their big round tables having breakfast. Nian approached, “Is it OK if I join you?” I was happy for the company.

“What workshop are you taking?”

“Memoir Lab with Marge Piercy and Ira Wood.”

         

“Oh, I wanted to take that one but I signed up at the last minute and didn’t have time to read their book, so I thought I’d better not.” Then she shared vulnerably about her reason for “just needing to get away” for the weekend. “Would you mind telling me your story?”

I told her mine and she told me hers. We shared vulnerably and connected meaningfully through the stories that have shaped our lives...through our attempts to make sense of them...to find meaning in them. Within minutes we were in the depths with each other.

As we got up to leave for our respective classes, Nian looked at me and said, “You know, if we had met on the street, we would never have talked. Here I am in my hippie garb...and I looked at you and thought, ‘There’s a good Christian woman.’” Even in that, Nian shared authentically. I laughed heartily at her honesty.

In all probability I will never see Nian again. Yet I feel exceptionally close to her. I find it rare in our culture to move to these vulnerable, authentic depths. However, at Omega, most people were quite comfortable in the deep...speaking my language...my metaphor for making deep, meaningful connections, something I crave, an environment in which I thrive.

I felt a safety at Omega that I generally do not experience. I am an introvert in a world that values extroverts. That it makes sense that I generally do not experience safety became all too clear in a recent column in the Huffington Post. It seems that as recently as 2010 the American Psychiatric Association thought about classifying “introverted personality” as a disorder in the newest version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manuel. In some ways it was a shock to learn that some consider us interior quiet types as mentally ill. In other ways, it is not so shocking. My family, my mother in particular, worried aloud on more than one occasion in the presence of others, “What’s wrong with Linda....” They, too, were not comfortable with my way of being in the world.

The Huffington Post article went on to list twenty-three characteristics of interior quiet types that gave me some clues about “the language” I speak. Many people interpret our need for solitude to recharge our batteries as not liking people. That is far from our truth. I actually crave the mutual vulnerability that results in authentic connection. I am not comfortable with idle chatter because of the barrier I experience it creating between people. Despite being accused of being too intense, I value thought-provoking, philosophical conversations like the one I shared with Nian. I dislike being in groups where conversation gets tossed around like hot potatoes. It takes me awhile to process my thoughts and find a way to express them. I feel much more articulate when I write than when I speak. My best creativity comes when I’m alone and can think things through without interruption. But in fast-paced groups, even when I finally have something to contribute, I can’t get in. I wind up feeling lonely and invisible. I much prefer groups where turns are taken or a leader makes sure that everyone has a chance to have their say.

I was at Omega during family week. There were lots of kids and teens with their families who return for this experience every year. High energy abounded. Omega’s mission is “awakening the best in the human spirit.” The support being given to everyone was phenomenal. Aspiring young musicians staged a concert for us one evening, the culmination of their week of being taught how to perform. We adults in the audience hooted and hollered in support of them, clapping and dancing to their music. It brought tears to my eyes. What a confidence builder for them. I see great things ahead for them. And I wonder what my life might have been like had I experienced that kind of support at their age.

Being among people who speak my language at Omega had a profound influence upon me at my age. I experienced myself being seen, known, and valued, sometimes in most surprising ways. Upon hearing my story, I was told by one attractive 30ish blonde in the Memoir Lab that I am an inspiration to her, that despite the difficulties I've faced in my life, I'm still growing. "I'll remember you." That meant so much to me. Another equally attractive 50ish blonde from the Relax and Write class told me that I’m her favorite writer in our group. I was astounded. There were some very accomplished writers in our group of about thirty-five. She looked at me like I was a celebrity. That night I had difficulty sleeping. I hardly knew myself. It took awhile for it all to sink in. These experiences reminded me of what a beloved seminary professor said to me once, “I don’t think you know the impact you have on others.”

And how could I? When the majority in our culture devalues quiet interiority and some see it as a disorder...when my family worries about something being wrong with me, it has an impact. It has been difficult for me to fathom that I might actually have a positive effect on others...especially when I am relaxed and just being my authentic self, as I was able to be at Omega. I was freer there because I imagined that I would never see those folks again.

I give gratitude for those small pockets of safety where quiet, interior types are seen, valued, and nurtured, where there is space for the speaking of our language, where deep, meaningful connections are made. I am grateful for a phone call I received earlier today from a dear friend right here in Dayton. We dove right into the deep and stayed there for over an hour of meaningful connection. Down there in the deep, my soul is fed and my spirit thrives. Those spaces remind me that I do indeed make a positive impact. I need that. I think we all do.

Ponderings: 
What feeds your soul? 
What makes your spirit thrive? 
What language do you speak?

"This is the soulful meaning of happiness: 

to live the life that is truly ours, 

to give the most of who we essentially are."  

Jack Weber

"The greatest gift you can give others is your best you—your healthiest you."

Joseph J. Sweere