I think the reason we’re all plonked on this planet is to connect. At a cellular level, we are but a flurry of connections. Our greatest sense of purpose comes from intimacy and sharing.
Hilariously, despite our most arrogant efforts to impress each other with Big Important Things, most of us find that the greatest connection comes via life’s minutiae – sharing mending tips over the back fence, looking at each other’s cat pictures on Instagram, realising other people wake at exactly 3am each night, too.
I think it’s at this manageable, micro level we are best able to get still and grounded enough to be able to truly see each other. And, thus, to recognise ourselves in each other. It’s away from the Big Important Things that we have the space and quietness to see the vulnerability and humanness in others, and ourselves. And the space to appreciate the comforting banality of life.
Speaking of which, today’s post is simply a sharing of some really banal stuff that only plays out in the ridiculous privacy of my own head, for the sole purpose of connecting. I’d love to see if others have had the same experience. I’m after the me too! factor from everyone. I’d also love to hear about some small, vulnerable moments from you guys, so I can see the vulnerability in myself. I’ll get things started…
I can only remember names by the visual shape of the letters. Which means I get terribly mixed up between all the Gary’s and Greg’s in my world.
I’m forever counting in sets of three (my steps, my chews, at the petrol bowser when I’m waiting for the car to fill). If I’m anxious it increases to four. If we get to five I know it’s time to get a grip on my life again.
I look at strangers and imagine them as kids.
At least once a day I wonder if anyone has ever thought exactly the same thought as the one I’d just had. Like that one I just expressed.
I do the same with patches of dirt when I go bushwalking. Has anyone else stood on this exact spot before? Is there anywhere on the planet that is truly virgin?
I don’t like putting worn clothing back in my cupboard. So I wear the same outfit several days in a row until it needs washing.
PS I wrote about how I’m neurotic like this once before. It might spark some extra banal ideas.
Now over to you…
