What We're Missing

Words
740
Reading
4 min
Listen
Play
4h

During this last trip I was reminded of one of the many reasons I love to travel. Solo travel in many ways leaves you more approachable as well as makes you more likely to initiate conversations with strangers. My recent, brief, trip to Washington D.C. made me realize how incredibly important, powerful, and enriching human connection can be. It also reminded me of how vital it is, if you want to have the full richness of the human experience, to put yourself out there, to be fully present and an active participant in the world. My friend Juan is a natural at this and it's proven to be one of the best lessons he's taught me in our twenty-seven years of friendship.

The adventure began the moment I landed at Reagan National Airport. My Lyft driver, an older African man by the name of Mamadou, picked me up from the airport. During the twenty minute drive I was introduced to some great music from his native Senegal, learned about aviation (he was a pilot for almost thirty years), and just had a great conversation in general. Mamadou had been in the US for twenty-seven years and was just months away from retiring and moving back to Senegal. I gifted him a copy of my book.

Next came the organizer, participant, and emcee of the poetry reading at Busboys and Poets in DC, Dwayne. After the event concluded Juan and I stuck around to talk to some of the performers. Within the course of a fifteen minute conversation Dwayne gave my friend Juan some valuable information about some local art grants and we had a great exchange about poetry and traded social media info. I bought a copy of his most recent book of poetry.

Last, but not least, was Eric. It didn’t take us long to recognize we had a whole lot more in common than just our first names. I was lucky enough to be seated next to this young man on the flight back to Minnesota. He had a layover at MSP before his next flight to Anchorage. We talked, non-stop, during the entire flight. At twenty-four Eric had lived more than most people do in their entire lives. He was a BMX champion in his youth, was an avid fisherman, had most recently worked as an oysterman in Maryland, and was heading to Alaska to spend the next six months on a fishing boat in the Bering Sea. He said this was a lifelong dream of his to work on this 125ft boat and endure 30-40ft swells while trolling for cod, pollack, and halibut. If it all worked out his plan was to work his way up to captain someday.

Connections.jpeg

Even though he and I had quite a bit in common, I have to admit he was infinitely more brave than I was at twenty-four. He was thrilled that the pilot gave him a stack of Delta trading cards and made sure I got one of my own, and wings. I told him I’d send him some of my books when I got back so he gave me his Mom’s address in Iowa and told me to send them there and he’d pick them up after his six month contract was up on the boat.

Delta.jpg

During that four day trip there were other connections like this but the ones I highlighted here were among the best. As we go about our busy days with out heads buried deeply in our screens, our minds on a million things, and earbuds firmly planted in our ears we, quite literally, have no idea the tragedy of what we're missing. Human connection is the best thing.

Human connection, in large part, is how the universe and synchronicity speaks to us. Yet we are, for some reason, afraid of it. We put up so many barriers to make sure we appear unapproachable. We're distrustful of strangers and often assume they have ill intentions—the truth of the matter is most people don't. People want to tell their stories, they want to be heard, they also want to learn our stories. We need to spend less time planning and preparing—more time on being, exploring, expressing, and enjoying. If we want to have a full and enriching life experience sometimes all we have to do is be brave enough to open ourselves up to that.

All for now. Make this a wonderful day.


www.ericvancewalton.net


alt

What We're Missing | Ecency