"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."
--William Dement (Sleep Researcher)
I love this quote. Our nightly insanity is something we all share, young, old, rich and poor.
I would add this: If someone were to record my thoughts during the day, including my worries, reminders, warnings and scolding of myself, they would think that I am insane all day long.
At her TED talk, "The Power of Vulnerability," Brené Brown points out that courage and vulnerability are two sides of the same coin. When I first heard this, it seemed oxymoronic, but then it made total sense. You need courage to be vulnerable to others and when you are vulnerable, you can have real relationships, which makes you strong, courageous. Here's an except from Brown's TED talk:
There was only one variable that separated the people who have a strong sense of love and belonging and the people who really struggle for it. And that was, the people who have a strong sense of love and belonging believe they're worthy of love and belonging. That's it. . . . What they had in common was a sense of courage. . . . [T]he original definition of courage, when it first came into the English language -- it's from the Latin word "cor," meaning "heart" -- and the original definition was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. And so these folks had, very simply, the courage to be imperfect. They had the compassion to be kind to themselves first and then to others, because, as it turns out, we can't practice compassion with other people if we can't treat ourselves kindly. . . . [T]hey were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were, which you have to absolutely do that for connection. The other thing that they had in common was this: They fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. They didn't talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating . . . They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, "I love you" first ... the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees ... the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They're willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental.
. . . .
[W]hen we work from a place, I believe, that says, "I'm enough" ... then we stop screaming and start listening, we're kinder and gentler to the people around us, and we're kinder and gentler to ourselves.
There are so many smart, interesting and kind-hearted people out there! They are everywhere and all you need to do is meet them, but how do you meet them? My friend Dahven has a rule. She assumes that even at a drab party, there is someone else there who has a good story. Dahven reminds herself that she will inevitably come away from every party enriched. She only needs to start her treasure hunt to find that person and to hear that story. She tells me that she has never been disappointed.
But some of us struggle with the task of walking up to talk with strangers. Journalist Kio Stark has made a career out of urging people to talk with strangers and her best technique is triangulation. Simply put, rather than walking up to directly talk to a stranger, identify some interest that you might have in common to talk about, such as the stranger’s dog or a book they are reading. Stark’s TED talk is well worth watching (see also, James Hamblin’s video at The Atlantic--a controlled study in triangulation).
I’ve was reminded how powerful triangulation can be. I’ve recently rekindled a childhood passion: rockhounding. Most people love beautiful rocks and they serve well as objects for triangulation. I recently finished tumbling my first batch of rocks from Missouri creeks. Almost without fail, when I show these smooth colorful tumbled rocks to others, this results in smiles and good conversation. I’ve seen it over. I love rocks, other people tend to love rocks, and I really enjoy getting to know new people. It’s a winning combination. Rocks are powerful catalysts for social interactions. Here are three quick examples.
#1: After posting my photos of tumbled rocks on FB, I was PM’d by a woman 
named Patti Kemper, who asked for my house address. Why? She explained that she saw how much I enjoyed rocks and she wanted to send me some exotic rocks that she had found near her home in Las Vegas. A few days later a big box of beautiful rocks, including some raw chalcedony. Wow! Why did Patti send these to me? Because she was delighted to see on FB that I was so excited about tumbled rocks. I’ve also seen this at FB rockhounds groups, where members share in each others’ discoveries and offer each other advice how to identify rocks and where to find new rocks.
[More . . . }
We are intensely social beings. This is a predicament because it takes a lot of work to maintain social connections and even the strongest of connections can sometimes fail. It’s worth the work and it’s worth the risks, though, because this social predicament offers us our only chance to live a meaningful life.
Many people who are shy or (like me) introverted might be tempted to think that a meaningful life can be sustained by passively observing the world around us. We might be tempted to think that we can retreat into some sort of safe place, somehow living a meaningful life while watching the crazy, beautiful and (sometimes) dangerous social spectacles crisscrossing our space-time at a distance.
But a meaningful life is only possible when we work hard to forge deep vulnerable personal honest connections with others. Life can be meaningful only to the extent that we bravely reach out to others at the risk of failure and rejection.
Our journey is thus a non-stop crisis. The human condition compels us to keep approaching social intersections of danger and opportunity. There is no place to pull over to be neutral. There is no way to fully light up our potential by vicariously living the adventures of others, including the adventures of sports heroes or Hollywood characters. To the extent that we fail to take personal risks of connection, the meaningful life withers. If we had been given instruction manuals at the moment we were born, this would be Lesson One: Maintaining close personal connections with others is a necessity of life, as important as food, water and air. Chapter Two: A Life without close friendships is an emotionally impoverished life. Lesson Three: We will often fail in our attempts to connect with others and when this happen, it will hurt.
Lesson Four is that we can often get up, dust ourselves off and be better and stronger because of failures to connect with others. This “good” type of failure is only possible, however, if we can ridicule and silence voices that tell us to stop taking risks, whether these are voices of other people trying to “help” us or whether we are broadcasting these pernicious voices inside of our own heads.
I’ve been thinking about these things a lot recently. For the past year, I had been in a period of relatively blissful “normal” life, where everything seemed safe and steady, including an ongoing romance. But then a huge wave hit me from behind and everything was instantly upside down. It’s as if I were at a movie theater where the movie screen caught fire and I started thinking: “This incredible CGI makes it look like there is a real fire,” but then I realized it was a real fire. Then the announcer stated: “We’re taking a break from normal life. Good luck to you.”
I LOVE these gravity-defying sculptures. Maybe these were created by people who were half-sculptors and half-magicians . . .