Cultivating connection

This morning, as with most Saturday mornings, I went to the fitness studio. As I walked in, my trainer's mother was leaving. We have taken a few classes together, years ago now, and often bump into each other at the door. We smiled, said hi, and exchanged a few words about hair. A few steps later, I greeted a trainer I haven't worked with before who complimented my shirt. I talked with one of the owners about a project they are launching today. A dear friend ran out and gave me a soul-feeding hug. And then I had a powerful and healing session with my trainer (and did awesome things with my body that felt great, but that's not the point of today's post). 

Every one of these interactions made my day. I love connection. It is one of my values that I sorted out early - little moments of connection nurture me in a way little else does. These little moments of connection are also the threads that come together into the social fabric, that form a community. Some threads are tied tightly together, romantic partners and close friends and family that you build long shared histories with. Others are looser - the Second Cup barista recognizing you and knowing your drink, running into your neighbour on the street, smiling at someone you regularly see on the bus or in the parking lot.

We cannot talk about connection without talking about its absence. Our society has a problem, and that problem is loneliness and isolation. We talk about a loneliness epidemic, about a society that feels unconnected, detached, and uncaring. This is real - and it is explainable. We replaced public spaces with businesses. Town squares turned into shopping malls turned into strip malls. We have to work more to survive, and we don't have time to stop and talk. We moved from careers to gig work, from coworkers to contractors. We built our cities around cars, not buses or sidewalks. (Cue listening to Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell). 

Each of those changes reduced how often we bump into each other. They reduced our free time, made it so we see the same people less often, and pushed us into our own survival treadmills. And all the while, we have been told that that's okay. That we can replace those connections with things. That we can spend our way out of the pain that isolation brings. And I say this acknowledging the irony that my ability to enjoy a Saturday morning of connection depends on my resources and privilege. I don't have to work weekends. I can afford to have a fitness membership and to drive across the city to be there. I am not exhausted from working multiple jobs. 

Connection is a basic need that we have been told to try and live without. Yes, we need food, shelter, and water. But those are meaningless without connection and community. And, at the same time, actively cultivating connection is an act of resistance in a world that wants you to replace it with consumerism. So I have a challenge for you this week. Pay attention to connection. Where are the places (physical or virtual) you encounter it? What are the things that prevent connection? Who can you smile at or say hi to that you haven't in the past? Who have you been meaning to reach out to but keep putting off? How can you add a couple threads to your social fabric?

(This was supposed to be a blog post about celebrating acquaintances and the many types and shades of friendship. But this is what wanted to come out today, so that will have to wait)