I like to think that as I get older, I gain more confidence, but meeting strangers can still send me into a spiral of hesitation and awkwardness. Recently I was walking in my neighborhood and noticed a vaguely familiar person from afar. A man who lives a few doors down from me marched slowly along the curb, arm and arm with an older woman. I had never talked with him up close, but recognized his general features from a distance. The details of his appearance, name, personality and backstory were all unknowns, though my brain automatically created a rough sketch based on other people I've met. A swell of self-consciousness kept my gaze at my feet, a part of me wanting to stay nameless as prepared to pass each other.
At the last moment, I looked up and waved. We were close enough now to make eye contact, so we slowed down to exchange greetings. Within seconds, the approximate mental image I’d concocted was shattered by the reality of his features, his actual name, and the knowledge he was walking with his elderly mother. I felt a sting of embarrassment as I continued down the street. But as the new knowledge of my neighbor sunk in, my hesitancy was supplanted by other emotions: admiration of a mother and son spending together and a concern about the lack of sidewalks on our street.
It’s no secret we are in an age of longing for connection, surrounded by digital facades and social divisions. Deep down, we desire not just to know facts about people and places, but to hear their stories, to be seen and appreciated and valued. To find a home, a refuge, a colorful tapestry of meaning and creativity and care. And not just with people who share our demographics, but instead a community rich in diversity, perspectives, cultures and reciprocal relationships.
Last year, US Surgeon General Vivek Murthy issued a clarion call about the dangers of loneliness. He said this all-too-common phenomenon “is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death . . . the harmful consequences of a society that lacks social connection can be felt in our schools, workplaces, and civic organizations, where performance, productivity, and engagement are diminished.”
Before I get to my list of ideas, we have to face some bad news. Unfortunately, this loneliness cannot be cured at the drop of a hat. It may even be fed by our desire to prove ourselves as worthy of knowing, or our fear of being judged or demeaned.
But if we want to move beyond ignorance and social silos, we have to take a risk. We have to let down our guard and get close enough to recognize specifics, to understand the unique desires, dreams and habits of the people “in our neck of the woods.” Otherwise we’ll be engaging merely with hypotheticals and figments of our imagination rather than the actual places and neighbors in our everyday lives.
Now comes some good news: You are already part of a community simply by being a resident on this planet. No need to earn your place. Despite obstacles or prejudices you have experienced, the truth is that you are invited and belong here. Life is a gift, and living is worth the effort.
Expanding our understanding of our local community is best done through stories, training our attention and curiosity toward specific instances of relationship, conflict and change. This trading and acquiring of nearby narratives helps us treat each other and our environment with generosity, wisdom and respect.
Our search for knowledge is not about puffing up our intellect, but instead about learning how to love better. We can glance from afar at a neighbor or a pond or an apartment building and fill in the gaps with assumptions and fears, or we can step forward to study the specific person or place in front of us. The stories we encounter can be complex and at times overwhelming—heartbreaking yet beautiful. But by delving into them, they can deepen our appreciation of our own story.
In short, this takes time and intention, and it’s messy. This is spiritual work, which is to say that its roots are hidden yet integral to our flourishing. It involves our attitudes, emotions, and values. Like the mysterious movements of the wind, we can learn to pay attention to the sway and influence of goodness in our midst. To find our souls enlarged by awe and wonder. As we come to terms with our flaws and brokenness, we notice a similar condition in the world around us. We may even taste the possibility of healing, discover the motivation to disrupt systems of harm, or to offer our peaceful presence in dry, thirsty places.
A few weeks ago, the title of a library book caught my eye. I did a double take, then lifted it from the shelf. The memoir, written by former US Poet Laureate Natasha Trethewey, bore the same name as the road cutting through my community: Memorial Drive. On the cover, a sepia-toned photo showed a young woman holding a baby to her cheek, her smile tired yet cautious. The inside flap gave a new layer of meaning to the cover image by identifying it as Trethewey with her mother, then shared how Trethewey’s mother was tragically killed in her apartment off Memorial Drive, just down the road from my house, past several landmarks I travel by every week.
I took the book home with me, and within the first several pages I was moved by Trethewey's vulnerability, the vivid way she revisited dreams and memories from her childhood, seeking to better understand her mother and the domestic violence she experienced. It wasn't just moments and conversations she recounted, but places: a drive down an interstate, a cemetery she walked past on her way home from school, the couch where she took a family portrait with her parents before they were divorced, the driveway where her stepfather parked his shiny car. Despite the sorrow and grief present in the story, it brought me a sense of connection to my community, thanks to Trethewey's candidness and courage in exploring her past and the impactful places of love and tragedy that shaped her.
Finally, from one person trying to learn from my local context, here are some ideas for your own journey. Think of them as neighborhood roads to walk on. Paths where, if you push against the awkwardness in your gut and lift your eyes, you may come across a life-enriching story that will enlarge your world. I hope these practices (or others you devise on your own) inspire you to lean into and beyond your loneliness, embrace your desire to be known, and realize the ways you are already part of something larger than yourself.
Walk around your neighborhood or a local park and introduce yourself to a passerby. Ask them what they like about the area or what they would change. Take a pet, a friend or a child with you.
Research authors who are from or write about the place where you live. Read their books from the library or get them from a local bookstore. Look for different styles of literature, too, from poetry to memoir to novels.
Visit the same small business regularly and get to know the owner or employees.
Find a local history museum. Look up the National Register of Historic Places and see if there are any sites in your area. Go to the courthouse or city hall or a post office and see if there are any historical plaques or exhibits on display.
Look up information about the indigenous people who lived (or still live) in your area. If applicable, read records about their culture and learn about what treaties removed them from their land.
Join or visit a community garden, farm or food coop. Replace some of your groceries with locally grown food, and learn about why they grow well in your area. Consider how many generations have been cultivating and eating that same type of produce.
Go to a free presentation by an expert in their field, such as at library, bookstore, or community center. Ask the presenter a question about their childhood influences.
Sign up for a volunteer opportunity, such as with a community of faith, and ask folks about what inspires them to give back.
Learn about the first mayor in the city or municipality where you live. Why were they elected? Did they deliver on their promises? What is their legacy?
Find out who developed or built the neighborhood you live in. Who or what did it displace or belong to before?
Visit a body of water near you and map its watershed on the USGS StreamStats tool. How far does it reach? Go on a walk around part of its perimeter and see if you notice the land sloping away in each direction.
Learn about the local zoning code in your town, and the history and present affects of redlining or other exclusionary zoning practices.
Identify your government representative district (state, territory, local, or federal). When was the last time it was redistricted, and why? Write a letter to one of your representatives, sharing about an issue important to you and thanking them for their service.
Explore a type of entertainment or art you wouldn’t normally, like going to a sporting event, a play, a modern art exhibition, a folk art display or an indie movie theater. What inspiration did the players or artists draw from? How did others react to their performance or works? Does it inspire you to make or do anything?
Attend an event organized by students or children. How do they portray their level of engagement? Do you notice confidence, fear, avoidance, anger?
Visit a food pantry. Talk to the leaders or volunteers about what supplies are most often requested. Try to recruit a friend to help meet one of the needs.
Use a mode of transportation you don’t normally rely on. How do you interact with the space using your five senses? Does it bring back any memories for you?
Participate in or observe a public demonstration or protest in your town. How do the written signs, chants or clothing of the demonstrators make you feel? Can you think of any actions the group can take to further their cause? How would you respond if you had a leadership position that could work in their favor?
Learn which immigrant or refugee populations are most prevalent in your area. Imagine and then research what circumstances most likely prompted them to move. Investigate if there are any non-profits or government programs partnering with these new neighbors.
Try to identify the oldest (or largest) tree on your street or a nearby park. What type of tree is it? What creatures do you notice living on or near it? Try using the Seek app to identify the plants or insects around it. Rest in its shade.
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