Talking to Strangers

Experiencing the ‘big’ in our ‘small’ connections

It was the third week in isolation and it had been another quiet Tuesday: an early morning bike ride with the kids; an hour of draping piles of blankets for cubby houses. And now I had a stolen a moment to leave the house, alone, for an essential item – coffee. On my way to the local cafe, it felt like the whole community was out, eager for their daily dose of fresh air: a young couple walking their dog together; a small boy wobbling on his bike whilst his mother clung to him tightly for balance; an abundance of joggers pounding the pavement at 11am in the morning. 

After ordering my coffee I found a vacant taped green cross on the pavement. There were three other people waiting, all silent and obeying the 1.5 metre rule. I felt an energy connecting us –  a silent acknowledgment of the strangeness of this shared experience. There was comfort in this ‘shared-ness’ even though the social distancing had somehow progressed into eye contact avoidance and an awkward silence that felt akin to being in a packed elevator feeling uncertain about where to look. 

My attention turned towards the fury four-legged being who was doing laps of the queue. The dog’s interesting dappled grey fur had caught my eye. I had been noticing dogs a lot in recent weeks, given my children’s relentless pleas for a puppy that had only exponentiated since the beginning of the pandemic.

My eyes then moved towards his owner, who appeared comfortable in the distraction of robotically scrolling through his phone. I was curious about the breed of his dog but as soon as I contemplated the act of speaking to him, I noticed the familiar team of ‘guards’ that governed my introversion: tightness in my chest; mind-reading thoughts such as this will be too awkward and he doesn’t want to be bothered; the powerful urge to get out my own phone and lose myself into the abyss of emails and Facebook.

However, the memory of a podcast I had listened to last week came to mind. It a was Sam Harris’ Making Sense podcast where he interviewed Laurie Santos on the Science of Happiness. Prof. Santos talked about the significance of micro-connections – those short and temporary interactions we have with strangers and acquaintances - and how research shows that these smaller connections with others can be just as influential on our mood as the deeper interactions we have with our friends and relatives. 

This research made sense to me, as I regularly talk to clients about how when it comes to living a value, it doesn’t matter whether the action we take is big or small. The value is lived regardless. And if the value is lived consciously, it has a huge impact on our sense of self and emotional wellbeing,  

So, I decided to resist the pull of avoidance and spoke up to the owner. “Your dog is beautiful”. The good feelings from bravery started to kick in, so I went on to say “You wonder if pets notice any difference in the world right now.” It was a comment that took me all of five seconds to say. Five seconds to shift the energy in the queue dramatically. The owner turned to me with a smile, suddenly re-engaged in the world and seemingly pleased to be acknowledged and spoken to. 

We chatted about dogs, and then the conversation naturally turned to the pandemic and how we were coping. Noticing the COVID-19 ‘elephant’ on the footpath had suddenly dispelled the awkward energy. And in this very simple two minute exchange, I had lived three important values of mine: connecting to others; being kind and friendly; and being courageous. The bonus by-product of living these values was the spontaneous experience of a very enjoyable connection with another person.

Together, this stranger and I experienced the rare diversion from looking at our phones that has become a reflexive move when we find ourselves alone (particularly when we are waiting for something). Instead, we both ‘looked up’, re-engaged with the world, and experienced one of the most purposeful functions of being a social primate - connecting with others.

And the wonderful thing about this is that these micro-connections are readily accessible to us. Even whist we were in isolation and our social contact was restricted in a way that it has never been before, we continued to have these opportunities available to us - interactions with the shop keeper, the barista, the abundance of walkers out on footpaths. And on some days these were our only in-person contact outside our homes. Our purpose as social primates could still be lived even in this disconnecting existence that we found ourselves in.

Of course, there would have been no significant consequence of me not talking to this stranger. And therefore, it would have been very easy for me to choose not to. Particularly when my mind was trying to convince me that I needed the solitude and quiet that I had been craving all morning. 

However, after I had farewelled the friendly stranger, coffee in hand, I was able to get back to the desired solitude on my walk home. But this time, my walk in silence was accompanied by an extra lift in my step.