Next Question: Is This a Problem?
So. The issue that I talked about in this post. I have been thinking more. (uh oh :P )
It comes down to this: am I going to be a social animal, or a loner?
Traditionally, I have been a loner. And I am ok with being so. I know the costs: social awkwardness, decreased ability to deal with large/ caucophanous groups of people, fewer social reflexes, smaller impact on the world...etc. But somebody wise (I think Buddha) said, "never allow your happiness to be dependent on something that can be taken away from you." And that is what I would be doing. In order to be part of something larger, I would have to do on a bigger scale what I have to do in order to have a beloved: intentionally unbalance myself so that I am a part, not a whole, so that I can belong and other people can belong to me. I have deemed it worthwhile (at least so far) to do this on a small scale, with one (or maybe two) other people. I don't know if it would be worthwhile to adopt it as a lifestyle.
I can never be taken from myself (without severely breaking me, and then it would be debatable as to whether or not I was still actually a person...) so if I am my own island and rely wholly on myself for my own happiness, I can nearly guarantee that I will always be happy. But, particularly lately, the world has been showing me the usefulness and wisdom of being social. I mean, I'm not especially antisocial most of the time, but the pack mentality- thinking of others and the group as a whole before one thinks of oneself is lacking if I were to choose this option. It would be something I would have to learn. A story that highlights the advantages:
My grandparents, mother and I were at a restaurant, waiting for my uncle and aunt to join us, and it was crowded, so we sat at the bar to be out of the way. Mom and I ordered waters, and grandfather tipped the waitress for bringing them, even though they didn't cost anything, and she would have had to anyway once we were seated. Then, when everyone got there and we were seated, the waitress passed word among the servers and kitchen that we were nice, and they paid very careful attention to our dietary requirements, and brought us a complementary appetizer that fit everyone's requirements, without us ever asking for anything. And everyone was happy. The waitress was happy, our waiter (for the table) was convinced of our niceness and so was happy and chatty and nice, we all were happy, trying something none of us would have gotten otherwise. There was no mention of barter, or 'supposed to.' Everyone was focused on happiness and appreciation.
This is good. I think (though I am not sure) that this is a key to being a loved person. (The difference between going to a restaurant every day and having the waitstaff vaguely remember you after a while, and going there regularly and becoming a favored customer.) Which is something I've been trying to figure out for a while. It feels important.
A loner does not inspire that kind of familiarity. People do their jobs and no more. A loner does not seek to gain social power or to please strangers, with or without expectation of extra effort in return. A loner doesn't build a community; that's what makes them a loner. Or, well, there are communities of loners, but they tend to be nebulous and compulsory (people are using the same space or service and don't fit in to the other social groupings.) I have belonged to groups of loners (except in high school) since middle school, maybe before. It is nice to have other people around, who enjoy your presence, and from whom you can draw inspiration, and to whom you can give expression, but who don't need you to be around. You are free to come and go as you please, and if you are gone for a couple of weeks, or your attendance in a loner group is spotty, there is no problem; it is not even remarked upon. People take what you give and don't ask questions and accept whatever parts of you you choose to share, without demanding more, or adhering do any kind of social code.
Now, I have been trying to develop a more social aspect towards random encounters- showing that I notice or appreciate strangers, striking up the tiny conversationletts of two people going in the same direction for a bit, or sitting on a park bench. But I'm not sure I want that change to echo all the way down into me. It bears further study.
It comes down to this: am I going to be a social animal, or a loner?
Traditionally, I have been a loner. And I am ok with being so. I know the costs: social awkwardness, decreased ability to deal with large/ caucophanous groups of people, fewer social reflexes, smaller impact on the world...etc. But somebody wise (I think Buddha) said, "never allow your happiness to be dependent on something that can be taken away from you." And that is what I would be doing. In order to be part of something larger, I would have to do on a bigger scale what I have to do in order to have a beloved: intentionally unbalance myself so that I am a part, not a whole, so that I can belong and other people can belong to me. I have deemed it worthwhile (at least so far) to do this on a small scale, with one (or maybe two) other people. I don't know if it would be worthwhile to adopt it as a lifestyle.
I can never be taken from myself (without severely breaking me, and then it would be debatable as to whether or not I was still actually a person...) so if I am my own island and rely wholly on myself for my own happiness, I can nearly guarantee that I will always be happy. But, particularly lately, the world has been showing me the usefulness and wisdom of being social. I mean, I'm not especially antisocial most of the time, but the pack mentality- thinking of others and the group as a whole before one thinks of oneself is lacking if I were to choose this option. It would be something I would have to learn. A story that highlights the advantages:
My grandparents, mother and I were at a restaurant, waiting for my uncle and aunt to join us, and it was crowded, so we sat at the bar to be out of the way. Mom and I ordered waters, and grandfather tipped the waitress for bringing them, even though they didn't cost anything, and she would have had to anyway once we were seated. Then, when everyone got there and we were seated, the waitress passed word among the servers and kitchen that we were nice, and they paid very careful attention to our dietary requirements, and brought us a complementary appetizer that fit everyone's requirements, without us ever asking for anything. And everyone was happy. The waitress was happy, our waiter (for the table) was convinced of our niceness and so was happy and chatty and nice, we all were happy, trying something none of us would have gotten otherwise. There was no mention of barter, or 'supposed to.' Everyone was focused on happiness and appreciation.
This is good. I think (though I am not sure) that this is a key to being a loved person. (The difference between going to a restaurant every day and having the waitstaff vaguely remember you after a while, and going there regularly and becoming a favored customer.) Which is something I've been trying to figure out for a while. It feels important.
A loner does not inspire that kind of familiarity. People do their jobs and no more. A loner does not seek to gain social power or to please strangers, with or without expectation of extra effort in return. A loner doesn't build a community; that's what makes them a loner. Or, well, there are communities of loners, but they tend to be nebulous and compulsory (people are using the same space or service and don't fit in to the other social groupings.) I have belonged to groups of loners (except in high school) since middle school, maybe before. It is nice to have other people around, who enjoy your presence, and from whom you can draw inspiration, and to whom you can give expression, but who don't need you to be around. You are free to come and go as you please, and if you are gone for a couple of weeks, or your attendance in a loner group is spotty, there is no problem; it is not even remarked upon. People take what you give and don't ask questions and accept whatever parts of you you choose to share, without demanding more, or adhering do any kind of social code.
Now, I have been trying to develop a more social aspect towards random encounters- showing that I notice or appreciate strangers, striking up the tiny conversationletts of two people going in the same direction for a bit, or sitting on a park bench. But I'm not sure I want that change to echo all the way down into me. It bears further study.