Finding your people
“Wasn’t friendship its own miracle, the finding of another person who made the entire lonely world seem somehow less lonely?”
Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life
About 8 years ago I stood on the deck of a boat streaming out to the Great Barrier Reef. I watched my young adult son goof around and trade rather mean, but very clever, jokes with other people. These were his workmates. Other divers and marine scientists and expedition leads and boat types who worked on the tourist vessel carrying us all out for a day of snorkelling, diving and discovery on the reef.
I called my daughter back in Melbourne and reported how happy her brother looked, how the others looked at him with huge respect, with warmth and with love. “He’s found his people” I said joyfully. “ Did you cry?” she asked……” No” replied, But I wanted to. Tears of happiness.
Some time in the last week I had a conversation with someone about when our kids “find their people”. And then I read this piece by my friend David . This week is about tribes. Some seem born with ready made “people” . My daughter was a bit like that. It’s as though she was magnetised and good people were attracted to and stuck to her. My son, not so much. Despite being as funny, smart and friendly as she was, he went through primary school, secondary school and then university without finding his people. He wasn’t alone. He made friends, they were all lovely and shared afternoons playing board games, evenings watching bands of questionable talent and before that kicking soccer balls and digging in the dirt. But none of them really stuck or saw him, as they say.
That day under the brilliant sunshine, with salt water on my skin I saw that he was seen for exactly who he is, and a worry I did not know I carried was lifted. What’s that saying “ you are only as happy as your unhappiest child”. He wasn’t unhappy….but deep down in my bones, as someone who took a while too, to find my people, I knew he would come into a fuller more complete version of himself when reflected lovingly back in the eyes of others.
“Do you know who I am?” she said to her baby.
“Yes, I know who you are. You are not a kitten. You are not a dog. You are not a cow. You are not a boat, a plane, or a snort. You are a bird, and you are my mother!”
Are you my Mother? By P.D Eastman
Why do some of us take so long? How do we know our people them when we see them? From the outside it looks like ease. There’s no performing, lots of laughter ( even amongst the introverts) and lifting up of one another. For quite a while, I know I wanted my people to be people I was not. That is, I think I wanted to be these other things. For surely in finding our people we come home to ourselves. I wanted my people to be talented and popular and seen as leaders. For a time, I wanted to be part of an effortlessly erudite and accomplished group, for whom life laid on riches and success and beach houses and mountain houses and parties and authors as relatives. That’s a problem with going to one of the elite Universities…there were a lot of people there who really were not my people at all, despite the obvious attractions and superficial connection. For a time I was like the baby bird in “Are you my Mother?”, not knowing exactly what I was looking for and mistaking the human equivalents of planes and dogs for my people. Political junkies? Are you my people? Serious post modern literature types? Are you my people? Catholic crusaders? Are you my people?
It turns out, like so much in my life, I was intuitively drawn to jobs and organisations in which my people lurked. If you had asked me at the time who my people were I would not have identified these hard working, low key thoughtful people as my people. Well, it turns out my people are earnest, big thinkers with a bent towards joy and optimism with a dash of humour and an appreciation for beauty. They strive to be their best in whatever arena that is, in ways that fall below the radar and are humble when they achieve that best…or indeed the best!
My son’s people have a bit of a funny mean streak, love the outdoors , the sea and a simple life. They are loyal to a fault and don’t need a lot to live a good life. My daughter’s people are a varied bunch but what sets them apart are their dogged efforts at friendship, their love of good times, seeking to contribute and their kindness.
Finding oneself is an extremely popular pastime right now. Bookshops of the bricks and mortar and virtual kind are full of tomes promising to help you love yourself, know yourself and actualise yourself…I guess as the world becomes too difficult to fathom or even face, maybe turning inwards is a good option. But seeing ourselves reflected in the eyes and laughs of our people is probably the faster and better measure of who we truly are.
Kindness report back
My lenten practice of kindness continues and it feels good. I am also noticing other people acting with kindness: holding an anxious dog and soothing it while its anxious owner goes into a shop, paying for a coffee for someone whose card is declined or pushing a child at the playground so a mum can have a coffee in peace. All these small acts have cheered me up in a week when news of the world suggests the world is a bad and sad and mad place.
This resonated Cyndi…thank you.