“Hey, Leo!” I said to a man I used to see fairly regularly on my morning walks.
“Hello, Mary-Elizabeth," he said back, “I haven't seen you in a while.”
I guess I don't look like a Mary-Elizabeth, or something, because people often forget my name. So it was a sweet surprise to hear Leo's reply.
Anyway, I explained that I had a new routine: I was out for a quick dose of morning sun, and then it was back home to use my personal trampoline.
“A personal trampoline?” he said sounding unsure if he heard me right.
“Yeah, they're called rebounders and you might be interested too!"
As I was telling him to search “health benefits of rebounding" and other information, I figured it'd be easier to write everything down. That's when I realized I didn't have a pen or paper.
Usually, I have a pen and paper on me at all times.
I learned ages ago that if we're prepared for inspiration, we'll get it. Back then, I carried pen and paper to capture all kinds of ahas!, from tidbits I heard on NPR to eye-catching color combinations I'd see walking around D.C.
(That was the “olden days” before smartphones. Now I click photos of colors.)
Though capturing ahas! is a very worthy thing, carrying pen and paper has taken on a more pressing purpose for me nowadays: creating human connection, an essential part of our prosperity…our aliveness.
Whether it's true or not, I operate as if one of the words people most love to hear is their own name when said with kindness. And experience tells me that remembering people's names is a powerful act that helps them feel valued.
Lucky for us, a pen and paper are simple tools for “winning” the name game.
When I cross paths with someone new who I'm likely to see again—especially a neighbor or clerk in a local store—I tell them my name, ask theirs, repeat it back (and in my head) and write it down as soon as possible.
Sometimes I even ask people to spell their names so that I can really lock it into my brain, which the act of manually writing a name down helps to do too.
“Pundits and policymakers are applying the word ‘loneliness’ to address a real and growing problem, but they are applying the wrong diagnosis.
What they might call ‘loneliness’ is actually a different sort of crisis, one of depersonalisation. Depersonalisation is what happens when people feel not exactly lonely, but rather profoundly invisible.”
—Allison J. Pugh
The article introduces Paul, a former project manager who started working for platforms like Lyft, Uber and TaskRabbit after a series of layoffs. He says:
‘Honestly, a lot of times, I go out and the person doesn’t even know my name, even though I introduced myself as Paul.’
Despite some exceptions, the article says, “the longing to be seen is widespread, acknowledged in popular culture, and supported by research.”
Each of us has the power to help the Pauls of the world to be seen, especially when we carry pen and paper to capture their names.
When I was new in Atlanta and feeling lonely, I considered who else might be feeling that way or worse. That led me to volunteer to visit and do light chores for a woman dealing with cancer who was largely confined to her apartment.
What I'm saying is if you feel unseen, reap what you sow by seeing fellow humans first.
