I started a new book today, and I already learned something from it and had an opportunity to put it to practice. I think you should to, because the author was totally right.
Before I share this new life lesson, some context on why this is so groundbreaking for me, less you say to yourself, "Duh," after reading the rest of this post. (I'm talking to you, Sarah. You've taught me this by example a billion times before, but I guess I had to read it in a book. I'm thankful you're not the kind of friend who will tell me you told me so.)
I am, in many ways, a prototype introvert. I not only don't mind extended periods of time alone, I long for them, schedule them, initiate them. I stay up late to delight in the dark, quiet hours, when all the extroverts are asleep and their mouths are uncharacteristically quiet. I over-think human interaction to the point that even a passing hello to a stranger walking by can be overwhelming. It takes significant effort to strike up conversations with strangers, acquaintances and even sometimes friends I haven't talked to in a while.
I an inclined to embrace my introvert, keep to myself and, except for with a small number of close, meaningful relationships, interact as little with others as possible.
But, though I believe God specifically created me an introvert, I am somewhat painfully realizing that the special introvert strengths He gave me were not meant to keep me at home hanging out with me, myself and Netflix. And Candy Crush.
The author of this book I started today claims that opportunity doesn't knock, it chats. Sure, I thought, for people who chat.
I love to talk. I talk incessantly to my friends and family - and occasionally the brand new acquaintance who asks me the right questions and asks like they're interested in my answers.
But I don't chat.
Didn't chat.
This book convinced me with a story about a simple encounter in a coffee shop. A woman a table away had an ornate book, and the author noticed and commented on its beauty. The woman smiled, said thank you and explained that her friend had compiled all the posts from her blog into that book coincidentally days before her blog mysteriously vanished from the internet. After the woman left, the author noticed she had left it behind. Knowing how important this book was, the author panicked to try and return it to her. She took what she had learned from the conversation and was able to contact the woman. When the grateful woman returned to the coffee shop, she left a $20 tab for the author's future purchases as a thank you. The author was surprised at the gift given to her for simply doing what she thought everyone should do, so she used the funds to buy lunch for a homeless man who frequented the store and surrounding area. She left instructions with the coffee shop employees to use the rest of the $20 to feed the man when he was there. She also sent a note to the woman, letting her know what good her gift had done.
But, really, the good came from the conversation. A simple interaction between two human beings that happened to sit next to each other in a coffee shop bore so much fruit: food and care for a man in need, a couple points for goodness on humanity's scorecard and inspiration for the masses who will read this story in her book.
She went on to convince me of the power of chat with her finding that life is simply more liveable and interesting when we "have friendly interactions between all the transactions."
I didn't quite know how, but I got a chance to give it a try.
Boyfriend's Brother entered the room with the usual and polite, "Hey, how's it going?" and added, for the season, "Happy New Year!"
"Thanks!" I said, "I'm good, how are you?"
"Good," came the automatic reply as he smiled and started to walk out of the room.
There was a pause as I felt my soul tell my mouth, That's it, huh?
No, that's not it. "Um, what'd you do for New Year's?" I shouted awkwardly after him. I'll remind you I'm new at this, in case you're over there laughing at my social stumbling ;)
"Just went to the casino. It was kind of lame, I was home by, like, 12:30. What about you?"
Keep your answers short and ask questions, keep them talking, the book had taught me. I love talking about myself, but I remembered that so does everyone else.
"Had some friends over for a fire, but we couldn't because of the rain and snow. Did you get snow over here?"
I have known Boyfriend's Brother for as long as I have known Boyfriend, and though I have spent significantly less time with him than with Boyfriend, it has been long enough to have had one or two slightly longish conversations. This one, though, lasted at least three times as long as all the others put together. Boyfriend came into the room and joined as well. (He doesn't get as much credit, though; he's a natural chatter.) We talked and related, laughed and encouraged each other. We didn't want to leave. Life wasn't just more liveable, it was warmer, more interesting, more enjoyable.
And something happened that doesn't happen often for an introvert: I chatted, and I liked it.
I came home and talked for an hour on Facebook with an old friend, asking questions and discovering that though we haven't spoken in at least a year, we are sharing very similar experiences in our lives. Amy Alkon says something that reminds me of my best friend, extrovert extraordinaire and chat-meister: "You'll never know whom you'll meet, what you'll become to each other or what fascinating, funny or useful things a person can tell you until you crack them open."
I'm not suddenly swayed to the way of the extrovert. I'll never be the life of the party or be able to actively invest in more than a handful of deep relationships at a time. But I've had an admittedly obvious breakthrough. Introverts too can use their powers to interact with people, even strangers. I won't do it the way extroverts do, but that's not what I was made for.
