Sharing and Receiving

receptivity, community, opening up, connection

There is something deeply natural in us: it feels good to share what has happened to us, and it feels good to offer the other half of a biscuit to someone close to us. I have seen this in very young children, and I see it just as clearly, regardless of age, in adults who have remained open to the world around them.

When we meet, different worlds come into contact. The other side of the desire to share is the willingness to receive. If you offer me something, I accept the other half of the biscuit; if you tell me something, I listen carefully. At least I try to… because that instinctive desire to receive another person is still there even when I’m not having a particularly good day myself. 

I try to sense and understand you, not judge you

When I enter a new world, I first look around and allow myself to be surprised by what I find. I let it affect me — and that is where receiving begins. I allow what I have taken in to move through me, and then I flow outward again, beginning in turn to affect the world around me.

It is a lot like breathing, and just as fundamental a need: we take in, and then we give out again. We breathe with our bodies, and something in the soul seems to breathe with us. I don’t think that connection is accidental.

With very few exceptions, we have an instinctive ability to connect with one another on a level beyond words. We can breathe and move together, paying attention with our whole being, with heart and soul. And this can happen even between strangers; deep friendship is not required. Perhaps you have seen a football crowd where everyone holds their breath at the same moment, then leaps to their feet together, shouting, “Gooooal!”

When I try not only to understand you but also to feel what is happening within you, I begin to sense the sadness beneath your smile, the hopelessness behind your anger, or the absence of some deeply human need beneath complete confusion.

I am simply there, and I am not frightened by the dark night of either of our souls. Because when our worlds truly meet, both joy and pain can be reflected in us. And when we are able to be together in this way, life has few greater gifts to offer. 

True encounters are where inspiration begins.

I say something, it sparks something in you, one insight leads to another, and suddenly we are moving freely between thoughts and feelings. We inspire and are inspired; we immerse ourselves in each other’s worlds. And this is often when we laugh the most.

What happens when we close ourselves off?

When we begin to close ourselves off from one another and reject openness and receptivity, we find ourselves working against some of our most basic impulses. Fear digs a trench between us, and somewhere in that trench the love that is naturally present within us seems to drain away instead of flowing freely between us.

It is not our different opinions, perspectives or truths that create these trenches and deepen them into chasms. It is fear. And we can be afraid of almost anything. One of our strongest fears is exclusion. In earlier times, being cast out could effectively amount to a death sentence.

But belonging also means accepting the values and truths of the community.

Every community has certain rules of the game which, like a well-placed barrier, both protect us and prevent us from doing certain things. Or they may encourage us to do certain things, or quietly accept them. In exchange for security and protection, they ask for some of our freedom and our loyalty.

That is why it matters to maintain a living connection not only with one another, but with our own inner world as well.

Our inner world is like the keel of a sailing boat: it can bring us back into balance when strong influences and fears make us tilt too far to one side. Circumstances are always what they are, but in every moment we still have the possibility of choosing. We can choose our perspective: whether to look for what we share or for what separates us. And we can also decide how much of ourselves we are willing to sacrifice.

We can react instinctively, out of fear. We can judge in advance and shut ourselves away. 
Or we can give one another a chance, accepting the risk that comes with opening up and receiving another person. 

And then, through shared experiences, living and welcoming communities can emerge — places where, with a little luck, each of us can be ourselves. Communities where the guiding principle is not fear, but love. And if more and more communities like these come into being, they really can make this world a better place.