The Art of Basking is Lost on Us
Does anyone feel like there’s this unspoken code of honor for social intercourse and friendships? It’s like a cult for philophobics where paranoia is the driving force for how one shows up in relationships. God, forbid you don’t reply within 5 minutes, and the 12 disciples are casting you off the face of the earth on behalf of the person you inadvertently delayed in responding to because they must protect their ‘peace their peace’—whatever that means. So much of how we interact and show up with people is based on assumptions. People do not wear their hearts on their sleeves for fear of it getting stolen. Valid in how they feel, it takes away from the organic and intimate process of connecting with people. We lost the art of basking; it seems like nobody wants to revel in the moment these days without presumptuous theories of how it could all go wrong. Live a little, loll a little; be whimsical, and stop letting the fear of rejection take up so much space. If rejection and abandonment were to fight in an exhibition boxing match, who do you think would win? I fear the judges might reach a split decision, and a therapist disguised as a boxing referee would step in, asking them to hug and cry it out. We can withstand anything, so hearing someone say they’re not interested—or even giving a silent departure (aka ghosting, the Irish goodbye, and any number of other vaguely etymological terms)—is not the end of the world. Stop taking things so personally because nothing other people do is because of you, well sometimes, but you catch my drift.