Monday, October 12, 2009

Two Rocks and Something Warm To Drink

Friend: [jokingly] So Abby, tell me your life story.
Me: [without skipping a beat] I was born on a rainy night.
Friend: [laughing] Really?
Me: Probably. It could have been raining.

And so the sharing of life stories began. To avoid having to play soccer, my friend Erin and I agreed to follow our friends to watch them play soccer under the following conditions:

1. There was a place for us to sit.
2. We had something to keep us warm.

So Erin and I sat on two large rocks at the edge of the soccer field, drinking our coffee and hot chocolate (I had the hot chocolate!) and telling each other a brief synopsis of our life stories.

And you know how I love process stories.

I like hearing people's life stories; where they lived, how they got to where they are now, where they would like to be. I like discovering who they admire, what they're afraid of, what they struggle with. I like listening to the questions and issues that plague them most, and the answers and opinions they'd like to contribute. I like figuring out what makes them laugh, what they enjoy most.

I suppose that is why I prefer hanging out with people on a one-on-one basis: people are interesting and their stories are fascinating. I am always deeply honored when someone decides to share their story with me. It is never disappointing when people share stories.

This isn't to say that I don't like large groups. I do enjoy large social settings, but only for a short period of time. I am naturally shy and I often find myself uncomfortable quickly when I'm in a large group for too long. I feel more at ease with intimate conversations shared between two-three people; and I always find myself wishing the time together could last longer. However, since intense conversations are also draining, I believe it is a good thing to be able to balance both social settings. But if given the choice, I'd always opt for connecting with people by sharing stories.

Just give me two rocks and something warm to drink.

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