As I was walking across campus the other day, I was captivated by the beauty of my surroundings. The brilliant sunlight was streaming over the tops of buildings and magnifying the rich colors of the leaves around me. Some were stubbornly clinging to the trees, and others were cascading gently to the ground forming brilliant mounds of gold and red. I smiled and chuckled to myself. The vision before me reminded me of the days when my children were young and giggling playfully in the leaves. That memory prompted me to be truly present, and I couldn’t resist the urge to shuffle my feet through the colorful mixture. I partially closed my eyes while doing so to ensure that each of my senses would be actively involved in the process. As the leaves lightly tickled the tops of my feet, my ears enjoyed the quiet symphony; a musical production combining the swish of newly fallen leaves and the crunch of the older dried leaves beneath my feet. My nose was teased by the combination of crisp, cool air and moist, regenerating soil. My taste buds were excited by the promise of the succulent flavors of fall: pumpkin, cider, hot cocoa, and chai. I took a deep breath, silently gave thanks for the moment, and opened my eyes to once again take in the bigger picture. When I did, I noticed a woman who was hurriedly leaving the building for the day. She smiled briefly as our eyes met. I knew I didn’t exactly appear professorial in that moment, but I didn’t care. In fact, I honestly hoped that my somewhat childlike state would stimulate a similar experience for her. I hoped that she, too, would experience a true connection stemming from observation, the review of pleasant memories, and an awakening of the senses.
When people hear the word “connection” today, they automatically think of smartphones, Wi-Fi, and social media. They don’t necessarily consider face to face contact, holding hands, and sensory experiences. While technology enables some forms of connection, many individuals seem to be forgetting some of the simpler, uniquely human, and more powerful forms of connection. I have spent a significant amount of time lecturing about development across the lifespan and the impact that technology has on developing young minds. Honestly, it is impacting each of us and every experience we have. Technology can be an incredible resource, but it isn’t the only resource. While I marvel at the convenience, flexibility, and immediacy that technology affords, part of me laments the changing of the culture that many will never fully experience.
Children inherently understand what connection means. They reach out. They ask questions. They live in the moment. If a friend experiences despair, children don’t feel the need to fix it. They don’t feel pressured to say the right thing. They don’t avoid the interaction. They simply plop right down next to the friend, sit quietly, and share in the moment. How wise they are. We should all aspire to behave similarly. Unfortunately, adults don’t typically mimic the behavior of children. Because many are living in a frenetic, hurried state, they want to fix the problem. They don’t want to experience a state of disequilibrium any longer than is necessary. They want to move forward to an easier place. But life is complicated. Some problems can’t be fixed. Some issues evolve slowly. Some wounds take time to heal. Unfortunately, adults don’t readily accept this lack of control, and if they can’t change the discomfort that is being experienced, they will often avoid the person entirely. This is the exact opposite of what is needed – not only for the one experiencing the despair, but also for the one who has the potential to assist. We are all social beings. We need one another. We need to feel connected.
Technology is a tool that should be used to enhance the quality of our lives. It shouldn’t replace the human interactions we all need. So, today I challenge you to reconnect. Not only with one another, but with yourselves. Allow yourself the time to see the world through a child’s eyes and remember what sensory connection feels like. Listen to their pure laughter and join them in the moment. Hold their tiny hands and enjoy the feel of their soft, smooth skin. Stop what you are doing and taste the chocolate treat they want to share. Deeply breathe in the smell of their skin when they jump into your arms after playing in a pile of multicolored leaves. Take the time. You owe it to yourself. These are the moments worth remembering. These are the connections that make a difference.