I was out walking with my kids the other day. We were running some errands and had some time to kill in a part of the county where I usually don’t spend much time. So I asked my friend google if there were any trails nearby and three options came up within a 10 minute drive of us.
We headed to the first one, and there was no where to park. So we drove on. The second one was apparently a private trail access for residents of that neighborhood only. So we drove on. Thankfully, the third one, had parking and public access. Thankfully, because by then the kids were definitely getting irritated by having been in the car for almost half an hour and mom’s seemingly aimless driving.
The trail meandered through some wooded areas, more or less parallel to a stream and the unfenced backyards of some houses. There were some people loading their bikes onto their car when we arrived, but it was pretty empty otherwise. A sign at the beginning of the trail mentioned that the trail was maintained by a local mountain biking group. I was a little nervous because the dirt path itself was pretty narrow and I would probably have to pitch the kids into the undergrowth not to get run over by bikes if any were to come upon us as we walked.
As it was, the trail was pretty empty. We came across a lady walking a dog and one or two other walkers, but that was it. At one point, we went off the path to what looked like part of an old drainage tunnel into the stream. I sat on a log and nursed the baby, while the two older kids spent some time throwing leaves into the water and watching them float down the stream. The shade and the cool rush of water made it an ideal place to rest during our walk. The weather was pushing the mid 80s, and even the sound of the rushing stream seemed to make things feel less hot.
It having rained the night before, there was definitely mud. The eight year old was wearing her sandals and delighted in the cool squelch of mud between her toes on such a hot day. Of course the three year old wanted to follow suit in his brand new, still-shiny pink sneakers. I tried to be okay with that. Perhaps my initial squeak of disapproval was unsuccessfully smothered as I mentally reminded myself that it was just mud, and the purpose of impromptu hikes is not to stay clean.
On the way back to the car, the eight year old ran on ahead down the path while I paced myself with the three year old’s sturdy little legs. At one point, I looked up and saw the eight year old talking to a man who was working on some of the trees. As we got closer, I saw that he was part of the mountain biking group that maintained that trail. By the time I got to him, however, the eight year old had taken off again, so I nodded hello, and continued on.
“Were you talking to that man?” I asked my daughter, when I caught up to her.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“What was he doing?”
“He was pulling vines off the trees.”
“Oh.”
“But I knew that. I could tell. But you know, ” she continued, “sometimes when you work by yourself, it’s nice when someone comes up and asks you questions. I wanted to be nice to him and be interested in what he was doing.”
Later that day, I was listening to a recent episode of On Being, featuring a conversation between the host Krista Tippett and the renowned primatologist Jane Goodall. Tippett always releases an unedited version of her conversations, alongside the edited version that is heard on the radio, and I usually prefer listening to the unedited version of the conversations. There are so many small details that don’t make it to the edited version – details that are not really substantial to the conversation at hand – a mic check where Tippett asks the guest what they had for breakfast, for instance – but I think they really show the craft and care that go into having a sincere conversation.
There were so many thoughtful and inspiring moments in their conversation, but the one that struck me the most came towards the end. One of Tippett’s standard questions towards the end of a conversation is to ask the guest what they think it means to be human. And Goodall, as part of her answer, said that it was the difference between intellect and intelligence.
“I believe that a trick of this intellect,” she continued, “… was that we developed this way of communicating – of speaking. So I can tell you things that you don’t know. You can tell me things that I don’t know. We can teach children about things that aren’t present. And all that has enabled us to ask questions like ‘Who am I?’, ‘Why am I here?… and I believe, part of being human is a questioning, a curiosity…”
And as I was listening to this, I couldn’t help but to remember what my eight year old said in the woods earlier that day, and how she seemed to understand that asking questions and exchanging information was so fundamental to connecting with other people. I was struck by how her sense of empathy manifested it self in a natural curiosity. And I thought, perhaps it is not just the questioning that makes us human, but also the seeking and sharing.
I know this pandemic has been hard on many of us because all the ways that we usually seek and share have been restricted – especially all the ways we are compelled to seek and share with strangers. One of the challenges I’m finding these days is nurturing that impulse at a time when we are being told to be suspicious and cautious around people who aren’t in our “bubble”. It’s a challenge both as a person and as a parent. My daughter seems to show no such reluctance to seek and share, but I have to balance that beautiful forwardness with the need to behave safely and responsibly.
I remember one day, about three weeks into the quarantine, when I had to go to school to pick up a laptop of the 8 year old. The school employee handing out the laptops was the first stranger I had seen in ages. And interacting with an unfamiliar person sure felt strange. It was as if I had forgotten what it was like to smile, exchange pleasantries and connect with someone new. The deeper we get into staying at home, the more indefinite the terms are, the more I worry that my impulse for connection and curiosity will wither. And I wonder if I have to worry about the same for my children.
Back in June, on and episode of Fresh Air the epidemiologist Michael Osterholm made a comment about how we should stop using the term “social distancing”. “What we should do is physical distancing, but don’t social distance” he says. “If there is ever a time when we all need each other, it is now.”
That thought has stayed with me over the months. Yes, we are quarantining, but we don’t need to isolate ourselves off from anyone, not even strangers. So I try to smile at people, even when wearing a mask. I try to take time to read and exchange tips with internet strangers in different forums. I encourage the kids to speak up and compliment people’s dogs when we meet them on our walks. When we do encounter neighbors, we take time to talk and catch up. On hikes, we maintain distance and wear masks, but we also take time to tell fellow hikers of neat things that we’ve passed on the trail so that they, too, might also be on the look out for frogs in logs and waterfalls. We remind ourselves to connect with others, to ask seek answers, and to share information. This pandemic does not mean we need to go forth alone.