The world seems to be tilting on it's axis right now. Financial markets rise and then plummet, see-sawing up and down fast enough to induce nausea. Political candidates jab at one another like tired prize fighters, and stammer to explain their positions on issues of global and lasting importance. If you stop long enough to think about the future, you may just end up in tears. I do. It all seems so uncertain.
At times like these, it pays to remember that we're all in this together.
Anxiety has a way of making you feel more alone and more vulnerable. Life feels less like an adventure and more like a threat when you're isolated. It's a vicious downward spiral.
This week we're visiting my family in California. As we waited for our flight at the airport Tuesday, I followed my busy toddler around the terminal. He pointed out planes, climbed on the chairs, and ran circles around other waiting passengers.
And he hugged people. That's right. Mama's little cling-monster broke free of his stranger anxiety at Washington's Reagan National Airport. He ran full speed ahead, darting and dashing between people until another child caught his attention. And then, without warning or pretense, he ran to his fellow pint-sized traveler, arms open wide, and gave them a hug. And they hugged him back.
He made friends with one young boy, Cameron, who was on his way home to Park City, Utah after visiting his Grandma in Virginia. We explained we were on our way to visit Carson's Grandma, who lives in California. The boys played in the airport gate area and talked at the back of the plane in line for the lavatory. Fast friends indeed.
Grown ups don't approach others this way. We hustle and bustle along, getting things done, worrying about how we'll pay the bills, whether we're teaching our kids the right lessons, and what tomorrow will bring. And the weight of our responsibilities seems to rest on our narrow shoulders alone.
Perhaps what we need is more hugs -- a stronger sense of camaraderie with others. Life is, after all, a daring adventure, or nothing at all. And we're all in this together.
