It looks like I wasn't the only one yesterday intrigued by the post of HoCoConnect on Super Connectors. This morning I followed up by reading the piece he linked to on what it takes to be a Super Connector. I found it rather creepy. I think that what made Dennis Lane so brilliant at this is that his was an innate ability. He may have refined it through the years, and I am sure it came in handy in his professional career as well. But nobody had to make a list for him. He was, simply put, gifted.
It is possible to make a list describing the qualities of anything: what
defines prodigy, what makes comedy funny, or why humans are drawn to
making music. Perhaps it is part of the human condition to try to
define what is essentially undefinable. Sometimes we want to think it
through and establish a concrete process.
Sometimes we want to absorb the beauty of it and enjoy it for what it is.
We have a friend staying with us this week. He was the Best Man at our wedding. He is one of M.'s godparents, so she has known him all her life. His trip is not for pleasure; he is here to sit at the bedside of a dying friend and to support his family.
But from the moment Chris came through our door, something unexpected
happened. Margo lit up. She let down her guard, smiled, laughed. She
joined in the silly wordplay and general fooling around. I can't begin
to explain the joy her dad and I felt in seeing her relaxed and enjoying
herself. We hadn't been entirely sure that she still had it in her.
Chris is living out the tragedy, day by day, of watching a friend in his
forties slip away from this life. We are mourning the senseless loss of
the "blogger godfather" who seemed to effortlessly hold many worlds
together. M. Is carrying the sadness and anger of being in middle school
and not fitting in. You would think this would be a recipe for gloom or
at least malaise.
But something inexplicable happened in the connection. We provided a
place for Chris to be at a difficult time. He brought the ability to
find joy in seeing old friends. M. brought her essential self without
inhibition. And then there was magic.
"Well something's lost, but something's gained in living every day..."
You can make a list and analyze. You can celebrate joyful mysteries. It
doesn't matter how you look at it. There are times that our small
connections create a greater whole than the sum of the parts would
Hope steals into our hearts, blending something lost into something gained.