Molting is the shedding of “skin, feathers, or a shell to make way for new growth”. We move through our lives in a pulsing progression, development or even reinvention of ourselves. Sometimes, molting for us is just a trial run as we search for something that resonates with what we feel is our authentic selves. For we humans, molting is not a seasonal thing – it has a pace all its own. And breadth, sometimes pushing the edges of what we know to be comfortable. Sometimes it’s stagnant. Not molting can be stifling or even suffocating. Figuring out what to keep and what to shed in this process is work for we alone to do.
This molting process must include an honest review of our involvement in those communities to which we belong, the communities that help define us. Moving on is a very natural part of humanness. Sometimes that means leaving communities behind, which can be hard. Simply, we outgrown them, just like a shell. It doesn’t mean we think we’re better than those in the communities we’ve left, just different. We’ve all experienced people who have moved on but still stay connected to a community out of inertia or some sense of loyalty, or social pressure. ‘Twere better for all, really, if they let go and found a new community. Belonging to these communities is a fundamental human need. In his book, the Happiness Hypothesis, Jonathan Haidt refers to this sense of belonging where you truly feel unity and a common sense of character as ”vital engagement.” This is different than just being surrounded by other human beings. It’s an identification as a member of a group you choose, one to which you devote your energies. Doing so provides quality interactions over time which help identify and support us as full, authentic human beings. These communities are different from but no less important to our overall emotional health than our close ties with families and friends, those closest to us and in whom we confide and with whom we live. Also important are what might be regarded as those trivial interactions we have with near strangers, especially those we see repeatedly in our routines – co-workers, baristas, classmates, therapists, a favorite waiter. Psychologists and sociologists call these sorts of connections “weak ties” or “peripheral ties.” These interactions and the impromptu chats that may result have been shown to boost positive moods and reduce depressed or lonely moods. “Weak ties matter, not just for our moods but our health,” said Dr. Sandstrom, a psychologist who has researched their impact. She observed that those who interacted with more weak ties reported greater happiness, and a greater sense of well-being and belonging, than those with fewer interactions. Further research found that over time, the number of weak ties more strongly predicted well-being than the number of close ties. Dr. Antonucci, another researcher, said that weak ties “provide a low-demand opportunity for interaction that are cognitively stimulating and engaging.” The pandemic suspended many of these everyday exchanges, which made us all realize just how much weak ties matter. We “missed the novelty and the spontaneity,” Dr. Sandstrom said. We generally regard close relationships to be “better” and more “important” to us than casual acquaintances. But we still need these weak ties in our lives. There’s nothing wrong if they don’t develop into close relationships, they don’t have to and we shouldn’t feel pressured to make them so. But sometimes, they do evolve. The conclusion is that there is a pyramid of social interactions that needs to be in balance, like the other pyramids we are familiar with. The levels are: our closest family and friends, the communities we are part of, especially those we choose for ourselves, those in which we engage, and all those myriad interactions with near strangers. Dr. Antonucci encourages us to “make the effort” to expand these interactions – we’ll be happier doing so. |