what comes after hello

inquiryafter helloan exploration into community in all its forms

1. what comes after hello
2. bumble for basketball
3. still exploring…

later: bumble for basketball →next →

The chatter in the room suddenly rises. People start getting out of their seats. Some grab another drink or biscuit, others delve into conversation about the topics the speakers have just covered.

As for me, I sit still. Not quite sure what to do with myself. Not sure where to turn. There are people blocking every path.

The host said now is the time to make connections. Mingle, discuss, share. She all but mandated it. Usually, I am good at following instructions. But I’m stuck.

I check every mental drawer for a social script, but it’s no use. I know the first step is to say “hello”. The problem is, I have nothing to follow it with.

A few days later, I’m in church. The host invites us to say hello to someone we haven’t spoken to before. That shouldn’t be hard. There is no one I properly recognise in my general vicinity. But there is also no one actually sitting next to me. In order to complete this task, I will have to leave my seat.

It doesn’t help that my ears seem to be tracking every noise in the room. Somewhere behind me, a pencil is scratching against paper. The ‘tism is not letting me know peace. I once again find myself searching for those scripts, to no avail. The discomfort has me craving the solace of the four walls of my house.

A while back, I settled on a personal mission statement:

To help people build meaningful connections and community in a world that is feeling increasingly divided.

There’s a funny irony in that, given there are days I struggle to get past “hello”. How am I meant to help build community when crowded rooms have me crafting escape plans?

I know the four walls of my house aren’t where fulfilment lies. So I stay.

In staying, I give people at the summit the opportunity to make the first move and approach me. As they speak, my brain remembers how to follow. With my muscle memory renewed, I even manage to start a conversation myself.

In staying, I learn the names of a few members of the congregation and hear about their weeks.

In staying, I am also subjected to overstimulation and discomfort. My senses are still heightened, pencils keep scratching, but eventually, it ends.

Staying stretches me and costs me, all at once. I guess discernment is knowing when the stretch is worth the cost.