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24/52 - Warmth
Jun. 15th, 2020 01:51 pmIncredibly it really is, undeniably, June. And that means I'm up to the sixth letter of my prompt word of housewarming. Today I'm going for....
Warmth
I think of warmth - or rather use that term most often - in terms of emotional and social warmth. It's something I reflected on way back in January with my first prompt letter, and it's something I proactively look to give and cherish in return.
Warmth happens in lots of ways.
Consideration, is perhaps first. What is the small act I can undertake today to let someone feel the warmth of my regard for them? I arranged for friends in Brighton to drop off a care package of small items (which are unorderable via the internet) at the house of another friend on my behalf. That's one way to extend warmth, it flows through other people and enlivens everyone in the chain.
Articulations of warmth are easily second in importance, but I find them more challenging. After listening to me lament that I didn't know how someone felt about me, a friend posed a simple question; have you told them what you like about them? And I realised that while I felt I had shown through consideration how I felt about them, I hadn't actually labelled it. It's hard to halt conversation and say "hey you! you're great. I like these things about you; [list]". I am enjoying doing it - telling people exactly how highly I regard them and how warm I feel about it. I have also written such expressions down for another couple of people as part of my coronavirus letter-writing campaign which is easier and harder than doing it verbally: letters feel like they might be more unwelcome or sound stale? But they do have the advantage of not halting a conversation.It still makes me curl up and want to disappear when people do it to me. Funny that it's possible to shun that warmth when it's offered, even though I long for it.
Affection is going to be my third. It's a thing I find difficult to give but easier to receive in certain forms. Large demonstrations of affection in it's most normative/readily understood forms - hugging everyone in sight, being tactile with people as routine, public declaraitions of affection - are never going to be me. But careful, precise, personalised affection? That: I can give and receive freely. An arm slipped around the waist of a lover, a squeeze of a leg, snuggling under a blanket with a nibling to read a book together, playfully punching a friend on the arm for the sustained and affectionate ribbing they just gave you, a naming that calls you into being in a different way than the words other people use for you, a tone of voice and softness you only offer to or receive from certain people. These are the things that stoke a fire.
Which brings me to...vulnerability. Perhaps the essence of warmth, and underpining all the things I've tried to label. It's also I think why warmth is something I have to practice. I hate being vulnerable (I mean, who doesn't). Vulnerability comes from letting people in: allowing people to learn that there are types of physical affection I enjoy and allowing myself to reach out, finding how to respond to articulations of warmth which necessarily includes acknowledgement I need something from someone, confronting the fear of rejection or terror of being thought inappropriate for articulating warmth, fear of exposing the fact I can't easily respond to such declarations, and talking myself into being confident enough to interrupt 'life' in favour of acts of consideration.
Experiencing warmth is therefore sometimes dizzying in the trust it requires. And expressing warmth, showing warmth, spreading warmth, requires me to drop some part of my defences or revise the version of myself I've presented so often. Which isn't to say friends are suddenly shocked at me telling them I like them - only that I am trying to broaden the ways in which I communicate that.
This was all precipitated near the beginning of lockdown when a friend told me he admired the way I was able to build community and the strength of care he had experienced from me. I was really taken aback by it as I had felt that he regarded me as more of an acquaintance, even though I had had a deep sense of care - and warmth - towards him which I'd tried to offer in little pieces. It made me realise it was possible to acknowledge how valuable the warmth of someone's offered friendship is, and to cement a relationship by doing so. And it made me feel that I had something to offer to people in my sometimes idiosyncratic expressions of care, affection, and love.
So warmth is what I am cherishing, and investing in. And it's hard sometimes because it feels like exposing myself. But it does create a glow you can keep being warmed by when you manage it; it reflects back and makes the next expression easier.
Warmth
I think of warmth - or rather use that term most often - in terms of emotional and social warmth. It's something I reflected on way back in January with my first prompt letter, and it's something I proactively look to give and cherish in return.
Warmth happens in lots of ways.
Consideration, is perhaps first. What is the small act I can undertake today to let someone feel the warmth of my regard for them? I arranged for friends in Brighton to drop off a care package of small items (which are unorderable via the internet) at the house of another friend on my behalf. That's one way to extend warmth, it flows through other people and enlivens everyone in the chain.
Articulations of warmth are easily second in importance, but I find them more challenging. After listening to me lament that I didn't know how someone felt about me, a friend posed a simple question; have you told them what you like about them? And I realised that while I felt I had shown through consideration how I felt about them, I hadn't actually labelled it. It's hard to halt conversation and say "hey you! you're great. I like these things about you; [list]". I am enjoying doing it - telling people exactly how highly I regard them and how warm I feel about it. I have also written such expressions down for another couple of people as part of my coronavirus letter-writing campaign which is easier and harder than doing it verbally: letters feel like they might be more unwelcome or sound stale? But they do have the advantage of not halting a conversation.It still makes me curl up and want to disappear when people do it to me. Funny that it's possible to shun that warmth when it's offered, even though I long for it.
Affection is going to be my third. It's a thing I find difficult to give but easier to receive in certain forms. Large demonstrations of affection in it's most normative/readily understood forms - hugging everyone in sight, being tactile with people as routine, public declaraitions of affection - are never going to be me. But careful, precise, personalised affection? That: I can give and receive freely. An arm slipped around the waist of a lover, a squeeze of a leg, snuggling under a blanket with a nibling to read a book together, playfully punching a friend on the arm for the sustained and affectionate ribbing they just gave you, a naming that calls you into being in a different way than the words other people use for you, a tone of voice and softness you only offer to or receive from certain people. These are the things that stoke a fire.
Which brings me to...vulnerability. Perhaps the essence of warmth, and underpining all the things I've tried to label. It's also I think why warmth is something I have to practice. I hate being vulnerable (I mean, who doesn't). Vulnerability comes from letting people in: allowing people to learn that there are types of physical affection I enjoy and allowing myself to reach out, finding how to respond to articulations of warmth which necessarily includes acknowledgement I need something from someone, confronting the fear of rejection or terror of being thought inappropriate for articulating warmth, fear of exposing the fact I can't easily respond to such declarations, and talking myself into being confident enough to interrupt 'life' in favour of acts of consideration.
Experiencing warmth is therefore sometimes dizzying in the trust it requires. And expressing warmth, showing warmth, spreading warmth, requires me to drop some part of my defences or revise the version of myself I've presented so often. Which isn't to say friends are suddenly shocked at me telling them I like them - only that I am trying to broaden the ways in which I communicate that.
This was all precipitated near the beginning of lockdown when a friend told me he admired the way I was able to build community and the strength of care he had experienced from me. I was really taken aback by it as I had felt that he regarded me as more of an acquaintance, even though I had had a deep sense of care - and warmth - towards him which I'd tried to offer in little pieces. It made me realise it was possible to acknowledge how valuable the warmth of someone's offered friendship is, and to cement a relationship by doing so. And it made me feel that I had something to offer to people in my sometimes idiosyncratic expressions of care, affection, and love.
So warmth is what I am cherishing, and investing in. And it's hard sometimes because it feels like exposing myself. But it does create a glow you can keep being warmed by when you manage it; it reflects back and makes the next expression easier.
