It is icy in London. I stand on a platform waiting for
a train. An shaft of this Siberian wind razors across your face.
"Cut your legs off wouldn't it?" exclaims a sympathetic
co traveller standing beside me.
"Yes, yes...indeed," I mutter in that restrained Brit' way.
"Apparently it comes from Siberia."
"Right"
"This wind...it has come over from Russia."
"Oh right, right..."
"I was in Russia once..." I hear myself say.
"Were you?"
"Yeah, the coldest I ever experienced...."
"Worse than this, was it?"
"A lot worse...I remember we were standing in this
cemetry outside Moscow and..."
So I went on and on...talking to this fellow traveller
with a freedom that is quite unlike my more normal
buttoned up personality.
Afterwards, when we had parted at Clapham Junction,
I reflected, I really shouldn't have said that to that person
he was a complete stranger.
Why did I tell him that. For goodness sake, why don't you
bite your lip a bit more. Garrolous git... and I went on
with this kind of self-laceration.
But why do we do this, talk so freely to strangers?
Why are we so forthcoming on planes and trains
telling details of one's life to complete strangers.
David Eagleman, Icognito, points out that there is an
ancient need to tell secrets to strangers. Venting secrets
to strangers (think of why the confessional is such a mainstay of the Catholic religion)
is usually done for its own sake, not as an invitation
for advice, because when you do vent your secrets to strangers
all you want to do is tell.
Perhaps the act of just telling a secret, is in itself,
the solution.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Peter%20Cheevers
a train. An shaft of this Siberian wind razors across your face.
"Cut your legs off wouldn't it?" exclaims a sympathetic
co traveller standing beside me.
"Yes, yes...indeed," I mutter in that restrained Brit' way.
"Apparently it comes from Siberia."
"Right"
"This wind...it has come over from Russia."
"Oh right, right..."
"I was in Russia once..." I hear myself say.
"Were you?"
"Yeah, the coldest I ever experienced...."
"Worse than this, was it?"
"A lot worse...I remember we were standing in this
cemetry outside Moscow and..."
So I went on and on...talking to this fellow traveller
with a freedom that is quite unlike my more normal
buttoned up personality.
Afterwards, when we had parted at Clapham Junction,
I reflected, I really shouldn't have said that to that person
he was a complete stranger.
Why did I tell him that. For goodness sake, why don't you
bite your lip a bit more. Garrolous git... and I went on
with this kind of self-laceration.
But why do we do this, talk so freely to strangers?
Why are we so forthcoming on planes and trains
telling details of one's life to complete strangers.
David Eagleman, Icognito, points out that there is an
ancient need to tell secrets to strangers. Venting secrets
to strangers (think of why the confessional is such a mainstay of the Catholic religion)
is usually done for its own sake, not as an invitation
for advice, because when you do vent your secrets to strangers
all you want to do is tell.
Perhaps the act of just telling a secret, is in itself,
the solution.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s?_encoding=UTF8&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Peter%20Cheevers
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