The Art of Meddling
Every so often, I catch myself doing something that probably lands somewhere between helpful and intrusive: jumping into a conversation I wasn’t actually invited into.
It might be on line at a café, someone struggling to remember the name of a band, or two people talking about a project that overlaps with something I know well. I’ll hover for a second, decide the moment’s open enough, and chime in. Sometimes it’s welcomed and becomes a quick exchange that sparks a laugh, a recommendation, even a connection. Other times, it’s met with that polite half-smile that says, thanks, stranger, but we were fine without you.
The way I figure it, worst case, someone thinks I’m pretentious or rude. Best case, my meddling ends up being useful or meaningful in some way, and that moment becomes something else.
It’s not really about wanting to insert myself into people’s lives so much as being about curiosity and connection. How easily a thread can appear between two people who didn’t know each other a minute ago. Most of the time, we’re all walking around sealed off in our own little bubbles, afraid to say something that might break the silence. But that silence is where most opportunities die.
So yes, I meddle. I interrupt sometimes. I offer unsolicited advice or a stray comment that might not land. But I’d rather risk the awkwardness of being misunderstood than the regret of staying silent when something in me felt compelled to engage.
Because if connection is the goal, if it’s the thread that keeps the world from unraveling, then maybe a little bit of well-intentioned meddling is a form of showing up.