On Not Being A Remote Cabin by Rick Baldwin

This week, I’m staying in a secluded cabin in north Georgia while working on an art project for a client. The isolation is nice because I don’t have to interact with people much, except when I need supplies or work on the project itself. Yet, I’ve always felt a bit uneasy about engaging with locals in places I’m visiting. It often feels like I’m intruding—like stepping into someone’s home where neither of us knows anything about the other, but we’re suddenly expected to connect. It’s a mental habit I’ve carried for years, though I’m not entirely sure where it comes from. It lingers whenever I’m in unfamiliar territory.

Yesterday, while at the grocery store, I gained some insight into this discomfort. As I saw people around me, I felt an underlying resistance. I realized it stemmed from the imagined need to justify my presence. What if someone asked who I am, where I’m from, or why I’m here? Not in a hostile way—just out of curiosity. The thought of crafting answers, of being interesting or charming, triggered anxiety. I worried about saying the wrong thing or being judged.

At the same time, I noticed resistance to initiating any conversation myself. “This is their town,” I thought. “What right do I have to strike up a conversation?” I observed other shoppers, and they seemed just as disconnected—focused on their lists, avoiding eye contact. It was as if we were all living in our own metaphorical cabins, even in a shared space.

I’ve always enjoyed solitude, and social interaction isn’t my strong suit. But I began to realize how powerful something as simple as eye contact, a smile, or a kind word can be for those feeling disconnected. You don’t have to take on the persona of an overly cheerful, overly familiar stranger (no offense to those who do), but genuine interaction creates a subtle opening. That openness allows fear, resistance, or judgment to dissolve and invites a shared silence—a sacred connection.

Our society often encourages us to cut ties with those who differ from us, but this insight reminded me of the value of engaging with others, no matter how different they may seem. Approaching interactions with openness and non-judgment is a form of healing, not just for others but for ourselves. For someone like me, who finds social situations challenging, this practice can be deeply transformative. It’s a way to connect to something greater than ourselves.

Listening, I realized, is the physical manifestation of openness. When we listen without judgment, we connect beyond appearances to the essence of another person. We create a space for silence and understanding, recognizing our shared humanity. It doesn’t matter whether we agree with what someone says or approve of their behavior; the act of listening itself is a powerful spiritual practice.

This isn’t groundbreaking for everyone—many people do this naturally—but for those of us who struggle socially, it offers a fresh perspective. After that moment of clarity, I noticed my resistance fading. I found myself wanting to engage with others just to listen, even seeking out spaces where I might encounter people with vastly different perspectives.

I’ve decided to incorporate this awareness into my interactions moving forward. What about you? Does this practice resonate with you? Could it change how you relate to others? How might it transform the world if more people embraced it?