When Needs Conflict
I’m reading a non-fiction book by Elizabeth Letts, The Ride of Her Life: The True Story of a Woman, Her Horse, and Their Last-Chance Journey Across America. It tells of a cross-country journey that a woman named Annie Wilkins made in 1954 on horseback with her beloved dog Depeche Toi beside her. Wilkins had barely any money and was largely dependent on the kindness of strangers as she traveled. I loved Letts’ explanation that Wilkins felt kinship with so many people by comparing them to her Stuart/Libby family members.
“She saw the Stuart in a stranger’s clear blue eyes, the Libby in someone’s adventuresome spirit. Everyone she encountered might be a distant cousin. She felt that her people were everywhere, and because of that she couldn’t fully be a stranger.”
I relate to this sentiment not because I feel an almost literal kinship with everyone I meet but because it’s rare for me to meet a person with whom I cannot find common ground. Therefore, I see all strangers as potential friends. I have often considered how lucky I am to be able to have this viewpoint. It’s the result of years and years of positive experiences, the serendipity of magical encounters. I have been blessed to mostly win big by opening myself up to such experiences.
For example, I was sent on a work trip to Providence, Rhode Island, to train a company on the use of our software. On a break one of the clients, I’ll call him Jay, asked me if I had ever been to Providence. When I replied that I hadn’t, he started sharing his love of his city, suggesting a half dozen ways I might spend my evening. He sold me on an upscale foodie restaurant that serves a set menu of several courses, even though this is not usually my scene. I’m a dive bar and diner, burgers and fries sort of girl. Jay offered to accompany me to the restaurant. I was thrilled that he was willing to give up his evening plans to hang out with a stranger. We had the best low-key evening. The conversation flowed and the meal may have been the most delicious food my taste buds have ever met. We parted ways at the restaurant, and I never spoke to Jay again, but his friendly treatment (and the unforgettable meal) have given me strongly positive feelings toward the entire state of Rhode Island. However, if Jay was a different type of person, that night could have ended in an unpleasant way. If my evening in Providence or any other of my many positive experiences had instead ended badly, I would be singing a very different tune.
Letts discusses how Wilkins made her journey in a changing landscape. After World War II, the US was feeling a little done with the rest of the world. The 1950’s saw a rising tide of xenophobia, especially after an influx of immigrants from war-torn and Communist countries. This was highlighted both by the McCarran-Walter Act, passed by Congress in 1952 and limiting immigration by national origin, and by the fear-mongering of Senator Joseph McCarthy. As Letts says,
[McCarthy exhorted the public:] 'Be vigilant day and night.' Being vigilant was generally the opposite of being neighborly. In a world of connection, bonds of friendship and kinship made every stranger a potential acquaintance. The world of vigilance suggested the opposite: every stranger might bring danger."
Wilkins bore the result of this fear. Often times she’d knock on doors, and residents would refuse to come to the door, or if they did, they did not care to offer her any help. These people, as many of us do, were prioritizing their safety needs over their social needs. However, Wilkins was fortunate enough to be able to still lean on many who continued to prioritize their social needs and opened their homes to her despite not knowing her.
This is one example of our needs being in conflict. When it happens, all we can do is use both what we know and what we feel to navigate between our competing self-interests. I also happen to believe that there is often a way to compromise when two needs are in conflict. Returning to the example of my night in Providence, I wasn’t oblivious to my vulnerability and remained alert throughout the evening. If I had picked up on any signals that Jay had an ulterior motive, I would have acted on instinct and extracted myself from the situation. While I was prioritizing my social needs, I kept my safety needs in mind. For some of Wilkins’ hosts, they chose to prioritize their safety needs but still extend a helping hand (social) by giving her permission to sleep in their barn or fields instead of inviting her into their home.
Do you tend to prioritize your social needs or your safety needs? Have you had a recent experience where you wished you had chosen your priorities differently? Was there a way to compromise and more-or-less meet both needs at once? I’d love to hear about it.