Up until I was about 30 years old, I had felt uncomfortable around shy, introverted or withdrawn people and usually avoided contact with them. Consciously, I think I avoided them because I assumed they probably had little to offer and it would not be worth the effort of engaging with them. Subconsciously, I think I avoided them because they reminded me that when I was younger I had inwardly felt very shy and also assumed I had little to offer – even though my behaviour was outgoing and disguised these internal feelings.
This way of seeing shy or quiet, introverted people changed quite suddenly and dramatically when I met a man named Jim at a social function. The function’s host, who saw Jim standing alone staring at the floor with a drink in his hand, introduced me to him hoping I would draw him out. As I had expected, I found the attempt to initiate conversation with Jim very difficult. After struggling with this for about ten minutes, I suddenly remembered that the host had said something about Jim having an interest in philosophy. Since my graduate and undergraduate studies had been in philosophy, I thought this subject might provide an opening and I began to describe a book I was reading on existential philosophy.
I had only been speaking for a few minutes, when during a brief pause, Jim suddenly began to speak. He in fact launched into a brilliant – although quiet and halting – monologue about existential philosophy. The suddenness of his response and the depth and clarity of his thinking left me absolutely astonished. For the next hour he did almost all of the talking, speaking about other subjects with the same depth, clarity and brilliance. As the function ended, I told Jim I had really enjoyed the conversation and said I would like to continue it later.