Strangers on planes

Yesterday I was flying from St. Louis to Atlanta.
The man I was sitting next to looked very familiar to me for some reason, but I had never met him before in my life. He was an older man, probably in his mid-forties or early fifties, and I later learned that his name was Chuck.
Me and Chuck hit it off immediately, and talked non-stop for the entire two-hour flight.
We talked about my career aspirations, Eckhart Tolle, political affiliations, homophobia, high school experiences... you name it. We talked about the lessons we had learned and were learning in life, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I told him why I didn't.
While I was going over some painful recollections I never once thought, "This dude is a complete stranger." I felt entirely comfortable, and from the best I could tell so did he.
He shared his stories about past loves and loves lost, how he met his current wife, and everything in between. I did the same, still not even realizing that I was probably revealing far too much about myself to a complete stranger on a plane.
But I realize something now. Without sharing who I am and the places I've been with other people, whether they are strangers or not, I would learn very little about who I am. I would learn nothing about others, either. I would learn nothing about the positive aspects of being alive. Love is not simply something that is shared between two people, it's all around us. My openness with Chuck was me loving myself, putting myself out there as 100% me and not regretting a word. He could have judged me like many others have, but would his judgment have mattered?
I believe now (and have always believed, but this conversation just reinforced it) that being vulnerable is an attribute of the strong. What could be more brave than putting yourself out there, being completely honest and open about life, even when there is no reason to trust the person you're talking to? Being closed off rarely solves anything.
Being closed off rarely solves anything. I smiled as I wrote that sentence... what can denying myself pleasure or love or attraction because of something someone else did possibly solve? I understand now, through talking to Chuck and having conversations with my notebook, that I have been afraid to be vulnerable. I have no problem sharing parts of my life with people I know and people who I don't, but currently the idea of sharing my heart with someone makes me close up completely. That's something I'm going to have to get past, in time.
When I was done with my story (the long and overly-dramatic tale about the past five months and the lessons I've learned), he pulled his business card out of his wallet and said, "You obviously need some type of closure. Call me when you've called her."
I laughed and asked him if he thought he would still remember me in twenty years.
My life is a paradox.