I have a friend named Polly.
She is actually a friend of a friend and someone I see at the readings of literary writers passing through Vegas. But I like to think of her as a friend. She makes me feel that way.
One day, I was at a university cocktail reception and we started talking. It was a wonderful conversation. We talked about books, writing mostly. What struck me about talking to Polly is how seen I felt, how intently she listened to me and what I was saying, how thoughtful her responses were - because she was listening - how she never scanned the room, distracted by this famous writer or that well-known arts administrator, and how I felt like the center of the room being around her.
In this crowded institution of small talk and people going on about themselves, trying to be memorable, or not be embarrassing, or to just getting through it, Polly stands out to me as someone who intentionally and thoughtfully listens and responds. She made me feel important. Someone worthy of being listened to.
Since that interaction, I have attempted to be that kind of person for other people in the room and in my life. But, you know, this is not a success only journey. Ha! It doesn’t come naturally to me. I can be an interruptor. My thoughts spill out, unruly and un-retractable. I forget myself and try to impress when I should listen. I’m used to talking to other humans while keeping one eye on the kids, so I need to get back to solid eye contact again. I am struggling with small talk these days and a conversation at a gathering can sometimes make me feel distracted and antsy, and I’m sure it shows.
So, I’m trying to be intentional:
Be Polly when you go to this cocktail party.
Be Polly when you meet with these students.
Be Polly when you are talking to someone over the melons in the grocery store.
And this was on my mind when my friend, Lyn, sent me a link to an article in The Atlantic. It’s called: The Type of Charisma that Saves a Holiday Party. It’s a short piece that describes a kind of person who offers “warmth, emotional intelligence, and social generosity at a time when going out and meeting people isn’t what it used to be.”
This person is called - quite brilliantly by writer, Adrienne Matei - a Vibe Pope.
Polly is a Vibe Pope.
The premise of the essay is obvious: we aren’t the same since the pandemic. Living in isolation has changed us. We are living our lives differently. We are less likely to want to be out in crowds, make small talk. We are going to bed earlier, taking more time alone or in small intimate groups. The research bears this out. Pew Research Center polls from May of last year tell us that socializing is becoming less of a need for people, for a whopping 35% of those surveyed. And The Atlantic piece tells us that the people we are turning to are those who carry a special kind of usefulness right now.
The Vibe Popes are people who “are the guardians of the party’s communal energy. Their charisma is mature and thoughtful, not narcissistic. They can subtly refine and recalibrate social dynamics by introducing strangers, tweaking the lights, or suggesting the next activity—all without stealing focus from the moment itself.”
The article goes on to characterize Vibe Popes as people who are listeners, observers, open to uncomfortable silences and able to fill-in voids. They facilitate, but in a way that feels seamless and natural, making people feel at ease, cared for, welcomed.
And even though Vibe Popes play an integral role at a group event, they don’t suck up the air in the room. They aren’t about themselves, but about fostering a group experience. They create an environment where other people have some spotlight. They are subtle, like social ninjas, working without people noticing, maybe without even noticing themselves.
But the article is clear that Vibe Papacy is emotional work in the same way that your “mom making Christmas feel magical” is emotional and physical work. Or the way Polly made me feel at the cocktail party. Vibe Popes are setting the tones required to gather. They are saving the party, the gathering. They are allowing us to enjoy being together again.
Of course, there is a price.
“When we don’t think about the labor behind building community,” Matei writes, “both practical and spiritual, it can become a quiet burden to whomever bears it. Hosting is a form of labor. So is vibe papacy.”
And still we need them this season. And maybe every season.
So, if you are a Vibe Pope for your family and friends, remember self-care and filling up your own coffers over the next week. If you see a Vibe Pope doing their thing at the Christmas table, give them some extra pie, a special cocktail, a good deep conversation in the bedroom with the door closed, or send them home early, to rest up for New Years.
In the text that Lyn sent me with the The Atlantic piece, she wrote:
You are a vibe pope and still an introvert ! Xxx
I’m a Vibe Pope in training. Definitely a Polly-in-progress.
__________________
END NOTES:
I won’t be posting a recipe on Sunday. Christmas Eve and all. We will all be Vibe Pope-in’. I’ll be back next week. I hope you have the best holiday you can, and if it’s challenging, I wish you all the love and resilience and peace you need to get through to the other side. I’ll see you there!
Let’s do this.
Kim xo
I have no idea why this made me tear up but it did. Hit a cord. I try to be that person. I love your writing so much. You often say stuff I don’t know how to articulate just feel. You put it into words so beautifully.
Finally, a female Pope! Polly sounds very much like Kat Kinsman to me and this essay is an excellent reminder to be more like the both of them. Thank you.