What happens in unmasked community spaces? What does it feel like?

Recently I met with members of a Relational Unmasking group that had completed the original six-week group series, and has self organized to meet monthly for ongoing connection.

We were in a cozy space, and a big jar of fantastic rocks got passed around. I chose a pair of rocks to hold that were in a personal category I call Important Rocks. These were very dark black, extra heavy and shiny smooth rocks that gave me sensory delight. During the group, I found myself flipping the two rocks over and over each other on a soft blanket, with happy sensory satisfaction.

At some point during the group, I realized that as we talked, I wasn’t alone in my rock-induced pleasure. Most of us were having Important Rock experiences. This wasn’t a private and separate experience—it was central to the way we hang out in unmasked community. I smiled and pointed this out aloud, and we agreed as a group about the sensory importance of rocks. I wasn’t the only person in that group who has sent an entire suitcase home filled with rocks (and had to buy a duffel bag to get the less important clothing home somehow).

I was with my people! My people, who are as weird about rocks as I am. There is even a communication phenomenon in autistic community called penguin pebbling. This is when autistic people give gifts of found objects such as a pebble as a way of signaling care, just like penguins do. It’s a neurodivergent way of connecting, and a way of saying “I had a sensory experience with this object and I thought of you.”

In this space, an intentionally unmasked space, I felt myself relax several notches, into ways of being myself in public I hadn’t even realized I hadn’t previously allowed. And in place of the tension, I felt myself fill up with bubbles of something else: joy.