Social scientist David Allyn recently published a book about embarrassment: I Can’t Believe I Just Did That: How (Seemingly) Small Moments of Shame and Embarrassment Can Wreak Havoc in Your Life-And What You Can Do to Put a Stop to Them.

The New York Times featured Dr. Allyn’s work:

In a culture overpopulated with attention grabbers, midriff barers and superficial self-help gurus, what does Mr. Allyn have to offer? For one thing, he is a wicked observer of self-conscious people at their less than best. For another, his suggestions are meant to encourage both civic mindednesss and fun.

His credo? “There is too much caution in the world.”

So what does he think you should do at a movie theater where a bunch of unruly teenagers are ruining everyone’s viewing experience? “Call them on it. Tell them to knock it off or they’re out of there,” he said. And if you see someone who looks interesting and bored on a bus? Take a chance of being rejected and say hello. This tactic led to the production of a play he wrote and a teaching position at Princeton.

Now a visiting scholar at Columbia, Mr. Allyn, 34, would like to see more strangers communing with one another. At gyms, single people look as if they are at work, when they could be flirting. In Laundromats, they could be networking. At bars, they stare into space.

“People are managing their images all the time,” he said as he sat down for dinner at Matsuri, the cool new Japanese restaurant in Chelsea’s Maritime Hotel. “They’re scared of making fools of themselves. I would rather you say something stupid than be too cautious. I’m all for embracing embarrassment.”

He’s made an excellent point. I remember a time of my life when I was much more curious and receptive to people in general. I would comfortably strike up a conversation with someone on the bus. I smiled at people, made eye contact in the grocery story checkout line. If I was in a clothing store alone, I might ask another woman what she thought of a particular outfit I was trying on. If I was rebuffed, I didn’t take it personally. I don’t have a clear memory of anyone responding poorly to my friendly overture; it seems logical to conclude that this was a generally successful experience.

Somewhere along the way, I closed up. What causes this? Is it the pace of life, and the tendency to become entangled in the next task or a future worry? Is it respect for personal space and privacy gone too far? In the early 1980s I recall being fascinated with a woman on the bus who, every morning on her way to work, was ensconced with a Walkman. They were new and fairly expensive back then. I recall yearning to have portable music, and eventually I did buy one. While it was handy, it added another layer of disconnect in human relations. The walkman is ubiquitous now, and I think it’s to our detriment (along with cellphones and other gadgets intended to increase personal autonomy and connection but which, by their very technicality, complicate and obscure it).

Every day is a new opportunity to throw caution to the wind and engage our world. The process of becoming fully present is rooted in our willingness to connect.