(An Echoing and Empty) Breathing Room
I am ceaselessly fascinated by human relationships, no matter their duration (seconds long to decades in length), by the interplay between where one individual's boundaries start and stop, and another's begins.I never claim to understand the dynamics of what pulls us to one person and pushes us away from another. It is ephemeral, this fundamental, flashpoint attraction. (The things that repulse are a little more concrete). That instant of notice, of appreciation, evaporates like smoke the majority of the time; it's why we only stay connected to a handful of the people we meet every day. Some vocal quality, some nervous habit, some vibe to the way a person walks, and most switch the perception meter from "interesting" to "invisible" for that now-no-longer-notable soul.What makes the switch flip is as unique to a person as fingerprints. It seems one of the many miracles (and tragedies) of human interaction.For those whom we continue to find "interesting," it's an always-in-motion ladder of interaction. We drift closer then bump apart. Singular qualities seem to bind us in a fundamental, basic way, but it is also the greater whole as well, that pushes us forward and back. (I can think of lots of people who appear to have all the hallmarks of Atttractive to Me, but for whatever reasons, we never connect.)The Buddhist beliefs posit "no self," that all of life is connected. I am uncomfortable with this notion, especially when I'm sitting next to loud, obnoxious individuals on the train, folks who boorishly take up more than their fair share of space, both on the seat and in the greater area due to the level of noise they generate. I do NOT want to be connected to THOSE PEOPLE. But connection rarely bothers me when I'm in my group of familiars, my Circle, when I'm participating in the group dynamics and constructs that I have created to make my life: friends, work, family, etc. Such moments make me feel like I am in the right spot of my little web.I see this proximity best, this oh-so-tight weaving together of lives and emotions and the touching of boundaries, when groups of friends interact. Whether it's a group I belong to, or I am just watching other tightly-knit groups, the way expectations and attractions and understanding (or lack thereof) bump into each other and drive reactions ... it's better than anything on television. When I appraise my own web of people, I challenge myself to question and evaluate my own position in the larger web. What do I bring to the group? What drives me out of the group? I find out more about myself when I'm with others than I do when I am by myself.It is reasonable to say that humans can only make sense of the greater purpose of their lives and interactions with others when we have breathing room, when we step back and are apart and separate, to create the clarity of quiet minds and bodies. It's this intention that informs the yogic practice, of being quiet and present in mind, so the subconscious, the unconscious, can speak. It also is part of the admonishment to prayer in most organized religions.But I find that breathing space for me often creates more questions than it allows answers. This frustrating lack of progress, with no resolution and no insight, with my "Why, why, why" soundtrack playing constantly in the background ... it makes breathing room sometimes a Herculean challange for me. I find I don't enjoy being locked away alone in the echo chamber that is my mind.