“Our
paradoxical longing for intimacy and independence is a diamagnetic force — it
pulls us toward togetherness and simultaneously repels us from it with a mighty
magnet that, if unskillfully handled, can rupture a relationship and break a
heart. Under this unforgiving magnetism, it becomes an act of superhuman
strength and self-transcendence to give space to the other when all one wants
is closeness. And yet this difficult act may be the very thing — perhaps the only
thing — that saves the relationship over and over.” (Maria Popova,
brainpickings.org)
We live in a world filled with paradox, but seldom like
it. We prefer the world, and especially other people, to be defined by simplistic
“either/or” conditions, when reality constantly challenges us with “both/and.” One
example is that any healthy relationship, romantic, familial or friendship,
demands paradox---intimacy and independence. Each relationship has
different needs for these characteristics, creating the dynamics for a
beautiful connection or an unpleasant one.
The dynamic nature of this paradox means we are
constantly balancing conflicting needs, both within ourselves, and in relation
to the other person. A balancing act rigidly fixed is anathema to fine
relationships. Frequent adjustments are necessary as the relationship matures,
although the need for those gradually declines, assuming two people with
goodwill and courage.
Popova refers to offering space, the most obvious of
which is physical. Literal separation and solitude are sometimes necessary, but
not always. My wife and I work in the same twelve-by-twelve office for hours without
interacting. Close in proximity, but separate and independent nonetheless. Importantly,
space can be seen more broadly than physical. Mental space and emotional space
are less obvious, but possibly more important than physical separation.
Can I give myself the mental space to entertain an
objective stance on an issue about which I feel strongly? Can I give a friend the
mental and emotional space to see an issue differently than I do, without
punishing him? Can I offer emotional space when my partner accuses me of
inattentiveness to her needs? Engaging constructively in the face of such an
accusation, really in the face of any difficult news, is difficult enough under
normal circumstances. But it is very much worse when our emotional state is
chock full of unrecognized needs abiding far below our surface consciousness,
but which are visited upon others when we are under stress. In spite of such
personal challenges, which we all have, successful relationships still require
that we offer space and safety.
I know people who at times (or chronically) cannot give
space of any kind, even to a loved one. They are into their own self-centered needs
to such a singular degree that those must prevail. For many people I
have known, myself included, the real but deniable goal in such interactions is
to limit safe space for the other, preferably to zero, so the desired outcome
of winning, or getting one’s way, is achieved. Even relationships decades old
can suffer terribly from this unaware self-focused acting out.
Managing the oppositional pull of independence and intimacy
requires self-awareness, self-discipline, and respect for the wellbeing and
unique needs of both ourselves and the other person. It demands a sensitivity
difficult to cultivate, accustomed as we are to shoe-horning things into an
“either/or” box in an often desperate bid to get our own way.
There is little better for a relationship than to have respectful
on-going conversations about relative needs for space. Only through this open
and fearless exchange can a relationship reach pinnacles of intimacy and
closeness.
As
Rilke said, “I hold this to
be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard
over the solitude of the other.”
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