On Human Interaction

The balance between the self and the other is something that is very difficult to maintain; but in a way that is so instructive in teaching one how to be patient, both with the self and with others, that I can't help but remark on the beauty of this lesson, even as I myself struggle to remind myself of its wisdom and struggle to apply its wisdom to my day-to-day life and the events therein.

When one approaches another, the other moves away. When the first steps back in a mirrored response to the moving away of the other, then the other will step forward. The result is a mutual attempt to either maintain the distance between the two, or to keep the amount of movement toward the center done by either party regulated, so that neither moves closer or further away more quickly than the other. If one moves toward the other a bit too quickly, the other will step back. If one moves toward the other much too quickly, the other will turn and run. In some people, this response is greater than in others. If one steps back a bit in apprehension of the forward-motion of another, the other may step back just a bit as well. If one steps back too far, or just turns and walks away, the other might take it as a breach of trust altogether, and will turn and run as well.

This is a rusty and sloppy version of what I hear is called the "rubber-band theory" by psychologists. My concern isn't really the specifics of the theory, but more my reactions to this phenomenon when I attempt to be objective about it.

If the person distancing himself from me is someone I care about, it's difficult to see the beauty in this little dance or game or whatever it might most aptly be called. However, if I try to step outside of myself and think of a hypothetical situation of this kind, the movements between one individual and another of this kind are somewhat remarkable, in that they create a perfect opportunity for a lesson to be learnt, and a perfect context for this learning to occur, in which there is room for small mistakes, and room for slow learning, and room for fear and hesitation. The context is perfectly designed (bear with me on my word choice here) to ensure that this lesson must eventually be learnt, for one can't enter the context without eventually entering into this game itself, which can only be won by way of learning the routine, and can only be lost by way of being made very aware of the routine - the hard way.

What I find most beautiful about this very natural quality of human interaction is just the fact that, as long as the individual is alive and living, the lesson is being slowly learnt. If the individual has to step away from a situation in order to approach it anew, the individual is learning. If he or she steps forward too far and causes someone to run away as a result, he or she is learning. If an individual chooses to give up on getting to know someone and runs away on his or her own, that individual is opting out but still learning the hard way; and the lesson will be repeated each time a new person is met. The only winning is in getting to know somebody well and keeping that person as a lover or as a friend. The only losing is getting once again beat over the head with the nature of the lesson itself; and this isn't really a loss at all, for it is a step forward in the learning of how to be able to truly get to know a person.

The other beautiful thing about this is that every person is a participant, even if they don't make attempts at getting to know other people at all. If, say, a hermit leaves his home to buy a carton of milk, he may encounter a clerk, and the clerk might ask him a personal question. The hermit, in true hermit-fashion, might perhaps take the milk, leave the change on the counter, and run away; but this will cause two things to happen. Firstly, the clerk will exercise a tiny bit more caution in the future, unless he's entirely dense, and will refrain from asking questions that are too personal. Secondly, the hermit might become slightly less sensitive to being asked personal questions, and the next time it happens he will perhaps remember to pick up his change instead of opting to tip the clerk out of pure social awkwardness and utter terror. So, in this way, this phenomenon works even when the results are only apparent with respect to how they effect other individuals who may not have even been involved in the initial interaction.

It's lovely to think about a whole network, in which people are dancing back and forth with one-another, and in which some run so far from one person that they run too fast into another, who in turn runs too far from that person and too quickly into another, and so on. It brings to mind an image much like the one I had in my head in middle school when my science teacher taught us about the dispersion of gaseous molecules in a sealed room; and the way in which they would distance themselves from one-another so that the distance between each was the same; and the subsequent way in which they would restore this equidistance after it was disturbed (e.g. after a window was opened for a short while, or after more of this gaseous substance was let into the room).

With this in mind, human beings seem a very natural and predicable bunch. They aren't really, though, are they? The thing I like about it is that these human beings behave emotionally very much like these gaseous molecules behave physically. Rarely do we get a chance to say that the emotional realm is mimetic of the physical, or vice-versa. Loosely, sure, but nonetheless mimetic.