Breaking Down The Walls To Intimacy
Think for a moment about the most intimate moments of your life. By intimate, I mean moments when you let your guard down, allowing another person close enough to see the real you, all of you. Perhaps you recall a romantic moment, your wedding vows, looking into your newborn's eyes for the first time, or any other emotionally-charged circumstance when you allowed another human being to trespass the gates of your soul. These powerful points of contact are nourishing because we are sharing ourselves with another. We are risking, by becoming vulnerable. We are melting the barrier and trusting another to reciprocate with kindness and tenderness. We have dropped the everyday facades we wear in favor of exposing the "real" us; imperfections and all. What makes intimacy meaningful is that it requires another reciprocating human. Intimacy implies reaching out to another vulnerable person, and trusting them to reach back. For most people, their most profound intimate moments happen with lovers or close family. For me, it happened in a crowded room with strangers.
Seeing Eye To Eye
A decade ago I had a friend who was a New Age enthusiast, who persuaded me to participate in a weekend-long self-actualization training course. On the first day, to break down the barriers between the participants, they had us stand in two lines facing each other, about two feet apart. They instructed us not to talk or touch one another once the bell rang. They said we were to look into each others eyes without diverting our gaze for two minutes, at which time the bell would ring, and we were to move on to the next person. The room was instantly filled with gasps, snickers and groans as we contemplated looking into the eyes of a complete stranger for two minutes. Immediately the bell sounded, and the deafening silence began. Instantly I felt incredibly nervous, uncomfortable and mildly violated. What was the person seeing in me? What were they thinking about me? I couldn't wait for the bell to ring! When the chime sounded, I shifted to the next person. This time it seemed a little easier. The room seemed lighter; people were giggling and smiling. It was seeming less scary and not so serious. My partner and I were having trouble not laughing out loud. Hey, I thought, this isn't so bed after all. Soon the chime sounded, and I stepped to greet another partner. The longer I gazed into people's eyes, the less they felt like strangers, and the more it felt like we were partners, in this together. After 10 minutes of eye gazing I began to be aware of not the "us" feeling, but finally, the individual before me came clearly into focus. The saying, "Eyes are a window to the soul" became true for me. I didn't notice the color of their eyes, or their facial contours or their hairstyle. It didn't seem to matter if they were young or old, male or female, because all I was seeing was their soul. The room's atmosphere had transformed from nervous to sacred. With each successive partner, I began to see uniquely beautiful characteristics: some souls were joyous and effervescent, some were passionate and fiery, some were wise and consoling, and some were youthful and energetic. With people who had, minutes before been complete strangers to me, I was witnessing a spark of life inside of them, which was showing me, in a way I have never been able to fully comprehend, their unique brilliance and beauty. I noticed tears trickling down my face, and heard the others sniffing and softly weeping, too. Something was happening to us. We were breaking down the walls which usually keep us apart by making genuine contact with one another. Standing there I remember wondering, "Why have we all been so afraid of each other?"
We're All In This Together
Psychologists tell us humans have the same basic needs; essentially, humans crave the same things (Maslow). Since fundamentally we have the same needs, when then are we so hesitant to make meaningful contact with one other? The strangers who, for that special weekend became my friends, were very diverse: males and females, young adults to seniors, some poor and others affluent, some with minimal education and others with college degrees, and varying ethnicities. However, looking in each others eyes that day, those socially constructed divisions melted away. All we saw, after we worked through our self-consciousness, was a reflection not unlike ourselves. It was like looking in a mirror. We cried because we were astounded and relieved to find that there was nothing to be afraid of after all. All the differences that seemed so important before the eye gazing had simply evaporated, as if it had been a figment of our imagination, or a bad dream. The tears fell because we were amazed at the unguarded gift each soul was offering us, and because we had been such blind fools not to see it before.
Out With The Old, In With The New
It's a strange experience to find intimacy with a room full of strangers. It's an even stranger thing not to have it with the people in our lives. In order to be closer to the people we care about, to "let down the walls," it is a prerequisite to see these people anew, to appreciate them for their good attributes, as well as the bad. We build walls which prevent us from recognizing all of the other person. We get focused and transfixed on what's gone wrong, and that's the only lens we can see them through. To "update" our perspective is essential to being able to see others for who they really are. There isn't any hope of renewal if we are using outdated "glasses" to view them with.
Our Own Worst Enemy
As I described, initially in the eye gazing exercise, the participant's reactions were: fear, dread, nervousness, and embarrassment to the point of mortification. All these reactions could fall under the heading of self-consciousness. When we are self-conscious, we have split ourselves into the performer and the observer (Perls): "The pathological phenomenon of self-consciousness is differentiation into performer and spectator has occurred." Simultaneously we feel pressure to perform, or respond correctly, while another part of our mind observes as a critic would. When we are self-conscious, there is no room for anybodys opinion except our own. We do this so as to divert our attention from what others might think about us, to what we think about us. After all, we unconsciously reason, if I am the harsh critic of myself first, others will take pity on me, and not be as harsh with me. Being self-conscious is being our own worst enemy, because our criticisms are usually much worse than others would be. The person who suffers from self-consciousness is listening to the relentless voice of the Superego (Freud), or in Gestalt Therapy, it is called the Topdog. It is a superior voice which makes unattainable demands of perfection. People with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder are barraged by the orders of a hyperactive Topdog who is relentless, and won't cease it's demands until the sufferer has performed the rituals obsessively. Maybe you've never thought about how obsessive thoughts and self-consciousness are connected, but they have in common a relentless task-master and tyrant who demands perfection. Intimacy requires putting aside self-conscious behaviors, and staying in contact long enough to break through the all-consuming ego centrism which is self-consciousness.
Seeing Past The Meat Suit
I heard a Quantum Physicist refer our bodies a "meat suit" (Byrne). He said, "If you think you are just a "meat suit" running around, you're wrong." He explained how our bodies are mass, but that mass, on a molecular level, is unstructured energy (M=mc2). Though we wear bones and skin and dress it up, on a molecular level, we are all the same. We are composed of energy which cannot be destroyed. Because we are composed of constantly changing cells, our "meat suits" will look different 10 years from now, and much different 20 years from now. The point is, to judge by the "meat suit" someone wears today is to believe only what you can see. What you can't see is the person's energy fluctuating and evolving, changing even as you read this. To judge others by how they appear on the outside is a slippery slope, because not only will their body change, but the brain is constantly revising itself (called "plasticity"). Therefore, if you base your acceptance of others on their looks, or even what they think, you're asking to be disappointed. Whoever you think is "perfect" now cannot, as hard as they may try, escape the relentless march of time. Once you can see beyond the clothes, hairstyles, gender and ethnicity of others, you might have a chance of actually perceiving THEM.
The Gem
During the eye gazing exercise, once I had overcome my self-consciousness, I could see the soul within the person. It seemed to me like a sparkling gem. A gem which was clear in it's viscosity and sparkled with unique attributes all it's own. Like a fingerprint or a snowflake, no two souls were alike, except that they all appeared as sacred gems to me. They each had a distinct color and vibrational energy. I remember thinking that each soul was priceless.
The Pearl of Great Price
A pearl, like a gem, is precious. It's valuable. In Christ's time, living among fisherman, pearls were a known commodity. There's a story Jesus told about a man going and selling all he had to buy a field where a pearl of great price was hidden. This Bible story is referred to as "The Pearl of Great Price." While Bible scholars have interpreted this story many ways, and most believe the pearl represents salvation, I think Christ could have been saying that we must look to find the goodness in others. Kind of like a pearl buried in the dirty field, or a gem buried deep inside the eyes of another person.
Conclusion
Intimacy requires us to invest something of ourselves. To be willing to risk. To wade in a little deeper in our relationships. It all begins with a willingness to be willing. Next time you're feeling alone, look into someone's eyes and really see them, as if for the first time, and then allow yourself to be seen. Realize this type of human contact is nourishing to the soul--both for you, and for them. See, it wasn't so hard after all.
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