space and the paradox of intimacy
the joys of presence, pangs of absence and sweetness of solitude
What is the ideal amount of space between two people?
Today I want to talk about space in a romantic relationship. I have experienced the comforting joys of being present with my lover, the bitter pangs of absence when we are apart, and also, the sweetness of solitude when I’m on my own. That our hearts make room for the coexistence of opposite desires: for closeness and for separation, is fascinating to me.
Arthur Schopenhauer has also meditated on this paradox of intimacy through the porcupine dilemma: on a cold winter's day, a group of porcupines huddled closely together to prevent themselves from freezing. But as they draw close, they soon wound each other with their sharp quills, which made them move apart from one another. Their longing for warmth soon brought them scuttling back together. Between this back-and-forth, they eventually discover that there is a sweet spot: close enough to benefit from shared warmth, but far enough to keep from hurting one another.
I’d like to think that two healthy people in love are less likely to hurt each other as quills do other porcupines. But I also do appreciate the truth behind the need for the right amount of space. Another saying that can help capture this essence is the age-old ‘familiarity breeds contempt.’ But how do we arrive at the right amount of distance between two people? Part of the answer lies with injecting a healthy dose of solitude (peaceful aloneness, voluntary isolation) into our lives.
Solitude is so essential that it may just be our responsibility to safeguard this peaceful aloneness for each other. Poet and novelist Rainer Maria Rilke put forth a compelling argument that it is the utmost task in any bond of significance, particularly that between a couple:
“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. For, if it lies in the nature of indifference and of the crowd to recognise no solitude, then love and friendship are there for the purpose of continually providing the opportunity for solitude. And only those are the true sharings which rhythmically interrupt periods of deep isolation.”
Rilke writes about marriage as appointing the other as a guardian of our solitude. Among the roles I imagine my lover to fill, guardian of my solitude certainly wouldn’t have made the list. And although I initially found the idea to be slightly puzzling (so much of being with someone is about togetherness), I grew to find it a wonderful notion. While it is true that time together with your special someone can be rejuvenating, comforting, making up exquisite moments of precious joy, it is also true that solitude is where the individual can flourish. This voluntary retreat into oneself is a necessary condition for self-nurturing and growth, which is intrinsic to sustaining the bond and attraction that existed between two people from the start. And Rilke has also pondered deeply on the role of solitude in a flourishing companionship. He writes,
“All companionship can consist only in the strengthening of two neighboring solitudes, whereas everything that one is wont (i.e. accustomed) to call giving oneself is by nature harmful to companionship: for when a person abandons himself, he is no longer anything, and when two people both give themselves up in order to come close to each other, there is no longer any ground beneath them and their being together is a continual falling.”
At the same time, it can be difficult to tease apart the desire for closeness with another, and the desire to escape from oneself. In moments when the pangs of absence still dull into an ache, I usually find it helpful to look inward, to re-centre, for it can be easier to give yourself up to someone else than you think. Sometimes, the ache can be easily alleviated with the steady thrums of self-companionship, friendship, community. Other times, it calls for a communication of the accumulated hurt, to seek a soothing balm that only this significant other can provide. We all have varying degrees of desire for solitude and romantic companionship. At the end of the day, it is also worthwhile to consider that the aches nesting deep in your gut may simply point to a mismatch in having needs on one side, and a lacking desire to meet them on the other – therefore boiling down to an indisputable incompatibility.
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Our time on this planet is finite, but the things we hope to experience and learn can approach the infinite, which includes our endless curiosity about the ideas, objects, and persons of our affections. I think that negotiating time and space is also negotiating independence and interdependence. Living life with another is endlessly more beautiful when our individual lives are nourished from feeding our unique curiosities, while bearing the keen awareness that we rely on each other for a specific type of nourishment. Love, cherishing, respect, admiration, intimacy. For there are some needs only a romantic partner can fulfil.
warmest,
shiying