Space is essential. Silence is essential. Love, being complex and confusing, chooses to express itself in the lulls.

This is going to be a long and rather serious post about space and separation and love and relationships and such. It may not be the best thing in the world. That said, if you feel like reading on, please do so after the jump (“Jump” meaning the rest of this article, which is viewable by clicking “continue” below). If you’re not interested, I understand the need for a change in scene every now and again.

I see it clearly in music: I hate sound that’s muddy, or not clearly defined. I love music that uses breaths or micro-second breaks, adding dynamics and rhythms fully to the palette of the song rather than just notes. Too fill every moment with sound, to be afraid of spots of silence is a pretty clear sign of an amateurish, insecure band. It’s the silence that gives music rhythm, or “groove” for lack of a better word…the amazing thing about a band is when multiple people find ways to uniquely express the fullness of their instruments – including the seconds of not playing – while staying within the pre-defined “rules” of the song…

I see it in movies, books and tv shows: I hate it when every action, every thought, every reason that someone does something is scripted out and explained…when every second is “action-packed”, when the characters aren’t given a space of their own to grow inside each viewer’s mind without being fully explained. I hate it when a writer feels the need to fully define a character, and to show why they did everything they did, rather than leaving the ambiguity that is a natural part of life.

And I see it in every day conversations. I hate it when people (myself included) feel the need to talk, just to talk. When every lull in conversation is thought to be incredibly awkward, instead of what it is – a natural, common thing that allows the laughter and intrigue of conversation to flow all the more. When one hurries to fill a conversational void, they defy the natural flow – the awkwardness comes not from the quiet, but from the rush to fill that quiet with whatever comes to mind first. That said, I’m basically always the first one to awkwardly pipe up in these times from some perceived need that isn’t there. It’s an expression of insecurity – an expression of thoughts like “Oh God! Oh God! What can I talk about next?” or “Oh man, this person must be thinking I’m so lame.” Whereas, natural conversation with loved ones and friends takes on the timbre of speaking when you have something to speak about, and speaking honestly, fully, passionately about any and all things – but also being completely willing to sit in silence with that person, to enjoy the moment together, to watch a fire together, to listen to nature or, whatever, just stare at the table together. This is something I’ve learned a lot about over the past few years.

And now I’m starting to see how this thought manifests itself in relationships. I guess it really boils down to the stupid old cliche “If you love something, let it go” – right? But, that’s taken on a deeper meaning for me of late, I guess.

It’s difficult. When you love someone, romantically or friendship-wise or whatever, you want to be a part of everything they do, you want to spend every moment with them. You want to smother every moment with together-ness. It’s natural, of course – if every time you’re together is more fun than the times you’re not..it’s totally reasonable to want more time together. But, as in anything, it’s the times apart that breathe life into the times together…that make them constantly refreshing, constantly new.

Perhaps this one is harder simply because of the temptation to ascribe emotional motivations to other people’s actions. It’s easy to see someone spending time doing other things, things that don’t or can’t involve you, and to feel left out, excluded, like you aren’t wanted. Then you start searching for what you did wrong, how you offended the person. You want desperately to make it right, you start feeling uncomfortable and insecure, you rush to fill the perceived void – you smother the space which made the friendship work.

This is such a beautiful example of the folly that comes from being entirely contained within your own head. Close friendship isn’t broken by people attempting to find something outside of that relationship, but by misunderstanding, second-guessing and ascribing negative emotions where none are present.

Here it is, here’s the whole point that I’ve come to from weeks of sorting myself out: People don’t seek to advance themselves in ways outside of a close relationship because of any lack in that relationship. Rather – it is the fullness of love, security and confidence afforded to them by that relationship that allows them to experience things outside of it, to take risks and chances and know that it doesn’t matter what the result of those risks is, because even if they fall flat on their face, their friends, loved ones, and family members will be there for them.

An example: I greatly miss my family. Parents, Sister, Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, all of them are amazing and closer than any family has a right to be. I love them dearly and cherish every moment with them. I bitterly regret every moment taken for granted or spent on the computer when I was younger that could have been spent with them. I love them wholeheartedly and fully, and would do anything for them. And it is exactly the security and confidence I have in that love that allows me to be so far from them, to see them once or twice a year for painfully short visits. If I had anything less than a full abiding knowledge of the fact that my family loves me more than life itself, and that that love is too strong to be diminished by my being in Korea, I would fly back in an instant.

I didn’t come here looking for something lacking in my family. I have everything I could want there – love, acceptance, at least 40 people who think the world of me, and whom I think the world of.

But it is exactly my confidence in that love that allows me to fly across the world, to try and gain some financial freedom for myself, to try to grow and “find out who I am” or whatever in an environment where I’m forced to do things on my own, where I am constantly challenged with things I’d think impossible. It is exactly that risk-free, unconditional love that has let me have this terrifically maturing experience that will change my life forever.

Similarly, I’ve tried to think of why it is that I can always go back to Flint, to my close high school friends, and feel completely at home, completely able to be myself, within minutes, if even that long. This, despite the fact that they both have gotten married to people not very well known by me before, that they lead completely different lives than we did before, and that we see each other for 2 weeks every 2-3 years or so.

But, I think it is because, without thinking about it – we have a relationship that is conducive to space. I have no doubt that my friends and I will laugh at the same things, that the same old jokes will still, somehow, someway, be hillariously funny. That there’s never a need to go somewhere, or do something to be entertained – we can simply sit around somewhere and I’ll laugh more than I have in years. There is a great security there, there is a great comfort, there is a great feeling of home.

For, just as in music, it is the space that defines the relationship. It is free of worries about how they might have changed, though undoubtedly we all have. It is free of insecurities about their new friends or new tastes or favorites, though undoubtedly they exist. It is free.

And each time we see each other, there’s no rush to fill a void – there’s no need to explain every action or thought or word you say. You can feel totally fine making a fool of yourself, without ascribing anything but the most positive of intentions to whatever laughter ensues.

Each time people in such relationships meet, whether it be hours, days, weeks or years since the last time, is merely the next life-infusing breath in what will be a lifelong connection – whatever they’ve experienced without you, becomes a new and vibrant part of their experience with you. If this natural ebb and flow of relationship is resisted, if nothing new enters in, it becomes pallid and stale, stagnant, dead.

Space informs, enthuses, and moves relationships forward. It makes them interesting, it makes them sustainable, it makes them worthwhile. In the cracks, in the lulls, in the serene hush of separation, you find the fulfillment of the times of excitement, enthusiasm and passion.

No mom, I’m not dating anyone.

Tags: confidence, get your money back, insecurity, mirth, Relationship, Separation, Space, Titles that are a bit of a stretch
Categories: Musings

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 30th, 2008 at 10:18 am and is filed under Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.