There is such a thin wall that separates us from one another. Yet it is formidable enough to create wholly separate universes. It is a barrier I have sadly given the power to counter the natural pull that otherwise would draw me together to others. The natural pull between two entities is fundamental, but I go to such great lengths to resist it.
It is a mystery to me why beings with such great powers of awareness would create a culture that insists on separating us. I am a student of years of being taught to fear the unusual and unfamiliar, the other. I have learned well how to use my primitive reptilian brain to guide me through halls of constraining fear and separateness. It is easy for me to stay inside of my individual and isolating bubble. It is safe, but it is also painful because it is against my true nature. I want a different kind of comfort.
I know that a thin wall shields me from being openly transparent and revealing. It is a wall that also obscures others behind an opaque boundary that is hard to penetrate.
The actual distance between me and others can be so slight, but we avoid possible contact by touch or meeting eyes. We can sit together in a great room and together thrill to the musical world of someone like Dvorak. Then together we exit our seats, all the while never touching one another or meeting eyes, each of us behind our thin wall.
I had such a moment this week when, during a concert, I gently placed my hands on the shoulders of an older woman and squeezed through the doorway that she and her companions were blocking. I broke the cultural rules by touching her. She was both startled and apologetic. I had no regrets and feel we communicated in a respectful and meaningful way, with a high degree of awareness.
I think it is a cautious, anxious criticism to say that someone “has no boundaries”. I think we have too many boundaries. The boundaries keep us apart and unaware, and that includes the boundaries we place for touch. Someone apologizes because they softly bump me as they pass. I’m not sure that I share the same regret about contact.
Rather than hear someone apologize for touching me as they pass, I would prefer to hear them acknowledge “I’m walking behind you,” or “I bumped your leg.” No regrets from either of us. We each become more aware.
I am making it more of a habit to touch someone when I am greeting them. I greet them with more than a “keep away” handshake. Instead I touch their arm, their back. Sometimes I hug them. I prefer a lingering hug that allows us to take the time to be deeply aware of one another. Maybe time enough to take a full breath, or maybe even two.
Some walls that separate us may serve some good purpose, but I think they are all much thicker than is helpful. I want less boundaries, less structured contact, and more awareness.