Nicole Long, poet and friend, sent me this quote from Henri Nouwen:
A few times in my life I had the seemingly strange sensation that I felt closer to my friends in their absence than in their presence. When they were gone, I had a strong desire to meet them again but I could not avoid a certain emotion of disappointment when the meeting was realized. Our physical presence to each other prevented us from a full encounter. As if we sensed that we were more for each other than we could express. As if our individual concrete characters started functioning as a wall behind which we kept our deepest personal selves hidden. The distance created by a temporary absence helped me to see beyond their characters and revealed to me their greatness and beauty as persons which formed the basis of our love.
I know what Nouwen is describing, and I have experienced these feelings at various times in my life. Why the physical domain impacts certain relationships more than others, I do not know. And as the availability of other modes of interaction that do not include a physical presence–phone and online for example–but can deliver their own version of intimacy, the “in the flesh” version of human interaction is morphing as well.
This is a more complex issue than the often voiced concern about people spending too much time online. Nouwen was a priest (often compared with Thomas Merton and Teilard de Chardin) who wrote a great deal about solitude as well as the concomitant longing and need for community. He has been described as a man who had many friends but constantly struggled with a profound sense of loneliness. And while this quote could be viewed as a psychological indicator of his personal struggle with intimacy, it hits on something much more profound.
Walls that protect our “deepest personal selves” appear all the time, and what works to get past them has often surprised me. Like most people, I have intensely personal relationships with people I connect with online, people I have never met in the flesh. An emotional intimacy emerges in those online interactions that would take much longer to achieve in person. And while some of those relationships may be able to transmogrify into full bodied friendships, others may not. But having these options for connection, disembodied though they may be, is like finding a whole new wing of your house you didn’t know was there.
What a wonderful find—Nouwen describes something many people have probably felt. I know I have. It IS difficult—in the real world, face-to-face—to fulfill the promise of an intimacy you may feel in the abstract. My problem is knowing what to do with his discovery.
Your connection to the on-line life is especially thought-provoking. Parents who worry that online relationships are overtaking actual ones assume that online relationships aren’t real or whole. Their children have hundreds or thousands of friends on Facebook and fewer in the flesh. Not having known that experience themselves, parents don’t know how to feel.
I don’t either. I think abstract intimacy is real, but should we take comfort in our online relationships (and accept absence, distance, and no physical contact) OR should we seek the more problematic intimacy of being with someone . . . in the same room, at the same time? I know it needn’t be an either-or—most people have friends online and off—but which intimacy will ultimately be more fulfilling? I’m really not sure.
Another interesting post!
A wise friend once told me that every generation defines its own methods of creating community and fulfilling those very basic human needs. I have never wanted to be a generationalist who cannot accept the never ending march of new forms that keep morphing.
I have often considered what life was like for 19th century pioneers who, like my ancestors, lived their lives in relative isolation. I have read some of their journals and have been struck by how much of their time was focused solely on survival. At the end of the day they had enough energy left to contemplate God’s will and go to bed. I’m being flip here, but there is something significant to consider about our availability of time, technology and convenience. So even though I do not have any predictions I can stand by about where this is all going, my natural optimism and delight in having more channels rather than less makes the future seem like it might be OK.