I have been reading this book that excites me so much... I borrowed it from my philosopher professor. It's called I and Thou (Martin Buber), it's about encountering other people about relation. The kind of book that's poetic and rambling and entices you in while subtly rearranging you as you read it, or at least reminding you of how full of awe we should be at the Uncreated One and the glorious beings surrounding us.
He talks about how we either relate to people/things in the world as objects or as beings. And only in "I respond to You with my whole being" do we truly not just experience (which is a monologue), but encounter (a dialogue, that is dynamic and evolving and able to reshape us and this is presence and present.) In the whole experience vs. encounter - I started thinking of how little we know how to open ourselves and how to encounter, we rely on formulas that don't breach the surface (sentences, questions we think we must ask or not ask even when we really want to just mingle, meld, collide into another.) We don't know how to breach the surface for true resonance or responding (just like spiritual language has become so co-opted that it's hard to articulate any sort of experience without it sounding cliche or church-y).
But we all fall back on the formulas that don't allow for spontaneous or new encounters, we don't meet anything in a new or unique way. Our language and rituals and ... I guess the social structure confine us to the same ways of relating- even if that leaves us without genuine human interaction. And those formulas also conceal how we really desire to interact or encounter an other, a "You." There's always such an enormous gap between people, unsure of how to be vulnerable, how to be intimate-- how to give ourselves. But I wonder at that, what language do we need to undo and what questions lead us into people? He says- "try to meet every person, situation, and object in its own way." (But to me that seems so hard) It's a task of extraordinary attentiveness, and I think challenging our nature of trying to categorize and order things, reducing all experiences to routine and repetition vs. encounter. I think there's an aspect of needing to cultivate our capacity for wonder- not just at beauty or scenery, but wonder at the mysteries of another person, developing our desire for exploration. (but how to do that?) It's like the craving of authentic cultures, of some new place to travel, always seeking something new (for the chance of its profoundness)-- but all of that desire can be captured in the desire to travel into another person as well. "Allowing the encounter of another to disturb, disorient, unsettle us" so we continue becoming. Paying attention.
I feel like that is so hard for our culture, because we get so used to entertainment. And so few people appreciate silence and quiet but that's so central to encounter or true relationships, the continual opening and vulnerability and acceptance of unknowns in each other and even to ourselves, and the potential for change and evolution and cycles and growth. And he talks about seeing people as a whole, neighborless, seamless You that fills the firmament (when we are encountering them, that sort of intense focus, being truly present and attentive to encounter-- expanding how we interact, so we do not experience, but stand in relation too.)
I could go on and on... its such simple concept, but it is exactly what I have been wanting to read and dwell on lately... that aching to travel into others, to explore... and allow others to emerge, not trying to order, control, or possess them, but to reach out for that genuine human interaction. I think mainly that is what it means to love others- to appreciate and hear them as who they are. "Nothing else is present but this one, but this one cosmically." Then he ties it into God too. The life of spiritual beings is "wrapped in a cloud but it reveals itself, manifestations, it lacks but creates language. We hear no "You" and yet feel addressed'; we answer- creating, thinking, acting: with our being we speak the basic word unable to say "You" with our mouth."
(I think this articulates so much our struggle with relation to God, he created language but doesn't use it audibly for us, yet we sense Him, we try to speak back but are stuck in words.) "But how can we incorporate into the world of the basic word what lies outside language? In every sphere, through everything that becomes present to us, we gaze toward the train (the edge, the hem) of the eternal You." (He uses You here as being/ that which we encounter or can be in relation too.) We perceive a breath of it; in every You we address the eternal You." This excites me about God... His permanence, His hidden nature and yet... it beckons to me.
"It is up to you how much of the immeasurable becomes reality for you... it does not stand outside of you, it touches your ground, and if you say "soul of my soul" you have not said to much."
But we all fall back on the formulas that don't allow for spontaneous or new encounters, we don't meet anything in a new or unique way. Our language and rituals and ... I guess the social structure confine us to the same ways of relating- even if that leaves us without genuine human interaction. And those formulas also conceal how we really desire to interact or encounter an other, a "You." There's always such an enormous gap between people, unsure of how to be vulnerable, how to be intimate-- how to give ourselves. But I wonder at that, what language do we need to undo and what questions lead us into people? He says- "try to meet every person, situation, and object in its own way." (But to me that seems so hard) It's a task of extraordinary attentiveness, and I think challenging our nature of trying to categorize and order things, reducing all experiences to routine and repetition vs. encounter. I think there's an aspect of needing to cultivate our capacity for wonder- not just at beauty or scenery, but wonder at the mysteries of another person, developing our desire for exploration. (but how to do that?) It's like the craving of authentic cultures, of some new place to travel, always seeking something new (for the chance of its profoundness)-- but all of that desire can be captured in the desire to travel into another person as well. "Allowing the encounter of another to disturb, disorient, unsettle us" so we continue becoming. Paying attention.
I feel like that is so hard for our culture, because we get so used to entertainment. And so few people appreciate silence and quiet but that's so central to encounter or true relationships, the continual opening and vulnerability and acceptance of unknowns in each other and even to ourselves, and the potential for change and evolution and cycles and growth. And he talks about seeing people as a whole, neighborless, seamless You that fills the firmament (when we are encountering them, that sort of intense focus, being truly present and attentive to encounter-- expanding how we interact, so we do not experience, but stand in relation too.)
I could go on and on... its such simple concept, but it is exactly what I have been wanting to read and dwell on lately... that aching to travel into others, to explore... and allow others to emerge, not trying to order, control, or possess them, but to reach out for that genuine human interaction. I think mainly that is what it means to love others- to appreciate and hear them as who they are. "Nothing else is present but this one, but this one cosmically." Then he ties it into God too. The life of spiritual beings is "wrapped in a cloud but it reveals itself, manifestations, it lacks but creates language. We hear no "You" and yet feel addressed'; we answer- creating, thinking, acting: with our being we speak the basic word unable to say "You" with our mouth."
(I think this articulates so much our struggle with relation to God, he created language but doesn't use it audibly for us, yet we sense Him, we try to speak back but are stuck in words.) "But how can we incorporate into the world of the basic word what lies outside language? In every sphere, through everything that becomes present to us, we gaze toward the train (the edge, the hem) of the eternal You." (He uses You here as being/ that which we encounter or can be in relation too.) We perceive a breath of it; in every You we address the eternal You." This excites me about God... His permanence, His hidden nature and yet... it beckons to me.
"It is up to you how much of the immeasurable becomes reality for you... it does not stand outside of you, it touches your ground, and if you say "soul of my soul" you have not said to much."
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