The problem of proximity investigated.

Let’s define proximity. First let us get the obvious ones out of the way. There is physical proximity, where people are physically near you. Say, in a bus or in a cafe. There is the obvious one about people occupying our field of vision. That is another kind of crowding. Then there is emotional proximity which is the kind we feel in love, I suppose. “I am close to this person.” That sort of proximity. This could also be applied to friendships and so on. We also feel close to certain topics. People often say that genocide in x place is something very close to their heart. Then there is proximity as danger. “I was this close to being run over by the bus.” “I became too close to her.” Then there is proximity as sweet reminiscence. “I was this close to winning the race.”

Proximity, since it is usually defined by the word ‘close,’ demands that we also think a bit about that word. The etymology, it appears, is from Latin ‘clausum’ which means “enclosed space.” That explains why crowds can be suffocating. Why we feel short of breath in crowds. Note: see how words and physical sensations are related. But then the question is: What is being enclosed? What is the object? Is it space itself? Like a chicken coup or a bull-fighting ring? Or, is it the feeling that we are enclosed with another person/people? Because if we were alone in a vast enclosed space, we would probably not feel this way. But being enclosed with another person is what causes this suffocation, isn’t it? So the essential ingredient is the other person.

Why are other people the enclosure which makes us close? I think that in this context, it is also about “being closed” as in a bottle being closed. Trying to close ourselves to avoid being opened up. In other words, the enclosure is not the ‘border’ but rather the other person itself. Even if in a vast open park, the presence of just another person 100m away is enough to make us feel ‘close’ to them. I remember that WWE used to have this programme called “Hell in a cell” or something similar-sounding. Maybe if we think about “Hell is other people” this WWE act acquires a lot of significance.

So this means we might want to go back to Sartre, Hegel, Levinas etc. to understand this ‘other’ business. Ethics is about the other, isn’t it?

Is that why we are asked to “open up?” Opening up is the other half of closing down. So when we have to open up to someone, the demand is that we lose the suffocation, the feeling of being trapped with the other, and become comfortable. Paradoxically, it also means getting rid of the enclosure. The feeling of suffocation. But that is the logical solution. If we pause for a moment, we will see that opening up implies getting closer to the other, which in turn means an increase in the “enclosure” which in turn means more suffocation. Maybe that is why the act of opening up is a suffocating act. Maybe that is why some people do not believe in “let us talk about it and solve it.” Because opening up is an act of becoming enclosed. But this is really easy mistaken. We think that opening up is an act of freeing ourselves. But as we know now, its effect is the opposite.

This raises the question of why psychotherapy is effective. Psychotherapy is effective not because we are talking to an other, but because we are talking about ourselves. I firmly believe that if we write about ourselves or just talk to ourselves, it will bring about the same sort of revelations which a session of therapy might provide. Care of the self, as Foucualt identifies in Marcus Aurelius, can include these sorts of reflections. It helps us watch ourselves in the process of becoming.

That said, there are so many fleshy thighs around. Flesh is the ultimate enemy. No matter how many times we devour flesh, it always holds a promise of satisfaction. Flesh demands. But I do not think that these demands are infinite demands. They are impossible demands, surely. Biting can only last so long. Basing anything on biting is a fool’s errand. Bite, release. I saw an image of a dead woman, her body almost going through saponification, maggots crawling all over, her head a dark red, almost a black blob. A blue pair of shorts. She was hanging in a forested area. Dry brown leaves on the ground. Few small trees all around. But what caught my attention was her breasts. The way I imagined putrefaction always involved atrophication but never such bloating that would make people’s features so mesmerising. I do not think the dead woman had such shapely, perfect breasts. I guess the rotting flesh must have built up as gases inside her and propped up her breasts. Like a natural bra. I knew that death amuses me. I did not think that I would find a dead woman’s breasts worthy enough to be attended to. This was probably a gang-killing and not a suicide. She looked Latin American. I do not think her breasts were as perky when she was alive. It was death which made her a model. Not just death, but putrefaction. I mean, people do get more respect once they die. Why is death so weird? Death can make us cry, and it can arouse us. A pet’s death destroys us. But a stranger, possible victim of all kinds of dominations and oppression…why did it catch my attention, especially her breasts?

Is it just objectification? Or sexualisation? Misogyny? Maybe it was the fact that even in death, even while rotting and being crawled on by maggots, a person can still exude beauty. Maybe it was my assumption of ugly death being subverted. Maybe it was how perfect the form was, despite being dead. Maybe it was the perversity of it. Dead, rotting, bloated, yet…perfectly formed?

These thoughts become a problem only when we conflate death with despair and arousal with moral weakness and sexualisation with misogyny. It is the systemic and structural sexualisation that makes it misogynistic. Often the women I have sex with want me to sexualise them. Some want me to objectify them. Would I do that to random people? No. If I did that to every person I met, yes, that would be a problem. But the act in itself…is that problematic? Maybe it was not just the breasts that captured my attention, but the contrast it made with the situation of death. Maybe we are trained to associate death with negative emotions, respect, niceties. I think the problem lies in thinking in absolute terms. Perhaps we should fight the urge to generalise.

I would like to think and write more, but I am hungry and tired.