Prelude:
Dear reader,
This piece branched out from two questions quietly stirring something within my system lately:
“Is an authentic encounter possible within a relationship between beings, one in which we experience the other not as an extension of our own inner world, but as they truly are?”
“What kind of relational space might emerge if, in moments of encounter, we noticed that, consciously or unconsciously, we often keep one another from being fully seen? If we noticed how readily we reduce one another to one-sided labels, confine each other within judgments frozen in time, and chose, as much as we are able, to suspend those judgments?”
As I followed these questions, a concept began to germinate within me, one I came to call the Encounter Space.
As you read, you will move within and between different Encounter Spaces, each unfolding from another like a Matryoshka doll.
I hope you choose to “witness” them.
The Encounter Space:
The literature offers various descriptions of a space that may emerge between an individual and any living and/or non-living being. Their authors were each influenced by those who came before them. Here, I bring together two approaches that have inspired me deeply: those of psychoanalysts Donald Winnicott and Jessica Benjamin.
To move forward together, I will summarize each concept in a single sentence, knowing this inevitably leaves something out. After all, these concepts were carefully developed over many years to understand, articulate, and share the processes of creation.
For Winnicott, the “transitional/potential space” is the space between inner reality and external reality, where neither fully takes over the other, and where play, creativity, and relationship can come into being.
For Benjamin, the “third space” is the relational space in which two conscious subjects are able to recognize one another mutually, where neither fully controls the other, and where meaning is created together.
Perhaps amusingly, the Encounter Space I am proposing carries its own definition within the very way it comes into being. Maybe that is why, as I try to define it, I find myself already within it.
When I think of the two approaches that inspired me, together with myself, as separate “subjects” participating in this relationship, the interaction that emerges between us creates something beyond the sum of its individual parts. It is this relational emergence that I choose to call the Encounter Space.
This concept extends beyond both approaches that actively inspired it, and beyond the knowledge that has shaped who I am, because none of these elements could have brought it into being alone. By beyond, I do not mean better or superior. I simply mean a new dimension, one that is born through relationship.
The Backbone of the Encounter Space:
The Encounter Space is a relational space in which subjects who are capable of influencing one another can experience each other not only through pre-existing narratives, but also through the dynamic possibilities of the present moment; a space where new meanings, unvarnished confrontations, play, creation, and transformation can emerge together.
This space is not limited to two subjects; it can arise through multiple “subjects” participating simultaneously. Throughout this essay, I do not limit the notion of the “subject” to human beings alone. Instead, I use it to refer to any living or non-living entity capable of influencing the course of an encounter and of being influenced by it, as an active part of this relational pattern.
As “subjects” become more open to the encounter and more capable of recognizing each other’s agency, the range of meanings they can create together may also expand.
Not every relationship gives rise to an Encounter Space.
Even when an Encounter Space has come into being, a relationship may not always be experienced through it. Yet the possibility of its re-emergence remains.
The Dance of the Encounter Space:
Let us explore this dance together through a few examples.
Since this is the first time we are stepping into the water, let us begin with two separate subjects. Let us call them both “I.” Let us imagine that, when these two “I”s meet, they are able to experience both themselves and one another as separate subjects.
But what does it mean to experience another as a separate subject?
It is the capacity to witness the other not through the fossilized judgments shaped by your recurring core beliefs, born from the “unresolved” experiences of the past, nor through the projections that have become so deeply woven into who you are, yet were once embraced because the pain of acknowledging them felt unbearable. Rather, it is the capacity, as much as possible, to witness the other as a being who continues to exist apart from you, with an agency of their own.
The act of witnessing:
It is choosing to look at both your own “I” and the other’s “I” with a curiosity that surrenders to whatever is coming into being in the present moment. It is an open-ended way of attending to the moment, where definitive judgments are, as much as possible, held in suspension, allowing the ordinary elements that make up the moment, together with the extraordinary details within them, to shape what is unfolding.
It is to recognize that you may be perceiving the “I” that emerges within the relationship through fixed labels, perhaps shaped by your fears and desires; and, “as much as possible,” not allow those labels to determine the encounter on their own.
It is neither passive waiting nor an active attempt to determine the encounter. Rather, it is a stance that allows every dynamic present in the moment to participate in shaping the relationship.
When this act can be sustained mutually by both “I”s, an Encounter Space emerges.
When we are also able to continue witnessing the Encounter Space itself, the relationship begins to take shape beyond pre-existing narratives. Experiences begin to emerge that neither “I” could experience alone, nor within relationships with other “I”s, whether those relationships carry an Encounter Space or not. They can only be discovered and created within this space.
The music of a delicious jazz performance beautifully illustrates this. It is the product of the Encounter Space that emerges as the musicians and their instruments witness one another, both within themselves and between one another. That music could only emerge in that very moment. And I assure you that even with the very same musicians, instruments, space, and audience brought together again, the music would still not be the same.
Because what can be witnessed in every moment is unique.
Within every moment, the rhythm of the contact that may emerge is unique.
And with every rhythm, the dance that may unfold is unique.
Do We Need to Know How to Dance in Order to Dance?
In this modern age, where rapid consumption has seeped into every corner of life and marketing an idea has become more appealing than living it, I “wish” we could answer this question with a simple, wholehearted “no.” But reaching this space, as with every profound transformation, asks for profound effort.
Yet the answer is not a simple, wholehearted “yes,” either.
The dance I am referring to is not the product of a memorized choreography. It is an improvised dance that arises spontaneously as the individual moves in harmony with their body, mind, and spirit, within the present moment, while witnessing its emergence.
No particular technique or dance figure is needed. Yet in order to make space for this improvisation and surrender to it, one must choose to come to know one’s own system, a system already in motion and already trying to relate to them, while remaining as free as possible from the fossilized judgments that restrict its possibilities for movement.
Does this way of relating feel familiar?
Because it is within the Encounter Space created through the authentic relationship one forms with one’s own system that this improvisation comes into being.
Making Space for Improvisation:
Perhaps that is why, before we can make space for improvisation, we must first notice the ground from which that dance begins to sprout.
Before we can make space for this dance, we might first notice the “field” where we sustain our existence in the outer world, a reflection of our inner world.
How fertile is it? How dry has it become? Are we giving it the care it needs? Are there landmines hidden within it?
For someone trying to sustain their existence under constant threat in a field where countless landmines lie buried, where those landmines were once placed in the service of survival, some still active, others whose presence remains unknown, each reflecting the invisible triggers of past experiences:
How fertile can their field become if every breath they take is organized around the possibilities of the question, “What should my next move be?”
How can they care for that field by trusting the present moment, surrendering to it, and witnessing it with curiosity?
And if they approach every step they take in the here and now through the “protective” role that the steps once constrained in the past continue to play in relation to the future, can the dance that emerges truly be called an improvisation?
The Landmine Deactivation Protocol:
Ever since I can remember, figurative language has drawn me. This way of making sense of reality, often described as something “beyond reality” or “extraordinary,” is in fact built upon concrete ordinary realities that are profoundly “real.”
While developing the landmine analogy, I followed a simple question:
“How does the deactivation process of a physical landmine unfold?”
There seems to be a tendency to believe that the answers we seek in our search for “the truth” can only be reached through extraordinary discoveries. Yet perhaps the extraordinary is not waiting somewhere beyond the ordinary. Perhaps it is already there, waiting only for us to stay with the ordinary long enough to notice what has always been there.
For that reason, I will make no further analogies. Instead, I simply leave below the plain and ordinary answers I came across, and leave it to you to discover whatever may be extraordinary within them, through your own journey of meaning-making.
Detection: The location of explosive devices within a suspected area is identified using appropriate detection methods.
Securing the Area: The area is marked, access is controlled, and unauthorized entry is prevented.
Neutralization or Disposal: The detected landmines are neutralized or destroyed by trained specialists using methods appropriate to the situation.
Clearance and Verification: The area is inspected once again. Only after it has been confirmed that every hazardous element has been removed is it declared safe.
If you feel that you have found the extraordinary within these ordinary answers, I have one final question:
Does the way you found yourself relating to the protocol feel familiar?