I completely agree about the observation on the two-dimensional person. It’s easy to lose sight of the intangibles of what makes someone uniquely them when you’re looking at figures on a screen. Sometimes, I sit with a friend - in person - and listen to them talk about something ,and I have these moments when I’m absolutely blown away at the way they say something or the way they smile or something that hits me as unique and special about them…it must be the way they move or that “charisma” or something. And it reminds me about how special humans really are.
Firstly, now closer to eighty than any other age I miss many people who have been very close. It was the recognition of security, being cared for and about, thought of, loved to feel free to walk up to a friend (male or female) and wrap an arm around their back, shoulders, touch gently in acknowldgement of their being, their importance - to be acknowledged by a return look of genuine care. Then on parting to take another's hand gently, or simply touch as a guarantee of seeing again . . .
Second - AAAHHH! From sundry males for decades (all unknown to me): "Why don't you smile, you look grumpy."
Me: "Right on sweetie, I'm grumpy because you think you have the right to comment on my appearance." Then don't start me on the way men comment of womens' appearance, for example former Australian Primem Minister Julia Gillard - then bring on her Mysogeny Speech.
Your reflections on your time in Lisbon and the multi-sensory nature of charisma resonated deeply with me. It's so true that in our visually dominated, digitally driven world, we're losing touch with the richness of human connection.
As an introvert who often finds solace in the virtual space, I appreciate the safety and curated comfort it offers. Yet, your observations about the power of touch and the nuanced interactions in Lisbon made me realize the profound experiences I might be missing.
You've articulated beautifully how charisma transcends mere physical attractiveness. It's a symphony of senses, a holistic experience that engages our ears, noses, and skin – a truth often obscured by the two-dimensional screens we stare at daily.
Your analogy with Grenouille in "Perfume" is particularly striking. The absence of scent, a seemingly subtle detail, created a profound unease, highlighting the importance of our neglected senses. In our online world, we are often presented with curated, scentless, and touchless versions of reality, leaving us feeling vaguely unnerved, just as the characters in Süskind's novel.
Your closing thought, "We were meant to literally rub up against each other and fall in love with the various expressions of each other's humanity," is a powerful reminder of our inherent need for physical connection. It's a call to break free from the isolating confines of our screens and embrace the messy, nuanced, and ultimately more fulfilling reality of human interaction.
Thank you for this insightful piece. It's a gentle nudge to put down the phone, engage all our senses, and truly experience the world around us. Perhaps, as you suggest, we should all try to "smell our friends" a little more often.
This is a poignant capture of the moment we’re in.
On similar lines, I’ve also been thinking about how the proliferation of plastic surgery and use of Botox will impact social relationships.
As there was a study done on people who do Botox on their faces and when compared to a control group of Botox-less faces (i.e. natural faces uninhibited by the freezing of facial muscles), those people were unable to emphasize with another as well due to their self imposed inability to mirror another’s emotions through subconscious mirroring of facial expressions.
I couldn't help but think about this study as I was reading your essay. As I wonder, in a more visual world, what happens to human relationships, now and overtime, if a growing size of the population isn't able to empathize or read emotions accurately? The irony is, as with Erica's example, the misinterpretation of "the complex depths of someone’s inner life" is already a challenge.
Concerning our societal changes with respect to how important the visual has become, it’s probably best to also include and factor in the presence of eye ware and eyesight correction as compared to earlier societies.
I grew up in a family where was very little touching in everyday communication. As a kid I thought that was perfectly normal and that was how all people were. As a teenager I realised there are all sorts of touchy-feely people in the world and I envied them. In my 20s I decided to make a conscious effort to join them. It was not easy and it took years, but hugging friends and relying on touch as a conversational flourish (I love that expression!) has come to be my second nature. It has contributed immensely to my well-being and I am now raising my kids to express themselves through touch - among other ways - and it has been wonderful. I would suggest it to anyone!
This really spoke to me—it was deep, meaningful, and beautifully expressed. Touching and hugging release oxytocin, which promotes feelings of bonding, connection, and warmth. Real-life interactions are something I have scarcely experienced, yet I can sense how powerful they must be!
Regarding "why don't you smile": In my 50s childhood this usually came from my mother and aunts - "Dear, you should smile more often - otherwise you'll never find a husband" - an irritating grooming strategy, along with "men like it when ladies wear blue". Wearing blue was relentlessly imposed despite the fact that it made me look jaundiced and sickly. It was also the era in which it was perfectly acceptable for children to be grabbed, prodded, pinched and stroked without permission. The blue rags were banished as soon as I left school, but before then "emphatically not smiling" was my only protection from pinchers and prodders. That, and loudly protesting (which was also frowned upon).
I completely agree about the observation on the two-dimensional person. It’s easy to lose sight of the intangibles of what makes someone uniquely them when you’re looking at figures on a screen. Sometimes, I sit with a friend - in person - and listen to them talk about something ,and I have these moments when I’m absolutely blown away at the way they say something or the way they smile or something that hits me as unique and special about them…it must be the way they move or that “charisma” or something. And it reminds me about how special humans really are.
Yes! It's often the way and the how someone says something more than what.
Two brief points.
Firstly, now closer to eighty than any other age I miss many people who have been very close. It was the recognition of security, being cared for and about, thought of, loved to feel free to walk up to a friend (male or female) and wrap an arm around their back, shoulders, touch gently in acknowldgement of their being, their importance - to be acknowledged by a return look of genuine care. Then on parting to take another's hand gently, or simply touch as a guarantee of seeing again . . .
Second - AAAHHH! From sundry males for decades (all unknown to me): "Why don't you smile, you look grumpy."
Me: "Right on sweetie, I'm grumpy because you think you have the right to comment on my appearance." Then don't start me on the way men comment of womens' appearance, for example former Australian Primem Minister Julia Gillard - then bring on her Mysogeny Speech.
It's the simple and everyday touches that often make the biggest impact.
Dear Johny,
Your reflections on your time in Lisbon and the multi-sensory nature of charisma resonated deeply with me. It's so true that in our visually dominated, digitally driven world, we're losing touch with the richness of human connection.
As an introvert who often finds solace in the virtual space, I appreciate the safety and curated comfort it offers. Yet, your observations about the power of touch and the nuanced interactions in Lisbon made me realize the profound experiences I might be missing.
You've articulated beautifully how charisma transcends mere physical attractiveness. It's a symphony of senses, a holistic experience that engages our ears, noses, and skin – a truth often obscured by the two-dimensional screens we stare at daily.
Your analogy with Grenouille in "Perfume" is particularly striking. The absence of scent, a seemingly subtle detail, created a profound unease, highlighting the importance of our neglected senses. In our online world, we are often presented with curated, scentless, and touchless versions of reality, leaving us feeling vaguely unnerved, just as the characters in Süskind's novel.
Your closing thought, "We were meant to literally rub up against each other and fall in love with the various expressions of each other's humanity," is a powerful reminder of our inherent need for physical connection. It's a call to break free from the isolating confines of our screens and embrace the messy, nuanced, and ultimately more fulfilling reality of human interaction.
Thank you for this insightful piece. It's a gentle nudge to put down the phone, engage all our senses, and truly experience the world around us. Perhaps, as you suggest, we should all try to "smell our friends" a little more often.
Thank you! Occasionally when I write, I open myself to new ideas as well. This was one case.
This is a poignant capture of the moment we’re in.
On similar lines, I’ve also been thinking about how the proliferation of plastic surgery and use of Botox will impact social relationships.
As there was a study done on people who do Botox on their faces and when compared to a control group of Botox-less faces (i.e. natural faces uninhibited by the freezing of facial muscles), those people were unable to emphasize with another as well due to their self imposed inability to mirror another’s emotions through subconscious mirroring of facial expressions.
I couldn't help but think about this study as I was reading your essay. As I wonder, in a more visual world, what happens to human relationships, now and overtime, if a growing size of the population isn't able to empathize or read emotions accurately? The irony is, as with Erica's example, the misinterpretation of "the complex depths of someone’s inner life" is already a challenge.
Concerning our societal changes with respect to how important the visual has become, it’s probably best to also include and factor in the presence of eye ware and eyesight correction as compared to earlier societies.
I grew up in a family where was very little touching in everyday communication. As a kid I thought that was perfectly normal and that was how all people were. As a teenager I realised there are all sorts of touchy-feely people in the world and I envied them. In my 20s I decided to make a conscious effort to join them. It was not easy and it took years, but hugging friends and relying on touch as a conversational flourish (I love that expression!) has come to be my second nature. It has contributed immensely to my well-being and I am now raising my kids to express themselves through touch - among other ways - and it has been wonderful. I would suggest it to anyone!
This really spoke to me—it was deep, meaningful, and beautifully expressed. Touching and hugging release oxytocin, which promotes feelings of bonding, connection, and warmth. Real-life interactions are something I have scarcely experienced, yet I can sense how powerful they must be!
When we seek beauty, as a simple tickle to our senses, we find it.
Regarding "why don't you smile": In my 50s childhood this usually came from my mother and aunts - "Dear, you should smile more often - otherwise you'll never find a husband" - an irritating grooming strategy, along with "men like it when ladies wear blue". Wearing blue was relentlessly imposed despite the fact that it made me look jaundiced and sickly. It was also the era in which it was perfectly acceptable for children to be grabbed, prodded, pinched and stroked without permission. The blue rags were banished as soon as I left school, but before then "emphatically not smiling" was my only protection from pinchers and prodders. That, and loudly protesting (which was also frowned upon).
I like the idea of empathically not smiling