In theory, social distancing or sheltering in place shouldn’t be too isolating for anyone with decent wifi because we can all connect to each other online. On my calendar this week I’ve got a coffee date with a friend on Skype, church via Facebook live streaming, English coaching for a non-native speaker on Hangouts, and a group workout with people from the CrossFit gym (now all sweating in their garages) on Zoom. And so we all carry on with our lives.
This global social pause will serve its purpose, and I support it. But this way of life isn’t healthy for the long run. I believe people will never be fully satisfied with online relationships for one reason: we all need eye contact.
This evening Erik and I took a walk around our neighborhood park. There were way more people than usual walking dogs or jogging on the gravel trail that loops around the park. People need fresh air and they also seemed to be looking for connection with other live, physical people. As we walked, I exchanged greetings with people coming toward us on the trail.
I noticed one woman staring at our faces as she approached us. I looked at her and said hello. She looked back, straight into my eyes, and said hi– but she was barely smiling, just searching my eyes. I think there’s an unspoken social expectation that there’s a limited amount of time you can look directly at a stranger without coming up with something to say to them. But this woman blew right past that time cap. She had nothing to say; she just quietly held my gaze for a couple seconds longer than you’re supposed to, like she wanted to soak up as much eye contact as she could possibly get before we passed each other.
When Erik and I were distance dating, we did a lot of video calls and quickly realized that you can’t get two way, real-time eye contact over the internet, no matter what app you use. It can never be done, at least not until phone designers learn how to place the camera directly under the screen display of the other person’s eyes (or Apple perfects its technology of faking eye contact by modifying the photo on the screen, which is weird). If I would stare directly at the camera on my phone, Erik could look at my eyes on his screen and feel like we were connecting, but I couldn’t look down at his eyes on the screen without ruining the moment on his end. We could take turns, and he could look right at his camera for a while while I looked at the screen– but we could never both stare into each other’s eyes at the same time.
We noticed that phenomenon because we had a four-month stretch of not seeing each other in person between our first/only date and our wedding. It was nice to see each other’s gestures and faces while we talked online, but by the end of those four months as I waited for Erik to fly into my country for our wedding, I found my heart pounding over the anticipation of being able to gaze into his eyes and see him responding to me in real time. It’s hard to feel like you fully know someone if you don’t remember what it’s like to exchange a glance with them.
This is a hard season for everyone, but especially those who are living alone and experiencing eye contact deprivation. I want to start doing an experiment: when I’m out in the park or at the grocery store, even though I maintain physical distance, I’m not going to maintain my normal level of relational distance from strangers. I’m going to take social risks and hold my gaze for a few heartbeats past the normal limit, whether we end up starting a conversation or not. I’m going to offer the gift of my humanity to the people around me who are starving for any kind of human contact. Eye contact is still powerful from a safe distance away.