Orbits
“All bodies create their own gravitational field. We are dancing in the gravity of someone or something else.”
There’s this idea of orbits that I’m very fond of1. In its simplest form, an orbit is a balance between two opposing forces: gravity pulling objects together, and momentum keeping them apart. Without both forces, you either have collision or escape.
This concept reveals itself in many other facets of the universe, especially in relationships. We’re all pulled towards each other by various forms of attraction - love, admiration, shared interests - while simultaneously maintained at distance by our individual trajectories, our separate lives, our need for autonomy.
Sometimes we’re near, sometimes we’re far, but the relationship maintains a baseline of integrity throughout these variations. There’s an ebb and flow that defines the connection itself rather than diminishes it. I think this is the idea of relationships in of themselves. That we are able to witness each other, and to be influenced by one another, while still maintaining our own trajectories.
This is how I’ve come to see everyone in my life. There are those whom I orbit frequently, where I witness their unfolding up close - seeing the colours and textures of their growth, their struggles, their transformations. I’ve learned to appreciate both the grand moments and the quiet ones.
Then there are others whose orbits intersect mine less frequently. These more distant orbits aren’t any lesser - they’re just different dances2, each offering their own unique gifts. Every time I cross paths with someone that I am unable to see frequently, the contrast simply reminds me of how much time has passed since the last sync and how quickly we can unfold into ourselves.
All of these orbits impact my own unfolding process. I’m grateful for them all.
What I didn’t understand when I was younger was that everyone’s gravitational field comes from something more fundamental: their potential to become. This isn’t linear growth toward some complete version of themselves - it’s more like what Christopher Alexander calls unfolding, from “The Unfolding Whole”.
I really do believe that like plants, we’re all constantly unfolding. We don’t critique a plant for its stage of growth - we accept it, understanding we can only create conditions that support its natural development. These processes happen gradually, following their own natural rhythm. Just as each plant grows into itself, each person’s orbit is shaped by how their mind works - how they see the world, what makes them curious, what brings them alive. I believe that it is the process of unfolding that creates gravitational pull.
Unable to process seasonality at play, I have held some relationships too tightly, and I’ve also let others slip away. I’ve come to learn that some orbits naturally decay as we unfold in different directions. Understanding this doesn’t fully remove us from the sense of loss, but it has helped me see these shifts more like natural forces rather than failures or shortcomings.
Every few days, I send text messages to people who cross my mind - asking how they’re doing, wishing them well. These small check-ins are my way of telling these incredibly inspiring and heartwarming people that I want to stay in their orbit, that their unfolding matters to me. I believe that it is very important that I do this. I am not much if not for the lovely people surrounding me.
If everyone’s gravity comes from their unfolding process, then I’m not sure why I should feel anything less than gratitude for being in anyone’s orbit.
“How lucky am I”, to be compelled towards others.
From a romantic point of view, I often think about this line from Henrik Karlsson’s “Dostoesvky as lover”,
“I didn’t want her as my girlfriend, I just wanted her as a human being. I just wanted her around.”
When I read this for the first time, it felt like a few different moving parts in my brain aligned in a way that helped me hear new colours. The insight that this revealed to me is that the deepest form of love might be simply choosing to remain in someone’s orbit, to witness and celebrate their becoming simply because.
I really do think this is what healthy relationships look like. Allowing for empty space to exist, and loving without attachment. Not the desperate attempt to hold onto someone or something, but the simple joy of being within their orbit.
Fred Rogers articulates this idea really well with these words. It can be very hard confronting the fact that the most we can do for one another is to appreciate the ways in which we simply exist.
“It’s so very hard, receiving,” he said.
“When you give something, you’re in much greater control. But when you receive something, you’re so vulnerable.”
“I think the greatest gift you can ever give is an honest receiving of what a person has to offer.”
It’s a tricky thing isn’t it? How funny is it that we trip ourselves up over the idea that we need to capture, that we need to offer up something more than ourselves. What if all we ever needed to do was to sit and appreciate what we have in our orbit.