I-Thou versus I-It

Kayla Clark

RSTD 236

I’ve always struggled with allowing myself to dwell in a place and not just tread there. I’m always on the move and love to travel and explore new places, but I deny myself more than a cognitive experience of a place most of the time. The I-It relationship is more prevalent in my life than the I-Thou relationship. After reading what Martin Buber has to say about constituents of a place as subjects versus objects, it was clear that I have created an I-Thou relationship with a place of my childhood. Back home there is a creek that runs through my neighborhood. The older I get and the more I return there the more convinced I am that this place is incapable of being inactive.

            I’ve been going to this creek since I was six years old. My sister and I would make traps out of wire baskets and use oyster crackers as bait to try to catch the little fish that swam by. Summer days were spent climbing trees and in the winter the creek turned into our own personal ice skating rink. At that time I was only experiencing the creek because I was the only one acting upon the environment. Buber sates that “experience is remoteness from you” and reflecting back I’ve come to see the accuracy in Buber’s suggestion. I had given the creek borders and limits. The trees were defined by how well I could climb them and the creek itself was only fun when it was filled with fish. The constituents were void of thoughts, sensations, and emotions to me. I spoke of the creek in a third person stance only: from an objective point of view where the relationship was only one sided.

            As I’ve grown up and come to spend less time at the creek, I realize that the bond I have with this place entails much more than what I can do there or what it holds for me. The creek and forest continue to grow, change, and breathe even when I am not present. Each time I return, trees have fallen, new trees have begun to grow, and baby fish aren’t so little anymore. I remember finding the tree that I built my tree house in and thanking it for not falling over with me inside of it. I’ve been able to encounter the constituents of the creek because I’ve come to realize what Buber states: “Relation is reciprocity.” I not only act on them, but they act on me. The creek and the tree that held my tree house keep all my secrets and know me better than most people. The creek’s environment has no boundaries and cannot be limited. The environment and I are one —unmediated and uninterrupted by anything.