The silent power of proximity

It’s a fact that we rarely articulate: we are drawn to the presence of certain people simply because of how they make us feel. Not through conversation, action, or advice — but just by being. Their proximity reassures us, comforts us, and somehow makes the world feel safer, calmer, more aligned.

I remember how, during our visits to my mother, most of our time would be spent shopping or catching up with friends. She would often complain, “You say you’ve come to visit me, but you hardly spend any time with me.” At the time, I brushed it off. Years later, I found myself echoing the same complaint to my son. He would call me over with much enthusiasm, only to remain immersed in work on his laptop. I finally voiced my frustration — only to be met with quiet clarity. “Mom,” he said, “I just like having you around.” That was it. No elaborate bonding rituals. No intense conversations. Just presence. And in that, was love.

Unspoken magic

Sometimes, we misunderstand proximity as needing interaction or attention. But more often than not, its magic lies in what is unspoken. Like sitting beside a loved one on a garden bench, saying nothing, simply sharing the stillness. It is in these moments that we feel most grounded — not because someone is doing something for us, but because they are simply there.

Proximity to children, too, brings this strange healing. Watching them play in a park, full of abandon and joy, reminds us of a time when we too lived without layers of expectation. Their innocence seeps into us quietly, peeling away the burdens we carry and replacing them with a fleeting but beautiful sense of lightness.

Our elders would often insist we spend time in temples — not merely to offer prayers, but to just sit. At the time, it seemed a passive ritual. But later, I understood. Sitting in the quiet sanctity of a temple, inhaling the fragrance of flowers and camphor, watching the serene face of the deity, one is wrapped in a wordless warmth, a feeling that everything will eventually be all right. Not because someone said so, but because something felt so.

Just as we gravitate towards uplifting energy, we instinctively recoil from the opposite. Proximity to a negative or anxious person can unnerve us. It’s not about what they say; it’s the aura they carry. Our spirits pick up more than our ears do. The same way we bask in the silent strength of a wise or compassionate soul, we shrink in the presence of someone whose energy is chaotic.

What proximity offers, then, is far beyond physical nearness. It is emotional osmosis. It is resonance. And most beautifully, it doesn’t demand performance, declarations, or even words. You don’t have to do anything. You just have to be.

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