Our fits are not fixed.

In which I consider the logic of our fits with the world

We get what we expect. In fact, we make it so.

Yes, there is an “objective” world out there. But what does that world consist of? Matter? Molecules? Atoms? Strings? Quarks? Charm? (I guess charm is a type of quark. But I’m not removing it from my list because I love the label.)

Well, all of these things, I gather. But I don’t actually perceive the world in these ways. I definitely interact with matter, but I don’t go around pointing and saying, “There’s some matter. Oh! There’s some more matter!” What I say is, “There’s a table. And there’s a chair that I think will hold my weight. I’ll sit on it! And put my plate on that nice flat table!”

I don’t worry at all that the table and the chair are, at the level of atoms, mostly empty space. (Actually, they’re “a kind of fizz of particles” called muons. Who knew?)

I perceive what my body is constructed to perceive. But I’m constantly organizing what I perceive in ways that reinforce my interpretations. We’re a sense-making team, the world (matter) and I.

Let’s say I’m walking through an orchard with a good book under my arm. I am looking around at the low-hanging branches, noticing the rough bark and, I don’t know, apple blossoms? “Branches,” I note unconsciously. “Bark. Blossoms.”

Then I see a limb that is shaped in a particular way. “Reading nook,” I say to myself. I crawl up in there and open my book. (And read for, like, 5 minutes because that nook is actually pretty uncomfortable.)

Is that limb actually a reading nook? No. It’s just a limb. In fact, it’s a bunch of molecules. I turned it into a reading nook because that’s what I was looking for. I interpreted a complex collection of atoms as a place for me to nestle and read my book. The world and I worked together to make this fit. (This is called Gibson’s theory of affordances.)

I do the same thing with people. I do the same thing with ideas. I look for fits that I can nestle into. If I’m someone who grew up in a family that satisfied my every need before I even knew I had it, then I’m probably oblivious and entitled in my everyday adult life. If I grew up expecting to be neglected, taken for granted, then I easily find in people’s behaviors evidence that they are neglecting me or taking me for granted.

If I’m accustomed to being treated with derision, then I’ll look for romantic partners who treat me with derision (or are capable of it). I won’t even notice possible partners who treat me with respect and admiration — they won’t even register. I might be friends with them, but I probably won’t be attracted to them. I’m looking to get what I expect, what I can fit with. Even if that fit is painful.

It might be painful, but it is familiar. And that’s just how I’m constructed; that’s just the plug and outlet I am. I can’t help it — unless I get conscious and pay attention to my assumptions and behavioral patterns.

The good news is, of course, that I can pay attention to my assumptions and behavioral patterns. Oh yes. And when I pay attention, I can change myself. I can try out new behaviors; I can try out new interpretive frames; I can experiment. I can learn new ways of fitting in the world when I’m open to interpreting the world differently. When I’m open to interpreting the world differently, I will begin to perceive it differently. (And vice-versa.) Which means I’ll fit with the world in new, ideally more healthy, ways.

It’s logical. It’s also magical.