learning yourself through others: friendship

If you need to make your friend a carbon copy of yourself (your opinions and perceptions, etc.) then you miss out on the nature of genuine friendship. Life should be spent with people who do not understand one another and are coming from different places. It takes time to understand another’s point of view—to really understand and not just acknowledge—and this is the job of friends. It is a like walking a long road together in the same direction.

Isn’t it true that only when someone says or does something that we don’t agree with that we furrow our brows? We think and begin to erect our framework of thinking through our interactions with others. Real friendship is messy and people need time to learn about themselves and how to live with different types of people coming from a different set of perceptions.

You cannot expect another to change quickly the way he or she thinks or acts… or to understand quickly. I want to question why I think the way I do, and in order to do so, backwards steps are necessary. This was imagery that my friend Jess thought up: a person is already a certain way by default; he or she just is. A person acts a certain way, dresses a certain way, talks a certain way, and has already developed a way of thinking. As life moves forward at rapid speed, one cannot observes his or herself except by taking backwards steps and questioning "How did I get here?!" Friends are a great tool when one commits his or herself to taking backwards steps.

waiting

What if when I drop her by the train station, ticket in hand, giving her the ticket just a moment before she boards, hug her and wish her well--what if...what if, she is boarding to never return? What if she travels the world, and what if she falls in love with people, places, and things that are unfamiliar to me. I will not know, if ever she returns, how to speak with her and how to be impressive in her eyes again. I am simple and have nothing more to offer than a ticket, a ticket to leave--to remove the strings which bind her to me, those very strings she wants released--and send her away with a promise. A promise that if she ever returns there will be a kettle boiling within a minute and I will want to hear stories and listen until she has nothing left to say. A promise that I will, if I ever explore, only do so between the market and home, fetching vegetables and the like. And that, though it is very little, will cost my life and my will and my strength and all of the parts of me that want to tell the stories. No, instead it is your turn to explore and to fill your mind with new and fascinating dreams, to see the world in different colors and grow wings with which to soar. It is your turn... And now the train has long since left the station, and these are words that remained only in my mind. Words that I couldn't find until she was gone. It took me too long to think; it always takes me too long to think. Dumbfounded, I stand knowing that she will never return.