On Friendship

"Have no friends not equal to yourself."
- Confucious (551 - 497 BC) Chinese philosopher.

"Fate chooses your relations, you choose your friends."
- Jacques Delille (1738 - 1813) French poet.

"A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud."
"The only reward of virtue is virtue; the only way to have a friend is to be one."
"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and choice."
- Samuel Johnson (1709 - 1784) British lexiographer.


"True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shock of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation"
- George Washington

"It is not so much our friends' help that helps us as the
confident knowledge that they will help us"
-Epicurus (341-270 BC) Greek Philosopher


"Friendship without self-interest is one of the rare and beautiful things in life"
- James Francis Byrnes


"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies"
-Aristotle

Friendship. It's been a part of mankind since our less than idyllic departure from the Garden of Eden. Whether you believe the story of Adam and Eve is literal, or allegorical, there is no question that man came to value friendship as part of his fledgling support system. This rambling collection of thoughts is by no means intended to downplay the critical role of our families, spouses or partners. I will be rambling about them as well.

The quotes above from philosophers, poets and statesmen are thought provoking, and worth a good deal of pondering. However, one thing that all of these quotes convey is a sense of depth in a friendship. Modern society's use of the word "friend" encompasses many definitions and levels of friendship, with adjectives like "my best" or "my work" or "my e-mail" or "my special" planted firmly in front of the word, to emphasize ownership and vaguely define the nature of the relationship. "Friend" is often used interchangeably with buddy, pal, acquaintance, compadre, homey, and even BFF. "Friend" has become synonymous with "someone I know".

As I sit here contemplating, and attempt to define "friend", I am struggling to find words to convey the feeling of what a deep and abiding friendship means to me. It's the aggregation of all those profound quotes above, and yet more. Dozens of adjectives come to mind describing components of it, but not one overriding thought or phrase to encircle it and wrap it up in a neat little package.

When I think of my dearest friendships, they exude a feeling of comfort, trust and joy whether we are together or apart. True friendship and love are, to a great extent, interchangeable, and co-dependent at the deepest levels. You can't be a friend without loving, and you can't love someone without being their friend.

Exposing who you are, smiles and tears, joys and scars, highs and lows, successes and failures, all become easy when friendship, like love, is unconditional. Friends challenge each other to be better, encourage each other, and accept the results.

When we are enveloped in our darkest hours, our true friends are ones that stay with us, and light the way back for us. Acquaintances are gone long before we bottom out.

As I have struggled with the mistakes of my past, with my failures, self-deceptions and uncertainties, I worried that my dearest friends would find me lacking, and not worthy of their friendship. To the contrary, it seemed to strengthen the bond, and love and acceptance and support remains unconditional, as I should have known. Because I know I am that kind of friend, and I have chosen my friends wisely.

Theater of the Mind

As I sit in the cold stone amphitheater, my mind starts to wander as it often does. The bright sun is now being muted by thin clouds to a fluorescent glow that lights everything, yet robs it of vibrant color. The increase in humidity is palpable, chilling the skin, as the sky continues it's journey to the harsh grays of an approaching fall rain.

The breeze picks up, and as it does, it carries leaves with it, making them jump and dance while following the curve of the long stone and concrete benches. My mind's eye sees a race track in the graceful arching curves of the theater. My imagination scribes images of the different types of leaves lining up in the staring blocks. In lane 1, two time sprint champion Pin Oak. In lane 2, the emaciated looking needles of Lob Lolly Pine. In lane 3, the annoying Spike, a prickly little bomb dropped by the Sweet Gum. Lane 4, the genteel Magnolia, too heavy to win, but graceful in defeat. And finally, in lane 5, Live Oak, in all it's vermilion fall splendor.

The tops of the trees stir with anticipation as the breeze blows up, gathering more of the few race fans remaining in the upper reaches of the stadium, and spreads them around the periphery of seats to watch the spectacle about to unfold. Suddenly, a gust of wind, an acorn falls, cracking loudly on a picnic table, and they're off. Pin Oak surges to an early lead, and all but Spike surge ahead, as he struggles to extract himself from a clump of grass.

Magnolia starts well, but after a few end-over-end tumbles, flattens against a wall and races no more. Loblolly tries vainly to keep up, but just can't hold onto the breeze with it's long thin legs. Its down to a two-leaf race. Stem-and-stem to the wire they race, Pin Oak vs. Red Oak, with Pin winning in a photo finish. They both collapse at the end, one over the other, embracing and congratulating each other for a race well run, neither one a loser.

As my heart starts settling back into my chest after the excitement of the race, a stronger, more continuous breeze sweeps in, drawing my attention back to the amphitheater. My mind changes direction again, and a smile creases my face. The wind is roiling up many more leaves now, pushing them along the rows of seats. Every few seconds, a leaf or three floats up above the rush and settles on a seat. The stirring piano melodies of George Winston's "Colors/Dance" fill my ears, and I see the leaves scurrying to get to their seats before the curtain goes up and the show begins. And I am very glad to be there in the crowd, enjoying the show with them.

Nature puts on a first-rate show, if you only take the time to stop and watch it.

Mental Adjustment / A Squirrel's Life

I woke up this morning with a sore back and a sore shoulder, most likely from a vigorous PT session and a very busy night in the kitchen, coupled with an awkward little slip on a spilled drink as I checked out of work. I iced before bed, and planned a quick trip to the chiro this morning.

As I approached my car, I stopped to watch three squirrels, who were hard at play, chasing each other round-and-round- and up-and-down a tree. The air was cool and crisp. The sky a bright blue, and there was that wonderful smell of fallen leaves. I looked around and thought about nature in our part of the world at this time of year. Slowing down it's metabolism, conserving it's resources. Pulling the comforter around itself for warmth against the approaching winter.

I started my drive, my mind lost in the coming day's work, bills, emotions, and uncertainties. I walked right in to an empty treatment table at the chiro office, and prepared for the coming adjustment. The Dr. asked how I was doing, and we discussed my current issues. He popped my wrist a bit, laid me down on my back and popped and cajoled my shoulder, rolled me over to my stomach and cracked my back and neck, a few quick trigger point clicks on my back. Two minutes or less and I'm feeling better.

As I left, I started thinking that we often need a chiropractic adjustment of the mind. Instead of months or years of therapy, we have to find a way, without drugs, for a quick crack of our minds. A few trigger point mental clicks. A quick twist and release of our subluxated emotions.

Which brings me back to the squirrels. Think about a squirrel. Fast, graceful, playful, mischievous, and seemingly intelligent (except for the insane game of chicken they play with cars). They entertain us with their antics - and seem downright evil if you have a fondness for bird feeders in your yard. Apparently, I had a few in my yard with a fondness for cherry tomatoes. Two summers ago, I had a beautiful, healthy, vibrant container plant on my deck. And the squirrels beat me to every ripe tomato. It was like a game we played. A few would be ripening and I'd think about picking them. I'd give them a close look, and decide to pick them after one more day in the sun. The next morning - only those ripe ones would be gone. And there would be signs of disturb soil in another potted plant - and I'd find a buried, half-eaten tomato.

As I pulled back into my parking spot in front of the tree and turned the engine off. I rolled down the window and sat there a few minutes, taking in the fresh cool air, and staring at the tree. undoubtedly, the squirrels were back into their hectic fall labor of finding and hiding food for the winter. Scampering around with tree nuts, or pine cones. Stopping and looking around with those big, suspicious dark eyes, ears rotating like radar, listening for another thieving squirrel. They are very much like us. Right down to the idiotic games of "chicken" we play with aspects of our lives.

But I think the squirrels have that quick mental chiropractic adjustment thing down pat. Even in the middle of their hectic fall labor. They stop and play many times during the day. They put aside their labors, play with their friends for a little while. Maybe stop at the bird fountain for a drink with a long unseen friend to catch up on family.

I'm sure that some squirrelologist will tell you that it's just instinctive programming, part of their DNA. They are driven to chase and play to develop muscle tone and defensive, elusive skills to avoid being caught up by a predator. And I'm sure that is true to a point. But sit quietly and watch them at play and work. If you look closely - when they play - you can see a little smile.

Communication Blackout

Why do we seem to have the most trouble communicating with the people closest to us ? Logic tells us they should be the easiest to talk to. Is it because the initial exposure or attraction wasn't based on communication, but other factors ? Is it because once we have a vested interest in those close to us, we become so deeply concerned with protecting that interest that we don't take the risk, or leap of faith required to communicate deeply and fully ?

In my limited experience, I've found that friendships or bonds that start with communication, before other factors or experiences are involved, have a solid foundation to build on. Communication flows freely, and the bonds can withstand those moments of candor that often send us hiding.

I think that if we, as a society, were as concerned with teaching communication skills as we are with teaching 8th grade math to 3rd graders and being politically correct, many of our social ills would disappear.

It's a pipe dream, yes. But it's not beyond our reach to affect change in one or two people around us by ending the blackout. it will spread on it's own from there.

Adrift on the Sea of Life

Pressing the rewind and fast forward buttons on our mental DVDs seems easy enough. But during my ongoing journey of self discovery, I have found that these buttons sometime stick, and sometime pause at places other than my intended destination.

This has generally proved to be a good, though often painful, thing. This random pause may be caused by our subconscious need to review an event or time we've consciously chosen to hide from ourselves, or perhaps is that sneaky message from God we've been praying for, or perhaps just an indication that our mental DVD collection is scratched, but hopefully not a sign that the player itself is broken and out of warranty.

As this is my first blog attempt, I'm resisting the urge to go on and on about everything crowding my mind.

Over the past few years, I have been picking random DVDs from my mental library, and trying to see what parts would make good "Best of..." and "Worst of..." collections. And I have discovered at least one common theme that seems to dominate both collections. As I dissected each memory, my overwhelming realization is that I have spent the vast majority of my life as a passenger on a small boat, without oars, rudder, or sails, and the course of my life being determined by the winds, and tides and currents. Observing, enjoying, hating, feeling helpless. Knowing I can break off a piece of the bench and using it as a paddle, calculating directions by the rise and fall of the sun and stars in the sky. And yet paralyzed or mesmerized into just drifting, not willing to accept responsibility for my destination.

Fortunately, the journey is not yet over. I occasionally awake from the trance-like fog before me, and take some action to reassert some control over my direction, and visualize my destination.

The best times are when we drift into the path of fellow travelers, and share our stories, and maybe some tips for a safer and happier journey. Hopefully, we may journey together for a while, sharing discoveries and learning more about ourselves in the process. I do know that taking some control of our direction can make the journey itself as enjoyable as that destination over the horizon.