Friends

On kindred spirits and communication

Issue #012

Hello! A teeny, tiny interruption to your weekly read so I can say I am extremely thankful to all my readers, subscribers (of which there are a growing number!) and background motivators. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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In the bustle of the city, the thing that excited us most was a small, square of calm. It was one of those little gardens that— heaven-sent — cropped up in the busiest parts of the capital, as if the city inherently knew that there were people, who, hobbit-like, would run from the furore and chaos that dominated it. We stumbled upon it and promised to come back once we had completed our obligatory tourism.

Which is exactly what we did. Feeling heavy under the heat, lugging our filled backpacks around and slightly overstuffed with food, we traipsed back to the little garden and flopped down in a little circle, dumping our bags unceremoniously.

It was gloriously cool. Trees and shrubbery bordered the little garden, providing shade and privacy at once. It was really a place to breathe in, a place to sink quietly into. Even the other people that were nestled in this little oasis seemed removed from us and enscnonced in their own, private little bubbles.

What this little desire to find quiet really made me think of was kindred spirits. I often think about my friends being threaded somehow to my soul, linked inextricably. One way I can describe it is through the calm that is created when we are in each other’s presence. There is no undue pressure when we are with each other, instead it feels as if we are able to flow easily with each other, whilst at the same time allowing for our individual differences. We are often happy to do the same thing, such as excaping the urban roar for a little slice of nature.

While sitting down, we noticed two older women sitting together and laughing. We remarked that they could be us in the future: grey haired, cackling and stealing moments of feminine energy when they liked. Imagine, I thought, reaching that age with an old friend by your side? I was hopeful and excited to such an extent that I told my friends I would go to speak with them, to tell the two women how much their sisterhood had bolstered our own.

So I did. I spoke to the women, took photos of them together on their phones and saw their eyes sparkle. I have to say that I love the almost unrestrained, unbridled, wicked sense of humour that many women adopt after a certain age. Their cackling is well-deserved after decades of doing the bidding of a society that demands certain roles and attitudes from them.

But, do you know what’s interesting? In talking with them, I found out that they had only been friends for a month or so. They’d met at an ashram only recently and bonded the way women often do: quickly, and with a deep intimacy.

And in the end, it was that the friendship I had with my friends, one that has lasted almost two decades, that was the one to bolster the older women. They were amazed that women who they’d initially mistook as students had already been friends for so long.

I know the friendship I have with women who I have known since we were practically children is a rare and precious one. But, also, how interesting it is that we enter all relationships with assumptions. Although our relationship with these women lasted for the duration of a conversation, it was one that begun with pervceived notions about age and older women, notions that were then broken down into their complex byways and eddies as we communicated.

I wonder, then, how much we would learn about each other if we just listened and spoke with open hearts?