The Islands Ashore
November 22, 2018
One evening a little while back, I decided to contact an old friend. We’d briefly spoken long ago, but after the dust settled, time again passed leaving us partial strangers. The message was simple: “Hey, do you wanna meet up sometime?” The response: “? Not sure who this is.” Once that initial awkwardness was out of the way, we planned to meet for lunch the following Sunday. There was uncertainty about the distance decades create and whether realizing our present selves could tarnish the past. All worries for not. As we sat and shared countless stories, it became clear that despite taking different paths our connection was never really lost. In an odd way, it was as if the intervening years amounted to one long weekend.
We spent the rest of the day out and about, musing over life in general. News of these happenings brought surprise and puzzlement to my inner circle. Turns out what we did isn’t typical. It also turns out not everyone has a good experience reconnecting. More often, people are content to let these alliances fade. Let’s face it: life gets busy – we’ve all got responsibilities – and by the end of the day most want nothing more than to collapse in their nothing space to recover. Not to mention how events can make us more cynical and jaded over time.
(Photo Credit: Gregory Hayes [CC0], Unsplash.com)
Maybe that’s why we’re okay with our chartered islands: it’s a calm, peaceful existence. Besides, if anyone really wants to make contact, they know where to find us. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. Still, discussions with a few folks explored a couple of other possibilities.
Social media now supplies a slow drip to many of these lapsing friendships. It’s a curated space but one often solely entrusted to provide perspective. Trouble is, everything looks better from afar. Another popular idea was that most friendships are situational: two people find themselves in the same space and interact to pass time. Once that space isn’t shared, the fade to acquaintances to well-wishers ensues. By then, many have little interest in bringing out the shock paddles. Almost as if it’s an expected part of moving forward. People change. You change. Or maybe we reveal more of who we already were.
But something my friend said stuck with me. As our previous call was ending he added, “Man, I kinda wish we didn’t have to hang up.” It reminded of a scene from Frequency where Frank and John first talk through the ham radio and wonder near sign-off if they’ll ever be able to get the signal back. Time separates them in this mystical story. A greater abstraction separated us.
(Photo Credit: Jorgen Haland [CC0], Unsplash.com)
When I was in school, a teacher once compared the rest of the Earth to our backyard and urged we not die without seeing it. For some of us the most alluring destination is a place in the mind. One reached by thought as we explore the nuances of existence or travel pages to territories unbound. As George R.R. Martin put it, “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies." Maybe life is more an inner journey.
Now my friend and I have always been different. He’s the type who joins in and I’m the type who reluctantly tags along. Funny how that dynamic works. If not for him, many fond memories would be replaced by ships in bottles. Even so, sometimes empty hulls carry valuable cargo.
(Photo Credit: Dominika Rosecla [CC0], Pexels.com)
Outside the restaurant that afternoon, smiling patrons pass by a neighboring window. Good vibes swept through the crowd, as a light breeze celebrated the changing of seasons. Every attempt to savor the moment returned to a search for meaning. Sitting there, I thought about countless events prior. Sounds that still echo. The grand scheme of things. It all formed a Rubik’s cube I couldn’t put down.
Equally twisting was how disingenuous it seemed being here only in part. I wondered what truths hid within this sea of faces. Were they present, fully absorbed in food and festivity, or were we all unwitting guests at a masquerade party. Either way you’re careful not to knock over the punch. But this preoccupation could explain some people’s increasing absence. Alone is when they feel most like themselves.
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