(July 23rd, 2011; revised April 4th, 2012)
Have you, or
has someone you’ve witnessed, ever fallen out of touch with a dear friend,
whether for obvious ugly reasons or for more subtle, gradual ones? I know I’ve
seen this far too many times, personally. Thankfully it has not happened to me
on so many occasions, but I can’t really say the same for most people in
general. From what I’ve witnessed over the years, I think that so many people
are too willing to let go of a connection that should be treasured as nothing else in this world has any right
to be treasured. And especially in this day and age, with the advent of all this
technological prowess, this needs not ever be the case. There is so much opportunity for communication,
and friendly relations with fellow human beings brings so much vast, priceless
beauty into our lives like nothing else can, and only the most extreme of
unfortunate cases should have even the possibility of the power to sever such
incredible connections.
So often people
seem obliged to just sit around and proclaim that a certain person will call or
text them if they “really cared.” But this attitude is woefully
self-righteous, because that other poor person has every right to feel the
exact same way. Does either person really have a more justified reason to
be so stubborn? In some extreme cases, maybe a person has made a dozen calls or
texts or emails or some other method of reaching out that have all
gone unanswered—in this case they may have a strong point, if no reasonable attempts
have succeeded in getting through. If a person is refusing all attempts at
communication, then there’s only so much one can do. But this person could
still keep on keeping on, if only because there may be some legitimate reason
for the lack of communication. In the most dramatic cases it really might just
mean that the other person is simply uninterested in any further communication—unfortunate,
but it happens. In such cases the burden of reciprocity really does fall on
this other person to make some sort of effort in response. You can only reach
out so many times before the very act of doing so becomes such a burden that it
begins to reduce your own feelings of connectedness toward nonexistence.
There should be a balance. If you want to converse with someone, you
should be able to call, text, or otherwise make contact with them with a
reasonably likely chance to be received and
responded to. And if not in a reasonable amount of time, for some valid
reason, then you should be able to expect a return call, text, email, or
whatever other means of communication in the near future. It shouldn’t be a constant
one-sided battle, and it shouldn’t boil down to a persistent stubbornness from
both sides to be the one to receive the effort at some cryptic time of
day. It should be a shared
connection. I don’t think there is a more effective, efficient way to retain such
a blazingly glorious of worldly appreciation. It takes two to truly effectively
converse, and no party should assume the default “advantage.” Ideally, you
would initiate contact with your friend just as much as your friend initiates
contact with you (all other things being equal) and gender, race, age, circumstance,
and the like should not have much of an impact on this ratio.
But yet I’m always hearing complaints from friends that other friends don’t
ever contact them. And I usually ask “well, have you tried contacting
them?” to which there is, most of the time, some half-justified excuse
about having already tried some number of times, without some desired response,
and in most cases this person, the self-proclaimed “victim”, is now just
sitting around and feeling like they shouldn’t have to be expected to make any
more attempts. Fair enough, I suppose, if you really are willing to accept
the likelihood that most of the communication is now over—because that is
the probable outcome with such an attitude. Your own attitude is likely to be
reflected upon the other, and this is one of the many, many situations in which
optimism simply trumps all other mindsets.
There are far too many potential factors that may be involved and may be able
to explain in completely rational and understandable terms why a person has not
been responding as promptly as another person feels they should be. Work,
condition of phone or computer, available funds, family life, and random
disasters are just a few of the more generic examples. But maybe you know,
somehow, that none of these genuine factors are among the underlying reasons
for their lack of response. In this case we are back to where we were earlier,
where at some point the burden of reciprocity falls on them. And while they
might just simply be ignoring you, this is not the most rational and reasonable
thing to assume (and I am assuming that your closer friends would not, by
definition, behave like this toward you). At this point things rely very
heavily on how well you know this
person and how they interact with others (with yourself, most importantly). If
your judge of character is even slightly effective, then you should have already
filtered out such troublesome people. But to be filtered out so early on is a
hefty assumption that such a person is so blatantly obvious in their reckless
relations with friends; most of the time you probably would not have seen this
coming. And so this is an extremely difficult matter to puzzle out. In an ideal
world this simply would not ever be the case, but, alas.
There is another similar yet very different problem, in which someone has not
lost physical contact with a dear
friend but has lost the emotional connection itself. Because there
really are some valid reasons for a loss of contact with another—namely one or
both moving or any number of significant lifestyle changes which may render the
communication practically futile. This is where I categorize most of my own
lost communications. Although I’m not proud of any of them, I understand that
the factors of life just play out in such a way sometimes. I at least have
never been in a fight that drove a friendship away entirely, thank goodness. They
are not tied to any feelings of resentment or other harsh realizations. But the
crucial idea here is that the communication should still be possible;
regardless of the severity of the situation, although something as extreme as a
friend moving thousands of miles away AND somehow losing all communicative resources
does pretty much cancel all possibilities. Of course at this point it’s
literally unavoidable, and so you really have no choice but to move on to those
connections that you actually have some control over. This argument is, of
course, not about those hopeless cases. If they ever did reach back out to you, as their situation improved, things
would rapidly approach normal again.
And so stressed again is the idea that a deep, meaningful connection between
two (or more) people is absolutely precious considering the insane
complexities of any individual mind and the immeasurable factors of this
far-reaching phenomenon of life and the thick, tangled mess of its intertwining
vines of influence in and out among the billions and billions of the
individuals which comprise it. The ranges of interests and mindsets and
thoughts and devotions of the humans inhabiting this world are intense and wildly
eccentric and so I find it one of the most incredible luxuries that any set of
people can really connect on a level deep enough to truly understand and
appreciate each other’s company. Don’t give this up! Don’t let petty
disagreements and unbalanced responsibilities tarnish this most powerful and
meaningful of pursuits. If you have to make the call four times out of five, so
be it. If the other person comes to the same conclusions, and feel like they
are making the call four times out of five, then this won’t even be an issue
because you’ll both be grabbing hold of the reins of communication whenever a
desire is felt and then the only concern that’s left to deal with is when you
both try to call each other at the exact same time and only get set back by a
busy signal (or straight to voicemail, as land lines lose their relevance).
This conscience entanglement with your fellow humans is perhaps the most
valuable commodity on the planet. You can’t get it anywhere else, and its depth
is typically in some way proportional to the time and intensity you’ve spent
with the person. If you drop everyone from your contacts list who hasn’t
independently contacted you within any prior week, or month, then you may soon
find yourself without a single long-lasting friend. Obviously there is some
filtering going on between those friends that don’t necessarily need to say
something on any particular day to remain in your esteem and those friends who
will be remorselessly forgotten after some arbitrary period of non-communication—so
why the extreme differences? Clearly it’s because of the depth of the connection,
and the expectations you have placed on their friendship, but just as clearly
this very depth had to come from somewhere in much the same way these failed
attempts did. And so it comes down to the details that set some certain connections
apart from the rest, and this is where your own judgment truly comes into the
equation, for you can set these parameters to whatever reasonable, considerable
levels you feel are adequate to suit your desires. But be wary, because any
drastic requirements are going to be exaggerated when applied to the real world
full to its brim of unimaginably complex interactions among its inhabitants.
Expecting more out of some people is only going to increase the likelihood that
they will not live up to it. Perhaps it is better to just play it by ear, in a
sense. The frequency with which a person contacts you is just the result of a
complicated chain of causes and effects which somehow trickle down into their
allocation of time and devotion they feel compelled to express toward you. Who
is anyone to demand any more than this?
I really don’t feel like there is any situation in which a person should lose
all hope in another’s eyes—because everybody has the capacity to better
themselves, and not only has this capacity but also the inherent desire to do so. So when presented with the
opportunity to reconnect with a distant acquaintance, no matter the extent of
the distance, be it mental of physical or some combination of both, you should
grant them at the very least the attention necessary to determine whether or
not the prior issues have been improved upon. I like to think that in most cases
this will indeed be true, but in the worst-case scenarios you will (hopefully)
quickly realize whether this really is not the case. And if not, if things
really are still so unfavorable, if the deciding factors have not improved in
any substantial way, then it should be no difficult feat to simply revert back
to the non-communication that existed just before the attempt. But the attempt itself
is absolutely worthwhile. The possibility of a reconnection is priceless
in the face of nothing at all. And you should be always on lookout for
the opportunities to do the same thing—give an old friend a call. Take a browse
through your contacts, and you’ll probably find someone you miss communicating
with. What’s the harm in giving it a shot? They may be one of those people
sitting around wondering why their friends are not taking it upon themselves to
put forth some effort. Frustrating as it may be, it could make the difference
between a friendship slipping away into distant memory and one rekindled by the
simple act of speaking or typing a few friendly, heartfelt words.
I like to reflect upon the lyrics of Richard Marx’s gorgeous song “Better or
Worse,” in which he sings “Everywhere I look around, it seems when things break
down it’s easier to just throw them away. But a promise left to die can
sometimes still surprise, and start breathing in the morning’s lighter day. And
the hearts that learn to bend are the only ones who mend when they’re broken.”
The song may be intended for a romantic couple, but I like to slightly twist
lyrics so that they apply just as well to other similar things. It’s not much
of a leap, really. The same fundamental appreciations exist between friends and
romances; they just reside within different contexts and priorities. But they
apply just as well. He later sings “And I am going to love you, even when it
hurts.” because, well, it is going to
hurt. This hurt can be used to some soul-searching advantages.
A similar idea is expressed in Don Henley’s beautifully written song “Heart of
the Matter” in which he sings “I’ve been trying to get down to the heart of the
matter, but everything changes, and my friends seem to scatter but I think it’s
about forgiveness… even if you don’t love me anymore.”
And Aaron Lewis
sings his heart out in his first solo album’s song titled “Vicious Circles”
when he croons “We run in vicious circles until we’re dizzy with disdain, and
there’s miles and miles between us, yet we still remain.” Because once you’ve
established such a connection, it doesn’t matter where in the world you move
to, or what you do, or how much time passes between communications—your memory
has recorded the companionship, and your lifestyle has been affected in some
way so that the potential will always remain. Nothing but your own stubbornness
or unwillingness will keep this from you, provided the other party returns the
efforts in even the smallest imaginable fashion.
These masters of poetic thoughts have captured the essence of this idea, that
there are incredibly valuable factors running much, much deeper than one’s
desire to be the center of attention in a relationship. Problems should be
considered, addressed, and mutually sought after for correction. Trials
effectively dealt with will help to weave the threads ever more powerfully. If
some friends have wronged you in some way, as long as it has not been so
profoundly horrible as to cause you to curse their name for all time, then
forgiveness is always a viable option. It’s okay to hurt over somebody. It’s
okay to miss their face, their laughter, and their joking mannerisms. It’s okay
to long for the time when it seemed as if hardly anything was ever on their
mind but to find out where you were and what you were doing, and to offer their
company or invite you to theirs. These are positive
hurts, because it reminds you of how much another person ever meant to you.
And just imagine how many people might be feeling the same way about you.
If you are clutching the tattered threads of a dear friendship in your hands,
realizing the damage that has been done before it’s too late, then before the
connection is severed completely you have every reason and every opportunity to
reweave the fragile, precious strands into an even more powerful bond. Do this
carefully, and do it together, and the strengths of this connection have every
right to be more deeply entwined and as stable as possible. Sometimes all it
takes is a humble acceptance of a shortcoming on your own part (and perhaps
also their humble acceptance of a shortcoming on their part), and the stage is
set for the possibility of a revival of a truly personalized partnership unlike
anything you can find anywhere else. The uniqueness of each individual means
that every single such connection is remarkably valuable in its own right, and
cannot be substituted in any other way. Each one is unimaginably precious and
should only be discounted entirely under the most extreme unfortunate
circumstances when nothing within reason can be done by either party.
I think that the nature of these connections—which require so much effort from
all sides involved—simultaneously makes them extremely difficult to establish
and maintain but by the very same nature they are luxuries far more valuable
than any worldly possession you can ever get your hands on. So don’t let them
go so easily. Fight to keep at least some strand of friendship between yourself
and anybody whose companionship you have ever
appreciated. You will never find the same connections again, but you can build
up throughout your time on the Earth as many intertwining threads as you are
willing to keep hold of and weave as intricate and as powerful a rope as you
are willing to put effort into. This rope, signifying so many relations you
hold so dear with our fellow members of humanity, will always be there to hold
on to, to grasp when life takes one of its unfortunate turns, there to help you
right yourself and appreciate the things that truly matter because they truly care about you. And your life
will be demonstrably fuller and more meaningful and more rewarding because of
your efforts, and by these efforts so many countless other lives will be just as
demonstrably fuller and more meaningful as well. Because, of course, just as
you will benefit from their devotions, so will each of these recipients benefit
in kind, because of you and
your efforts, and the incredible sum of joys and sorrows and memories
that are yours to share together if you would only work together to reweave the
tattered threads of a once-flourishing bond of friendship.