My mind has a miraculous, sometimes tedious, characteristic: little things stick in it. I don't will it, but whatever the experience - be it random firing of neurons? karmic imprints? providential manipulations? ... whatever, the little thing remains there stored away and can be recalled when the right time seems to have arrived. I can excel at games of trivia (what does the T.S. stand for in T.S. Elliot?). And sometimes it feels like all my mind is capable of retaining is the trivial, the random ..... but at the same time this ability - gift (disability? curse?) can come in handy.
One such fragment of memory is a short passage from a book I read many years ago by the Canadian critic and newspaper columnist Robert Fulford. The passage is in his memoir, Best Seat in the House: Memoirs of a Lucky Man (1988); it has stuck with me, so now I can share it with you:
"In my experience, friendship begins in the exchange of laughter, and dwindles when easy laughter becomes impossible."
Friendship. Mysterious and sacred. One day evoking gratitude and love, another day exasperation and fury. Anybody who's ever had a friend has probably reflected on the nature of friendship, maybe tried to analyze it ....
Fulford's definition seems as good and true as any I've ever come across. He uses that sentence to introduce his recollections of his friendship, which began in their boyhood, with the famous classical pianist Glen Gould. And it works for him because that's exactly what happened to their friendship - it began when they were boys and ended when their easy laughter became impossible when they were men.
The first thing that occurs to me now is what a great gift it is to have a friendship that continues throughout our lifetime and have it retain the grace of easy mutual laughter. It may wax and wane and suffer through periods of tension, but it can remain and endure. A friendship like that is a gift.
Friendships that begin in childhood often feel permanent and everlasting to us - or at least we feel they should be so. But more often than not, they trail off and fizzle out .... that's the way of this life, no matter how hard we strain against it's cyclical, impermanent nature.
Friendships become painful when we cling to them after the easy laughter becomes impossible. They really cease to be friendships, don't they? They become a duty, a trial, an endurance test - and worst of all, we sometimes lose ourselves in them. Preserving the relationship becomes paramount.
Friendships are supposed to be about fun and comfort and mutual acceptance. The are also a refuge of support when difficulties and challenges arise. We can, and should, reach out to friends when we have difficulties. And although they may give you straight-up feedback and challenge you when you're deceiving yourself or others, they won't judge you.
If you ever find yourself assessing a friendship, wondering whether it's worth preserving and spending energy on, ask yourself, is there an easiness in the relationship? Does it feel like a comfortable place to be? And is there mutual respect?
Or does it feel like work? A duty? Does it feel like I have to measure up? (And most of the time it feels like I don't). Am I walking on eggshells, giving in and making accommodations to the other all the time? Is there a lot of comparison going on?
Was there ever an an exchange of laughter in this friendship? Is it still there?
Or has that exchange of laughter become impossible?
Of course there may be times when an exchange of tears is the central experience of the friendship. But it's during those times you most likely discover that 'laughter' is just a metaphor. And, while the laughter may at times be literally present, what is really there is a mutual respect and acceptance - and attention to one another without judgement.
By the way, T.S. stands for Thomas Sterns. But you knew that.
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