Friendship is the Mothership

By Mari Gayatri Stein

Yes, we are primordially alone in this mystery of life and yes, we all need to be self sufficient. Still, there are at least three things I cannot imagine—life without my friends, life without my dogs and life without a good cup of tea.
Some of us consider our family members to be our friends. More often, our friendships afford us the love and succor our families don’t. Our concepts, familial roles and responsibilities tether us, while the friendships and alliances we choose are made to order.

All relationships have assets and liabilities. The sustaining and nurturing of friendships require commitment, acceptance, devotion, time, energy, faith, humor, flexibility and unconditional love.

Some of my comrades fall into the category of the all-weather variety. Years may pass between encounters; we may be distant geographically; but as soon as we meet, all those hours and miles dissolve. We effortlessly pick up where we left off. A true friend is always a part of your heart.

Good friendships are spacious. A friend celebrates your eccentricities and revels in your success as though it were her own. We share our losses and help to anchor each other when we feel adrift. At the same time, we gaze with patience and benevolence when faced with a friend’s most irritating behaviors, character defects and mistakes. We instinctively intervene when a friend is in harm’s way, even at the risk of being unpopular. We act altruistically. Friendship opens our eyes to the truth of interbeing, the freedom of forgiveness and the creative rapture of giving and taking without keeping books. Unselfconsciously, we reveal our innermost secrets and wince waves and are unafraid to serve up our foibles without apology.

Some chums I call on a lark. Others are comforters, playmates, late night confiders, calmer-downers, lifter-uppers, advisors in love, finance and the care of a dog or cat. On some occasions I am the soother, on others, the soothee. My old friend John and I have have mental telepathy. When he comes to mind, I know the phone is about to ring.

We each have a design for living and loving—unique gifts to offer. One friend might have the wherewithal to contain your sorrow and hold you until your crying wears itself out. With another, you can laugh in the face of adversity. Even when our intimacy does not include tangibly touching, our fiery spirits ignite one another. In the company of a friend, time is suspended. Friends help us to forgive ourselves, prevail in the face of injustice and cope when dirty deeds cause a stink. Like the exchange of breath with Mother Nature, the reciprocity in friendship generates its own momentum, and is its own reward.

Before my open heart surgery, women I hadn’t seen in years flew in to lay eyes upon me and enfold me in their arms. My old friend Rochelle had dreamed I was in peril and resourcefully tracked me down through the internet. Another girlfriend arrived with purple capes, dragonfly earrings, beeswax candles, incense and old photographs taken during our reckless and alluring twenties.

During those languid summer days, my girlfriends and I spoke of love and death and shared delicious moments navigating the turbulent emotional currents brought on by life’s unpredictable tidal waves. Laughing and weeping, we recounted our past adventures and fearlessly discussed the daunting task ahead. Immersed in the world of the senses, we walked, swam, sipped tea and read my sensuous poetry aloud under the willows, while scarfing up Greek olives, fresh mozzarella, crusty bread, succulent figs and bittersweet chocolate without a thought to our waistlines. Yes, my dogs were in tow.

When I was in the hospital, new friends rallied at my bedside. (I have always thought that visiting a friend in the hospital and picking a pal up at the airport are tasks of courage nonpareil.) Looking down at my Frankinstein torso with undisguised terror, they offered their love and support. Here I was, their normally unstoppable, indomitable mentor and ally down for the long count, unable even to sit up without a helping hand to lift me. Bosom buddies phoned and sent prayers from afar. My husband stood vigil, served up the news, offered reassurance and summoned a superhuman strength. Our four dogs remained on alert. Man and beast were friends and family alike.

The flowers of our friendships are sweet indeed. They bloom on tenaciously and reseed themselves over and again. They weather the elements and when threatened by extinction reassert themselves in the form of a new hybrid. Coming together and moving apart with grace is the way of friendship. Sheltered by mutual trust and understanding, we dwell in our natural perfection. When we look into the soul of a friend, we see our own smiling reflection.

Now—let’s brew some tea, bring on the dogs and we’re good to go.