Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts

Monday, September 15, 2014

To think of genuine friendship...



I have had great cause to think of what friendship truly is in the past weeks...to reexamine its nature and fundamental character. I was provoked to extreme depth of thought about it by a question that occurred to me after a discussion in a public forum. The discussion forced me into the recognition of some diametrically opposite views that reflected such radically different values and beliefs than mine that I was left shaken by the discovery that my "friends" could think the way they do. Perhaps I'd guessed that we were on different sides of the aisle politically but in the past, that hasn't affected the friendship that I thought existed between us. With a few people - those for whom their political views are not a major priority - I've simply agreed to disagree and we've left all discussions of that nature out of our "friendship" equation and confined our public comments towards each other to our artistic endeavors. But what does that actually mean in terms of the nature of that friendship? 

I struggle with this issue even within my family and among people I know personally rather than just on the internet. [That's not to say internet friendships can't be or are not "real." I believe they are]. But I've realized that what I'm calling friendship in most cases is no more than casual acquaintance or what Aristotle called relationships of utility or pleasure rather than the extremely rare "true friendship." I do not believe that it is possible to truly call someone a friend whose views and values are completely antithetical to my own. I'm not speaking about political views in an election year - I'm speaking about the fundamental values reflected in the memes we share or the political comments we make. I'm speaking about the basic philosophy represented by our political statements. My political leanings arise from my fundamental world view on human rights and human dignity, on justice and injustice, on communal rather than individual rights. In other words, I cannot separate my political philosophy from who I am as a person and in likewise fashion, I cannot separate another person's political statements and philosophy from who he/she is as a person. I cannot disassociate those statements from another's fundamental character. That brings me back to friendship.

Aristotle in his monumental "Nicomachean Ethics" discusses friendship at length. He "divides friendship into three sorts: friends for pleasure; friends for benefit; and true friends. To the former belong those sorts of social bonds that are established to enjoy one’s spare time, e.g. friends for sports or hobbies, friends for dining, or for partying. In the second are included all those bonds whose cultivation is primarily motivated by work-related reasons or by civic duties, such as being friend with your colleagues and neighbors." (philosophy.about.com) But true friends are virtuous friends, seeking the good of self and other and growth in virtue and such friendships assume an existing level of virtue in one's own character and in the other. Genuine friends, says the great philosopher,"serve as human mirrors in which one can better see one's own virtue...they are a single soul dwelling in two bodies." They are indispensable to self-knowledge and that is necessary for growth in virtue, the definition of the "good life." Or as Cicero put it, "A true friend is a second self." 

Why, then, would one seek a "friendship" with a person who is so completely opposite to the person one believes himself/herself to be or wishes to be? More importantly, why would a person whose values are so opposed to my own wish to be my friend in the first place? For utility? Does that person gain something by association with me? For pleasure? Do I entertain, share jokes with, or pursue similar activities? It is important that I recognize which of the three kinds of friends a person might be so I do not feel so betrayed when I see that person for who he/she really is. The sudden realization that one has been totally wrong about another person smashes that "mirror" and causes us to doubt our own virtue, asking, "how could I have mistaken that person for someone I could admire or wish to have as a friend?" How could my judgment have been so flawed?


That is not to say that one has to cut off all ties with friends of utility or friends of pleasure. It's just that one must be honest enough to identify those relationships for what they are. I can continue with those "friendships" but only to the point where to do so would compromise my self-knowledge and virtue or damage my true friendships. True friendship is the rarest of all forms of love - certainly rarer than romantic or physical love. So it stands to reason, that in one's lifetime, one might have only one or two true friends. Absence, distance, time have little effect on true friendship unless one of the friends undergoes some radical change in beliefs and values. Genuine friends continue to grow in those qualities deemed most significant and virtuous and to encourage that same growth in the other. When I look at my friend, I see the kind of person I want to be and I strive for that kind of goodness. 


Emerson said there were two elemental criteria for genuine friendship - truth and tenderness. He wrote, in his essay on friendship, said, "A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him, I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with...simplicity and wholeness..." He decried the superficiality and self-promotional ego-stroking, "the chat of the markets or the reading room," that he considered "an injustice against true friendship," long before social media made such things the basis for pseudo-friendships. Truth does not mean that friends think exactly the same about everything. There is ample room for some difference of thought.  "Emerson points out that the most valuable friendships don’t spring from a filter bubble of like-mindedness but, rather, from the perfect osmosis of shared values and just enough discrepancy in tastes and sensibilities to broaden our horizons" (Popova, Maria. Truth and Tenderness: Ralph Waldo Emerson on Friendship and Its Two Essential Conditions, 8/13/14)  


These differences, therefore, enable us to reach for the next most virtuous position we might achieve, to look more deeply into a value, an event, a point of view, and so share even more closely the values of our friend. To maintain a relationship in the face of too great a difference between you, however, is not the mark of friendship. While culturally I might have to accept and respect that each person has the right to his/her own opinion, I do not need to class as true friends those persons who have no respect for truth or whose own views reflect positions that I believe philosophically are detrimental to civil and virtuous society. To do so would be to violate my own sense of integrity. We are known, as the old adage goes, by our "friends." I do not want to know myself or be known as holding views that to me seem abhorrent simply because I want to keep calling someone friend or to add another person to my list on some social media site. Nor would I want others to call me friend who find my views abhorrent or a violation of their own ethical code. Instead, I will be ever grateful for the very few rare souls I know to be genuinely friends - and those are few and rare indeed. Charles Darwin said, "A man's friendships are one of the best measures of his worth" and Thomas Fuller even more adamantly argued, "If you have one true friend, you have more than your share." I count myself rich indeed and know that in my few really close and genuine friendships I have had and have far more than my share, for that kind of friendship is more precious than jewels. I am more than content to have my worth measured by those friends. 



River Reflections




Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Gifts from the Sea

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its nets of wonder forever.
Jacques Cousteau
Between Sea and Shore 
(I know I've posted this image before but it fits the post best!)

Some days, my longing for the sea is palpable. Today is one of them...a gray, rainy day, the first of several this week...and I can think of nothing I'd rather be doing than walking along the beach at Cape Cod or Cape May, or Rehobeth, La Jolla, even Galveston before the summer crowds descend. The ocean in all its many moods and guises has always been a metaphor for my life's journey and there are times only those hours alone on a quiet beach can help me to decipher the lessons along the way. Some years ago I picked up a stone on the shore at Race Point, one of those diamond days - so perfect you could never forget it, shared as it was with my dearest friend. I've kept the stone for all these years and carry it with me to remind me of all the sea has to tell me.
  
THE WORRY STONE

I carry it in my pocket,
roll it around there letting
it shift from palm to fingers,
trace its contours with my thumb
and remember the day I
picked it up at the beach,
that brilliantly sunny
afternoon at Race Point…
how it caught my eye
amidst all the other pebbles
because it was not yet
perfectly smooth, though
quite well-polished, different
in hue and composition
from an ordinary stone,
a worn conglomerate
of sparkling quartz and
dull gray limestone,
one  black clast of obsidian
distorting the smoothness.
My thumb catches the fragment,
worries it, like one worries
a broken tooth with the tongue,
feeling the irregularity there,
probing it with questions -

what long journey has this stone
made to find itself on this shore?
How was it shaped by that voyage,
battered, abraded and pounded,
its rough edges worn down,
by long ages of pressure,
the travel across distant seas
cementing together all
the disparate metals and minerals,
compressed now into one
remarkable and unique stone.
I carry it with me in my pocket
and worry it with my thumb
to remind me of my own
uniqueness, melded from all
the separate pieces of self,
light and dark, rough edges
scoured by the unrelenting rhythm
of life’s ocean into a new whole
that is finally becoming me. 

Perhaps I'll get back to the sea this summer - but even if I don't, it's always in my heart, always reminding me that some things are eternal, that there is an ebb and flow to life that one must learn to accept. But like the tide...what seems gone will return...and find me waiting. 




Monday, April 21, 2014

Of virtual friendships, shared emotions and a tribute

I like to connect to people in the virtual world, exchanging thoughts and ideas, when in the physical world we might never have the opportunity to cross paths.

There is a lot of talk these days about the superficiality of social media - the silly tweets about going shopping or taking a shower or getting caught up in some media/celebrity frenzy that says little of substance about who we are. I've heard some say that virtual relationships are not real - that one cannot trust them because people can assume a persona that is nothing like the person they "really" are. And that's true in some respects. People can pretend to be other than who they really are; people can use social media just as a means of attention-seeking; people can substitute superficial virtual relationships for the real thing because for one reason or another they are detached from the real world.  I don't deny any of that. 

But there is another truth regarding relationships forged and maintained through social media and a virtual environment. I've commented on it before and several of you have told me that  your marriages are a result of "meeting" someone online. I know, too, that some of you have made friendships that have lasted many years and are deeper than some you've had in the "real" world. That is certainly the case for me. Friendship is precious to me - whether it's in the physical world or the virtual one and these days, thanks to technology the line between the two can be very blurry. Skype allows us to see and speak to our "virtual" friends - as does Yahoo voice and video and other such services. I used to speak to a friend in London weekly and I prepared for that in the same way as I might have prepared for her to visit in person - I dressed for company, did my hair and makeup, tidied up the space around me, had my coffee ready to sit down together and be "present" to my friend. 

Emerson once wrote an essay on friendship in which he said, "I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. Shall I not call God the Beautiful, who daily showeth himself so to me in his gifts? I chide society, I embrace solitude, and yet I am not so ungrateful as not to see the wise, the lovely, and the noble-minded, as from time to time they pass my gate. Who hears me, who understands me, becomes mine, — a possession for all time." I feel that way about my "virtual" friends, too. I may choose or be forced into a somewhat isolated life for reasons of health or circumstance, but I honestly believe that my online friends know me, hear me and understand me every bit as well or better than others in the "real" world. 

Which brings me to the reason for posting again on a topic I've spoken of before - the shared emotions in those virtual exchanges. One might wonder how you can actually "feel" someone else's pain or sorrow when you can't look upon their face, or when you are simply reading their posts. And yet who among us would deny that we do. I've had friends who have reached out to me when they were terribly depressed and just needed someone to "talk" to and I've done the same. In this past week or so, friends I met on various art sites have posted on Facebook about personal loss - the deaths of beloved parents, the serious illness or frightening surgery they are facing themselves, the discouragement they feel about their job search or art careers, etc. I think we "write" our emotions more carefully in the virtual world - and express more clearly what it is we feel and need from our friends. I think we are even more generous with support, encouragement, prayers and positive thinking than we might be otherwise. 

This weekend, members of the art site, BlueCanvas, met in a way we used to meet - in a weekend forum where we shared features, poems, music, awards, congratulated and supported each other, talked about our lives at many levels and deepened our regard and appreciation of one another. That "BLUE Lounge" forum has not taken place for over a year - most of us have pursued other outlets for one reason or another, or our lives have pulled us away from that forum because of work or health or caregiving. And truthfully, the person who created that venue, carried too much of the burden of keeping the forum going - something those of you who host groups on other sites can appreciate, I'm sure. Nonetheless, this weekend, at the request of a number of old regulars, the BLUE Lounge opened again for an extended tribute to a FRIEND we lost recently - a friend almost none of us have ever met personally but whom we all loved and cherished. Our sense of loss is real, our grief is real, our desire to share that emotional response with one another, others whom we have never met either but love equally, is real. Thank you to my FRIENDS Berns, Chris and Foti and especially to Rosie for making this tribute to Aldolfo Hector Penas Alvarado possible and for reminding us of just how precious our virtual friendships are.

For Adolfo:

THE SILENT STONES
The lowering sky is mourning
gray and somber above 
the silent stones that mark
your coming and your going.
They speak naught of who
you were and yet still are -
father, son, brother, spouse,
mother, daughter, sister, spouse.
What says the marble slab of
that which only I could know?
The blessing that your were?
The joy that only you could bring?
An eloquent language of silence
drowns out the syntax
of the wind, though it lifts me
upon its transcendent current
to some place above, beyond,
farther still - past all the limits
of time or space or language
itself - past thought or sentience,
in sacred consummation,
in ecstatic communion
with your eternal thou
not bound to ashes now interred
beneath the silent stones
that bear your names. 

© Lianne Schneider 2010



Monday, January 20, 2014

Kindred spirits - the art and virtue of communion


“The deepest of level of communication is not communication, but communion.
It is wordless ... beyond speech ... beyond concept.”
Thomas Merton

Seeking the Last Light


Communion. I’ve always loved this word…not because of its religious connotation but because of its derivation and primary meaning as “the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, esp. when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level.” Wiktionary.com explains the etymology of the word as “from Old French comunion, from Latin commūniō (“communion”), from cum (“with”) + mūnus (“gift”). Used as a noun to mean, “a joining together of minds or spirits.” We’ve probably all used the verb form “to commune” in reference to our being outside trying to stay in touch with nature. So it makes perfect sense that a hero should need such a virtue to complete his/her sacred quest – for what good is the first part of the journey to self-awareness, coming to that deep knowing of self, if we never know how to share that gift of self with another. That is the whole point of the second half of the quest.

Communion, says Sam Keen, is the medicine that cures us of the feeling that we are alone in our struggles or that if people knew us deeply, they would not like us. Loneliness is one of the worst “dis-eases” of contemporary society because we are so caught up with getting, spending, entertaining ourselves that we “inevitably feel alienated when we do not live within a circle of friends, within the arms of the family, within the conversation of a community.” That “communion” is more and more difficult to achieve it seems. As I mentioned yesterday, the internet, social media like Facebook and Twitter, allows us to pretend to intimacy we may not feel. Our instincts tell us that friendships take time but we are so hungry for connection, we may ignore our own caution lights. Families are scattered, fractured and often dysfunctional so not enough of us find our communion there. [For those who do, get down on your knees or raise a cheer of gratitude…you are blessed]. Work and family obligations may keep us from finding or creating communities in which we can have those lasting, bonding, revealing conversations.

Perhaps that’s why we blog. And very likely it is why as artists and writers, we seek out others engaged in the same creative arts and rather than just post and run, we join “groups” and get involved in the “community” aspect of the internet sites to which we belong.

Paul Martin, author of The Teacher’s View blog (http://plmartinwrite.blogspot.com), expresses the deep connection – the communion - between the artist/writer and the viewer/reader this way, “…art requires three things: the artist, the object, and the viewer. It is only through the communion of these three that the art is fully realized.” He goes on to say that “Writers write to be read and anyone who would say otherwise is a liar.” That reminded me of the little Samuel Johnson quote on my Nook reader cover – “A writer only begins a book – a reader finishes it.”  Unread poems, unread stories  are dead poems and dead stories and the paper on which they are written might as well be burned up in a conflagration like Fahrenheit 451. But, in truth, I think exactly the same thing is true of visual arts. Each of us only begins the art work we present – it is incomplete and virtually meaningless unless someone sees it and responds to it in some kind of dialectical communion of minds and hearts. Through my art and writing, I am asking to be known, accepted and liked…and cherished. I’ve shared myself – left myself vulnerable to rejection, attack or condemnation as much as to praise. I’ve offered the only gift that is truly mine to offer – myself – and I’m asking you…the reader or the viewer of my poems or paintings, to welcome me in to a communion of the minds and perhaps hearts too.

Art or writing may be, as I said in an earlier post, a solitary endeavor in the doing. But without communion, the art is meaningless and the sacred quest is too lonely to be borne.


References:



Keen, Sam. (1992, April). Fire in the Belly: On Being a Man. Bantam Books, New York, NY.

Martin, Paul. (2012) The Teacher's View. [Blogpost] http://plmartinwrite.blogspot.com