Who We Choose, Who Chooses Us
My beautiful mother and I are about to go on a little hike in Grills Preserve. This should be faboosh, for it is a DAY OF DAYS here in Rhode Island.
The weather is perfect, the sun is shining, I have some time. We even have a day off together! Tonight starts the second weekend of our AS YOU LIKE IT run.
And before I throw on my jeans and superman T-shirt and hiking shoes, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the nature of friendships. Why? I don't know. It's been on my mind.
I've lived here now for about a year and a half. In any new situation, it takes me about a year to make friends. It was that way in children's theatre, in high school, in community college, at Columbia College Chicago, at writing conventions.
Oh, all right, though I met a few friends here and there in the first months of each, the truth is that it took me about five years for the friendsplosion to occur in the convention circuit, and indeed, I never had a LARGE circle of Chicago friends (just a choice few) till Kate the Great's Book Emporium, where I learned to be a hostess of Arts Events, and also joined up with Twilight Tales, and with Team Black Gate, and met the Goblin Girls.
Age 25 is when I went from the close circle I was pretty used to to GLOBAL RELATIONSHIP MAVEN!
Is "maven" the right word?
Well, it rhymes with "raven" SO IT MUST BE!
Back to the point.
It was the same when I moved here. I expected no less. I know myself, especially in the face of a new place and faces. For the first year, I was mostly head-down and buried in writing and exploring and a new job. I had some friends scattered up and down the East Coast, and I was (and am) so pleased to see them every few months, driving an hour or two, or taking the train, or meeting them here for beautiful evenings or weekends.
I felt so much less alone. And their company was the only company I needed, aside from my BEAUTIFUL MOTHER whose company I'd been missing for ten years. One can talk all one likes on the phone, but when one only sees one's beloveds ONCE A YEAR it gets hairy!
And sometimes, over the last year and a half, I'd meet people that I REALLY wanted to be friends with. Right? That recognition? To hear someone talk, or see the spark in their eye, and think, "THIS ONE! The big dark brain of this one! The clever fingers! The kindness! MINE! For my COLLECTION!"
And I can think that all I like, right, but it doesn't mean anything. Because my desires, and the pursuit thereof, are only that. My desires.
It doesn't mean the other person has recognized ME. It doesn't mean that they respond with anything more than a sort of warm and distant courtesy. Or that they'd want to work with me in building this EMPIRE OF THE ARTS, wherein words and music and painting and paper crafts and jewels and perfumes and film media and book-binding and ALL THE THINGS somehow entangle in this marvelous and ever-growing community to make the beautiful palaces in which our minds and hearts dwell.
They've got their own agendas. Their lives are probably pretty full. Maybe they have enough friends. I don't know.
I don't mind so much now, having doors shut (softly, nicely, politely) in my face.
But it does make me pay a leeeetle more attention (my general obliviousness really needs a lot to get its attention) to the people who respond.
Or -- not only respond -- but who are actively inviting ME. Who are saying, by their words, or actions, or even just their constant presence, "Choose me! I'm here! I'm ready and willing and WAITING!"
And they may not be the people I recognized. They may not be the ones I wanted for myself. They may not be the ones I'd've desired, and desiring, chosen to pursue.
But they're THERE.
And that moves me. And it wakes me up some. And though I regret the doors of these brilliant, stand-out, ever-so-collectible individuals shutting in my face, I have to look and see and RECOGNIZE all the doors thrown up to me. Avenues and avenues of them. And allow myself the surprise and pleasure of going where I would not have chosen to go given my druthers. And realizing that my obvious choices, well, were obvious. And that the subtleties are really far more marvelous, the glimmer in the shadows.
There are those people. I am still learning to see them. I must undull my senses and learn to see and respond more quickly.
But until then, I am glad to be waking up.
***
Also - and this is regarding the new acquaintances I've been making at the theatre - it's interesting to sort the people I immediately liked, who sparked right back to me, from the people I liked at first and then backed away from TOTALLY LOVING when I saw a lack of response, from the people I slowly grew to like almost despite myself, from the people I like, who like me, but with whom there's really not a great chance for friendship at the moment. Because of where we are - our lives, our loves, or workdays. I don't know!
But to observe this mass dynamic, as a stranger in a strange land, coming in and inserting (or insinuating?) myself into an established community, has been REALLY INTERESTING.
And I'm trying to learn to accept, with grace, that... mmn... I cannot be all things to all people. That sometimes I can pick and choose. Sometimes I'm picked and chosen. Sometimes (and rarely) IT'S TOTALLY MUTUAL. And sometimes my longings, desires, and more, my... recognition... are unrequited. And that's okay. Because it has to be okay. Because I'm not 11 anymore! And I've learned all kinds of lessons and tools that I can now put to use.
And that it's okay for me, too, being chosen, to also say (gently) in so many words or actions, "I'm sorry. But not just right now, okay? I'm not for you."
That seems strange to write. And ungenerous. I have to think about that some more.
And...
That's what I've been ruminating upon. More or less. There's no knowing how it will all unfurl. Time will tell. And that's rather SPLENDID, isn't it? The surprise?
Goodbye for now, my Flist o' Flists. I'm off to commune with the woods.
***
The weather is perfect, the sun is shining, I have some time. We even have a day off together! Tonight starts the second weekend of our AS YOU LIKE IT run.
And before I throw on my jeans and superman T-shirt and hiking shoes, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the nature of friendships. Why? I don't know. It's been on my mind.
I've lived here now for about a year and a half. In any new situation, it takes me about a year to make friends. It was that way in children's theatre, in high school, in community college, at Columbia College Chicago, at writing conventions.
Oh, all right, though I met a few friends here and there in the first months of each, the truth is that it took me about five years for the friendsplosion to occur in the convention circuit, and indeed, I never had a LARGE circle of Chicago friends (just a choice few) till Kate the Great's Book Emporium, where I learned to be a hostess of Arts Events, and also joined up with Twilight Tales, and with Team Black Gate, and met the Goblin Girls.
Age 25 is when I went from the close circle I was pretty used to to GLOBAL RELATIONSHIP MAVEN!
Is "maven" the right word?
Well, it rhymes with "raven" SO IT MUST BE!
Back to the point.
It was the same when I moved here. I expected no less. I know myself, especially in the face of a new place and faces. For the first year, I was mostly head-down and buried in writing and exploring and a new job. I had some friends scattered up and down the East Coast, and I was (and am) so pleased to see them every few months, driving an hour or two, or taking the train, or meeting them here for beautiful evenings or weekends.
I felt so much less alone. And their company was the only company I needed, aside from my BEAUTIFUL MOTHER whose company I'd been missing for ten years. One can talk all one likes on the phone, but when one only sees one's beloveds ONCE A YEAR it gets hairy!
And sometimes, over the last year and a half, I'd meet people that I REALLY wanted to be friends with. Right? That recognition? To hear someone talk, or see the spark in their eye, and think, "THIS ONE! The big dark brain of this one! The clever fingers! The kindness! MINE! For my COLLECTION!"
And I can think that all I like, right, but it doesn't mean anything. Because my desires, and the pursuit thereof, are only that. My desires.
It doesn't mean the other person has recognized ME. It doesn't mean that they respond with anything more than a sort of warm and distant courtesy. Or that they'd want to work with me in building this EMPIRE OF THE ARTS, wherein words and music and painting and paper crafts and jewels and perfumes and film media and book-binding and ALL THE THINGS somehow entangle in this marvelous and ever-growing community to make the beautiful palaces in which our minds and hearts dwell.
They've got their own agendas. Their lives are probably pretty full. Maybe they have enough friends. I don't know.
I don't mind so much now, having doors shut (softly, nicely, politely) in my face.
But it does make me pay a leeeetle more attention (my general obliviousness really needs a lot to get its attention) to the people who respond.
Or -- not only respond -- but who are actively inviting ME. Who are saying, by their words, or actions, or even just their constant presence, "Choose me! I'm here! I'm ready and willing and WAITING!"
And they may not be the people I recognized. They may not be the ones I wanted for myself. They may not be the ones I'd've desired, and desiring, chosen to pursue.
But they're THERE.
And that moves me. And it wakes me up some. And though I regret the doors of these brilliant, stand-out, ever-so-collectible individuals shutting in my face, I have to look and see and RECOGNIZE all the doors thrown up to me. Avenues and avenues of them. And allow myself the surprise and pleasure of going where I would not have chosen to go given my druthers. And realizing that my obvious choices, well, were obvious. And that the subtleties are really far more marvelous, the glimmer in the shadows.
There are those people. I am still learning to see them. I must undull my senses and learn to see and respond more quickly.
But until then, I am glad to be waking up.
***
Also - and this is regarding the new acquaintances I've been making at the theatre - it's interesting to sort the people I immediately liked, who sparked right back to me, from the people I liked at first and then backed away from TOTALLY LOVING when I saw a lack of response, from the people I slowly grew to like almost despite myself, from the people I like, who like me, but with whom there's really not a great chance for friendship at the moment. Because of where we are - our lives, our loves, or workdays. I don't know!
But to observe this mass dynamic, as a stranger in a strange land, coming in and inserting (or insinuating?) myself into an established community, has been REALLY INTERESTING.
And I'm trying to learn to accept, with grace, that... mmn... I cannot be all things to all people. That sometimes I can pick and choose. Sometimes I'm picked and chosen. Sometimes (and rarely) IT'S TOTALLY MUTUAL. And sometimes my longings, desires, and more, my... recognition... are unrequited. And that's okay. Because it has to be okay. Because I'm not 11 anymore! And I've learned all kinds of lessons and tools that I can now put to use.
And that it's okay for me, too, being chosen, to also say (gently) in so many words or actions, "I'm sorry. But not just right now, okay? I'm not for you."
That seems strange to write. And ungenerous. I have to think about that some more.
And...
That's what I've been ruminating upon. More or less. There's no knowing how it will all unfurl. Time will tell. And that's rather SPLENDID, isn't it? The surprise?
Goodbye for now, my Flist o' Flists. I'm off to commune with the woods.
***