A Season for Everything

“Some closing of the gates is inevitable after thirty, if the mind is to become a creative power.”~ E.M. Forster

This past weekend, one of my close friends went on a spiritual retreat she attends several times a year, and decided to share the trip with another friend who occasionally travels with her. During this particular trip, she had a surprise –another friend she had not seen in years decided to ride along.

Once she got past the initial shock, she was happy this opportunity had opened for her to find resolution to a personal conflict. Four years ago, she and this friend had come to a halt in their relationship for no apparent reason, and she never could figure out exactly what happened that drove her friend away.

The drive was for the most part uneventful, the soft rhythmic rumble of the engine interrupted only by the voices of the other two women excitedly chatting away and catching up. Focused on driving, and not much interested in the daily dramas being discussed, my friend avoided large part of the conversation and listened instead.

From the time their ways parted, their lives had evolved in such different directions that it was almost impossible to find anything left in common. During the trip, finally, my friend found the resolution she had waited several years for – nothing drastic had occurred when their friendship ended, no one had argued over anything, and no harsh words had come in between them; their friendship had simply run its course, and had come to an end.

It happens, sometimes, that relationships fall apart without an apparent reason, leaving one or more of the people involved fishing for answers, or wondering if they are at fault in the dissolution.

Some people are in our lives to stay, and their role is often one of mutual support, while some others only briefly cross paths with us to facilitate the learning of a specific lesson. When the lesson is assimilated – whether that milestone is integrated into our conscious perception or not – the person walks away and our paths diverge once again; they were never meant to run together, but only to merge for a short while.

Some of the ‘temporary people’ in our lives can enter the stage at the most unexpected moments, and their arrival and brief stay – as well as their often dramatic exit - have the power to upset the natural order of things, or to trigger a change by initially turning our lives upside down.

In my friend’s case, when the former friend walked out, curiosity surrounding the fallout was the main reason for her leaving the door ajar all this time. When she met the other woman again, she realized she had no hard feelings for her at all; in fact, she wished her well on her way. Nothing was ever really wrong; they were only two very different people whose lives briefly connected for reasons to them unknown. Their time together was over many years before, and finally my friend was able to lay the matter to rest. With that door finally closing she allowed herself to free up her perception while waiting for new things to take the place of something that no longer served her in the present.

The Boy and the Duck

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We are born, we live a little, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.” ~ E. B. White

My son Michael loves fishing. That boy could sit on the bank of a pond the whole day, thoughts wandering to distant worlds as he waits for fish to bite. During his outings to the pond, a tiny body of water in the middle of a neighborhood like many others, surrounded by pretty homes and a newly installed wooden gazebo, Michael has made an unusual friend – Alfred the duck. Several weeks ago, Alfred had a friend, another duck which, like him, seemed to have missed the bus going south. Both ducks stayed around the pond, using the spillway for shelter, but lately Alfred’s friend has been missing, and nobody seems to know what happened to it.

Over time, Alfred has warmed up to Michael. At first, a little apprehensive about the intentions of this young boy trespassing on his territory, he hissed and ran off, waddling the way ducks do; but, once he realized that Michael meant no harm - and was in fact bringing an offering of peace in the shape of bread – he gradually came a little closer each day.

Yesterday, Michael asked to go fishing at about five o’clock, and since his brother didn’t want to go with him, I grabbed a book and we drove down to the pond. On our way out we made sure to bring some bread for Alfred. I pulled my car by the edge of the pond behind the spillway, and made myself comfortable in the seat while Michael got out of the car, fishing rod over his shoulder and bread in his hand. He stopped by the entrance of the spillway and called Alfred; after a moment the little bundle of white feathers emerged and followed Michael to his chosen spot on the other side of the pond.

My original intention was to read while I waited, but what was unfolding outside the car was so endearing that I put the book down and just watched.

Michael got his fishing rod ready and prepared to cast, while Alfred supervised by the edge of the pond; when Michael sat down, the duck went to settle beside him. I saw Michael feed him a few pieces of bread, which he gobbled eagerly but not aggressively; even after the bread was gone, Alfred continued to sit by him. When Michael caught a small fish and stood up to reel it in, the duck walked over and stood beside him. After about an hour, Michael was done fishing for the day. He walked back toward the car, and Alfred waddled back with him, side by side. When they reached the entrance of the spillway, Alfred went in and Michael continued to walk after telling his little friend goodbye for the evening.

I never got to read a single page of my book in that hour, but what I saw warmed my heart – friends comes in many packages, sometimes even in the likes of a lonely white duck named Alfred.

The Kitten and The Crow

Since early childhood, we are conditioned to classify everything we run across, especially people we meet on our journey. Although some of us benefit from an upbringing which allows a few shades of gray in between, the majority are most often inclined toward a much defined distinction.

We are taught that some people are our friends, and others are enemies; some are good and some are evil; many are worthy of receiving our trust and just as many are not. Our judgment of individuals and situations is often based on criteria we have inherited from our caregivers, tossed with a sprinkle of personal experiences.

Would our reaction be the same, had we been taught differently? Could we be more willing to trust some that don’t readily fit into our mold of acceptance, if we hadn’t been trained to immediately qualify and quantify those we meet? Is our tolerance for others dictated by nature, or is it a product of nurture?

A very unusual couple of friends – a kitten and a young crow – teach us that it is possible to trust and love someone we would normally consider an enemy. The following video is a bit lengthy, but definitely worth watching. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JiJzqXxgxo

I would assume that when their paths first crossed, the crow and the kitten were both lost and uncertain how to feel – each of them was a blank board. Since neither could rely on the guidance of an adult of their species, they followed their natural instincts in judging one another.

Each of them was naturally geared to have quite dissimilar lives and needs, yet, without a teacher pushing them to focus on their differences, they were able to establish a common denominator: their individual need for love and nurturing common to all species.

It is possible to rise above pre-set standards and see that blessings can be found in the most unexpected of places. Inside each enemy lives a potential friend we haven’t met yet, if we can just look past the obvious and “see” with our hearts. The kitten and the crow would certainly vouch for that.