A man’s friendships are one of the best measures of his worth, Charles Darwin once wrote. Well, dear reader, we’ve all been in short supply of friends over the last 15 months. Instead of the heady excitement of meeting pals, we’ve been reduced to calls and texts.
n an unreal world of a pandemic, the vacancy of friends from our lives has left a huge hole not just in our social lives, but in our sense of self.
I’m a person who values my social contacts. I have a regular list of contacts I call each week to discuss life.
I once learned an old trick from a farming neighbour that if you have a few different friends, you won’t annoy everyone by calling them all the time. You spread yourself over a few friends and share the load or, in the case of the pandemic, the burden.
It’s a theory that has helped me get through the lockdowns and I’ve never treasured my mobile phone more. However, there comes a point when texts and phone calls just don’t cut it anymore, when we need to be in the presence of another soul and see them in the flesh.
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It was with a great sense of excitement that we welcomed a couple of friends to our back garden last weekend. All the rules were obeyed but, by God, was it a wonderful experience.
We were preparing for the visit all week, buying food and beer because the simple fact is we haven’t seen any friends in months. The house was cleaned from top to bottom, the garden lawn mowed and pruned, and the outdoor furniture cleaned and made ready.
The visit was an occasion to blow off some steam; a meeting to share our lives, as we did in old times.
Our friends drove down from Kildare and arrived at lunchtime. We ate outside in the sun, enjoying pasta and drinks. The experience reminded me of what Seneca wrote centuries ago, that when we admit a person to our friendship circle, we welcome them with all our hearts and soul.
It is perhaps Seneca’s second comment that strikes an even deeper, more profound blow that with a friend, we can speak as boldly with them as we do with ourselves.
It is that authenticity we all need, that honesty that allows us to open ourselves up to truth, where we can truly share how life is going.
As Seneca says, regard him as loyal and you will make him loyal.
That was the feeling I had upon this visit, for things were said that had not been said in months. My wife and I shared our joys and setbacks with them. It allowed all of us to take a break from the Covid treadmill and the career treadmill and talk about what was really going on.
Don’t get me wrong, our families are deeply important and have been in these Covid times, but our friendships allow us to open up in different ways, and in that opening up there is a relaxation.
We Irish have a name for this type of exchange, this type of friendship. They are our anam cairde – our soul friends. It’s an idea that poet and philosopher John O’Donohue talked about in his book Anam Cara. And though ‘anam cara’ initially referred to a religious relationship, it has changed in the intervening centuries.
In the work, O’Donohue says that having an anam cara is an act of recognition and belonging. When you have a soul friend, your friendship cuts across all convention, morality and category. In short, he says that the art of “belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship”.
O’Donohue goes on to say that when you have a friend – a soul friend, as all good friends are – you are understood without masks or pretension.
Having someone, or more than one, in your life who you can share the burden with makes life all the better, all the richer.
When we shared our joys and burdens with friends in the garden last Saturday, it was part confession, part wonder in knowing that you were heard and seen. It was special that the gift of friendship still held, even after so many months of lockdown.
There were moments of silence, too, when we remembered those not so fortunate, who have not had the chance to come through the pandemic. We also acknowledged those who are still alone or indeed suffering with the virus, or a lost job or financial burdens arising from the pandemic.
In being truly seen by our friends, perhaps we can truly be one with ourselves and come to peace with the tumultuous times we have all lived through.
As we sat in the garden and righted the world, there was a feeling of old times about it. That perhaps soon all this will be over. That we can at last put the tragedy of the last year behind us and move forward toward new lives – ones that have grown, and friendships that have deepened.
Our friends are getting married soon and now, with the restrictions lifting, we can again share in their lives in the way we were meant to.
Friendship lifts us. It shows us that we are not designed to be alone. On leaving that evening, my friend said it had recharged him, that time in the garden had felt like the real start of summer and would be something that he thought about in the coming weeks.
It was food for the soul in that garden. It’s a food I hope you too get to savour during the season we are about to share in. Here’s to the coming good times.