On the matter of friendship

What is friendship? I have reason to question what it is as of late. All the more, I don’t know that I have ever tried to actually spear the truth of what friendship is.

It seems a lot like love. Misty platitudes abound but none ever condenses its essence. I guess the problem is the same as that of love: the definition depends on whom you ask.

Friendship is shared moments, shared lives. Friendship is an ocean, not a river. It isn’t the size which leads me to name it so. It is the depth. Even a lake is preferable to the river in terms of friendship.

Friendship is measured not by the distance it travels but the depth with which it consists. It, like the great oceans, can only exist in limited quantities. There are many rivers and lakes but few oceans. So it must be with friendship. We cannot attain depth with many people, and frankly few are worth attaining depth with anyway. I find myself agreeing with Aristotle again: “A friend to all is a friend to none.”

For me, friendship is not so different from love. They both seek the good of the other more than the self. Both focus on what they can give rather than receive.

Friendship is a red diamond. It has been said that a true friend is harder to find than true love. I don’t know that I can agree with that but I certainly believe it in part. Regardless of the paucity, when we find a true friend, we must cling tightly to them. They are not easily found.

I suppose in the end I have left the matter as hazy, if not hazier, than the misty platitudes I wrote of earlier. To attempt succinctness, friendship is about depth, of care and shared lives. It can not, not for me, exist without time spent together. Friendship is a flower: water it, feed it, or watch it wither away.


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