Finding a Friend

She is a self-proclaimed, literal person. What you see is what you get and to her things need proportions that work well together. She’d spent enough time with me in the 3-D world that I was a person she cared about. I had form that was real and fully filled out.

When she came to visit the virtual version, she said that I wasn’t me.

Not me? You're kidding?

But for her it was true.

It couldn’t be real for her. She said I didn’t talk like this when we sat on her back porch on Saturday evenings drinking wine or when we shared so many Sunday afternoons at restaurant tables discussing the world, creativity, and books.

She had me there.

But . . .

Is that me more me than this me or this me more me than that? Of course not.

But . . .

We find our friends in the sweet psychic place where we meet, by the safe, silent spot where we can be who we are. We long for that, need that, and get to know them and ourselves by and through that place where we meet, that place where we are.

When that goes away, our world is twisted and shaken until we can explain where it went − even then, the loss of that safe, sweet, silent spot remains an absence, an open place we feel. It's something missing that never gets filled unless that very friend finds us again.

Because to express who we are is a gift and a mystery that needs a friend and a a safe, silent spot to find each other in. Our friends hold us, and hold us up, and hold our hands in their hearts without thinking, judging, or looking too closely. It's doing the math without acting mathematically.

She didn't find the safe, silent sharing spot with my virtual me that conversation has built into our lifelong three-dimensional friendship.

But . . .

Every word that I share is an expression of who I am.

All of my words are me −inside and out of our lovely safe silent spot.

Every friend I have sees a different lovely safe, silent spot.

Perhaps we are meant to find a friend for all of the words we need to share.

−me strauss Letting me be