[I Take My Tea with Friends] on Friendship

            All bonds, even those of irregular syntax, are especial in their own unique manner. The American Essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson quotes, “That we must be our own before we are another’s,” denoting friendship as an extension of how we feel about ourselves projected onto another beloved, kindred spirit, and that the only way to have a friend is “to be one.”

            In societies rife with deception, trending cuckolding, “open” relationships, passive jealousy and uncompromised, unresolved grapples left to fester, a solid friendship that survives every known obstacle known to frequent human relations and colliding personalities, are they more glorious a feat.

            “I woke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new;” the old endured/endures, proven supportive, substantial, inseparable as a spinal tumor entangling the vertebrae; the new, the aspiring to connect, hopeful, yet-proving, receptive.

            There is so much to praise about friendship; the diversity of friends, which always provides different cultural upbringings, languages, religions, traditions, foods, behavorism, all of which are soon understood and privy to someone who studies another to better be viable companions; friendship is a vital tool to weaken intolerance the world over. Then there is the provision friends provide when there is a lack of family or no family at all, shoulders to lean on, ears to confide in, couches to sleep on, outside advice well regarded and objective.

            If all else is to fail, a friendship should be strong enough to sustain a bind, even if a relationship fails to produce. Within every great lover is a great friends and a friendship is the basis for all beginnings sustaining human endeavour and the endings to those endeavours gone awry.