Friendship

Friendship

“Friendship is evanescent in every man’s experience, and remembered like heat lightning in past summers. Fair and flitting like a summer cloud;--there is always some vapor in the air, no matter how long the drought; there are even April showers. Surely from time to time, for its vestiges never depart, it floats through our atmosphere. It takes place, like vegetation in so many materials, because there is such a law, but always without permanent form, though ancient and familiar as the sun and moon, and as sure to come again. The heart is forever inexperienced. They silently gather as by magic, these never failing, never quite deceiving visions, like the bright and fleecy clouds in the calmest and clearest days. The Friend is some fair floating isle of palms eluding the mariner in Pacific seas. Many are the dangers to be encountered, equinoctial gales and coral reefs, ere he may sail before the constant trades. But who would not sail through mutiny and storm, even over Atlantic waves, to reach the fabulous retreating shores of some continent man?”

--Henry Thoreau

As I read Thoreau’s essay Friendship this morning, I found delight in the smell of the old green book printed in 1921 by Little Leather Library. I pondered over Thoreau’s words and reminisced over certain friendships in my life that were once strong and clear but seem to have changed like fair and flitting summer clouds, and in some cases, even evaporated, and now seem like magical dreams, or “like heat lightning in past summers”. I found myself feeling nostalgic for people that are no longer present in my life, at least in the way they once were, but found solace in thinking about how the vestiges of these friendships never fully depart from us, but continue to float “through our atmosphere”, forever adding “vapor in the air, no matter how long the drought.” My heart swelled as I thought of friendships that are dear to me, and presently appear as “bright and fleecy clouds in the calmest and clearest days” and give me much comfort, joy, love, sense of identity and meaning. These friendships are of great importance to me, yet Thoreau tells us that friendships are, like the clouds, without permanent form. The evanescence of friendship is part of its beauty: we are all constantly changing and so must the friendships that we engage in so we can keep seeing, understanding, and being a part of the world, while finding meaning in it.

However, if “the Friend is some fair floating isle of palms eluding the mariner in Pacific seas”, then it is also “ancient and familiar as the sun and moon, and as sure to come again”. While in my home-state of Minnesota for the holidays, I had breakfast with an old friend that I had not seen in over ten years. It was truly wonderful to reconnect with her. It only made me sad to think of why we had somehow, along the way on our busy paths, lost touch with one another. I felt both joyful and surprised by the ease with which we both sat and talked for hours, as if those ten years had not passed. We had grown into women during that time; suffered heartbreaks; lost innocence; gained wisdom; discovered limitations and strengths; grown into more complex human beings—yet we were able to pick up where we left off and at the same time we were able to meet each other where we were presently. It felt like a good dream to be seeing and talking with a person I had not seen in over ten years, but still, somehow, knew so well. I know this is a rare thing—to be able to reconnect with someone in this way after so much time has passed. I feel lucky to have experienced this reconnection, as well as fortunate to have so many good people in my life that I love as I write this. I also feel blessed for the people that have been in my life ephemerally and now live in my memory and dreams and will forever be a part of who I am and who I become. Since the New Year began, I have been struck by the beauty in all of the different kinds of friendships we are able to experience in our lifetimes, and the way these friendships ebb and flow, change and grow, converge at various moments in our lives, and teach us incredible things. What precious gifts these friendships are, and shall remain to me, whether they be in ebb or flow. “For there is always some vapor in the air, no matter how long the drought; there are even April showers.”

Christmas 2009

Dear Family and Friends,




I hope that December finds you looking forward to the holiday celebrations that are coming soon, surrounded by people you love, and feeling cozy in houses of warmth and light.

I’m sitting here in Northern Florida, in the middle of December, dreaming of and looking forward to spending a white Christmas in Minnesota at Wildrose Farm. The weather patterns have been so strange here. The temperature actually drops down low enough that I have to turn the heater on, but then the very next morning I wake up sweating, and it is hot and humid outside and I think of turning the air conditioner on. I’m really looking forward to returning to a cold place, as strange as that may sound to my friends and family that are reading this in sub-zero temperatures. Don’t get me wrong—I have a great appreciation for the sun and warmth of Florida. There are some mornings that I’ll be running outside and I will think of how incredible the sun feels on my face, arms and legs. I’m definitely getting some much-needed vitamin D here, after having lived in the Pacific Northwest for 6 years. But I am craving to return to the cold I grew up in (for a while at least)—to feel the cold slice right through me—to have my breath taken away—to wake up—to remember what it feels like to walk in the snow on a winter day. I am excitedly awaiting the smell of chimneys in the cold air, the sound of snow crystals crunching beneath my feet, seeing peoples’ breath dancing around their mouths, being in the stillness and quiet of the cold, seeing snow resting gracefully on the branches of Pines, Firs, and Spruce, and snowflakes falling softly to the ground, having ice crystals form on my eyelashes, feeling a warm cheek and embrace welcome me in from the cold outside, and experiencing the body thaw that occurs upon entering a house heated by the warmth of a fire.

I think that different places bring out different parts of our selves. And so I think it is interesting to try and live in contrasting places that introduce us to different sides of our selves, and to all kinds of other things, but it is also important to remember and return to (if possible) the places that shape us and help us to know and remember who we are, including the places that gave us our roots. Minnesota is the place that gave me roots—It is the place that grounds me—it is the place in which I first became acquainted with the world. It is the landscape that reflects to me my most authentic knowledge. It was in this landscape that I was able to act, feel, know, and see before the world could react and cause me to be inhibited, embarrassed, hurt, protective, and to realize my limitations. It is a place of innocence and wisdom in the same rite. It is a place where I am still free to shout out for no reason across farm and field, knowing there are no nearby neighbors to hear me or think it strange. It is a place where the materialistic laws of the world don’t seem to apply (at least in rural Minnesota, where my parents live). It is a place of comfort and quiet. It is a place to think and to “just be”.

Even though I love having a place such as this to return to—a refuge of sorts—I have also really enjoyed my time away from Minnesota and have learned a lot from living in Alaska, Oregon, Washington, and now Florida. Living in the South the last 7 months has been a very interesting experience. I have learned a lot about a new part of the country, seen new and beautiful landscapes, been introduced to new creatures I had never seen before, become a part of a thriving music community, met some really neat people, and lived alone for the first time in my life. I feel like I have learned and am learning a lot.

It is truly beautiful here, and the birds, animals, reptiles, insects, swamps, savannahs, springs, trees, plants, and the natural history of this place astonish me every single day that I am here. What a wild place this is. It is teeming with life and mystery. There is a celestial golden light here, that was especially present in the fall months, and magical and vibrant sunsets that compete with those in the Midwest, and may even surpass them in beauty. The light shines down on giant oak trees, filters through the Spanish moss hanging from their old branches and highlights shiny-leaved banana trees nearby. Lizards scurry across fallen tree trunks. Alligators slowly slip into the rivers, yet keep their eyes on you. You can look out onto a Savannah and see hundreds of beautiful birds and butterflies and turn the other direction and see endless river swamp, giant spiders dangling from the trees and snakes slithering by. I have seen owls up close and heard them calling, “Who cooks for you?” more often in the last 7 months than I have in my whole life. The biodiversity is absolutely amazing here. I feel lucky to be experiencing the beauty of another incredible place and to have the memories of other beautiful landscapes I have known still living inside of me.

Even though I leave a part of myself in each new place that I live in, I feel like I soak up much more than I leave behind. The landscapes we live in become a part of who we are. I feel lucky to be exploring a new part of the country, though I don’t know how long I will be here or where I will go next. I hope that all of you are getting to know new landscapes and remembering and reconnecting with ones you’ve known in the past. I look forward to hearing about your explorations. I also hope that the coming year is a beautiful one for you, full of hope, joy, and adventures.

*Merry Christmas and Peace and Love throughout the New Year,


Love, Caitlin