Musing .. about a young friend

Musing

; verb, Reflect deeply on a subject
; noun, A calm lengthy intent consideration
; adj, Persistently or morbidly thoughtful

I expect the nature of my writing here to shift between the first and the second forms. I'd like to steer them clear of the third, but only the end will tell.

I have lately entered into a lovely new friendship. Calling it a relationship would be inadequate. I strongly support the construct that in a friendship of opposite genders, either one of them has been or will be in love with the other at some point of time. The beauty of such a relation is that, if love happens to both simultaneously then the friendship matures into love. Otherwise it takes a different kind of maturity to overcome the obstacles of unfulfilled love and get the friendship onto a solid basis.

While there is no danger that I may be any such situation I still find myself loving my new friend. That we are determined not to turn into lovers is socially the right thing, but naturally the antipodal.

I love my friend in more than one ways.

I respect my friend's determination and understanding. The small ways in which he (could be she, but am making it easier by using he) shows his caring towards people all around him is a pleasure to watch. More than once have I caught myself wondering whether I could ever be such a caring demonstrative person?

The enthusiasm with which he faces life head-on is something only a person with superb self-confidence can handle.

He is so full of life and so has so many interests that almost border on passion. I have seen, felt and heard how he excitedly discusses interesting facets of the things he likes and the passion is very easy to see.

And I wonder how long it will last. I have a sense of loss in me, for when I see him I see what I have lost in myself. The exuberance of youth, does not apply to him simply because he does not qualify for it. I recognize this is something to do with his core being and I pray that it outlive him. How otherwise will he have it all his life?

If there was anything I could give him, it would be the lesson of my experiences, and how not to take the path that I took. I realize that his nature and character are a matter of upbringing, so there is no fear of him losing them. But if I could, I would will him to keep his passion afire forever. Let not the passage of time dull the intensity of his passion. Let not a few grey hairs reduce the cheer of his smile. Let his gaiety not be endangered by the barrage of experiences.

When You are Old - by W. B. Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

-- written on 20-Nov-2006