I’ve never had many close friends, I’m afraid -just a lot of people I nod or wave at. And of those, most of them remain nameless even though I recognize them in their proper contexts. But, devoid of that, the majority remain enigmas that smile at me when I approach; I usually require more finite clues for identification. I don’t think it’s so much a matter of ‘face-blindness’ I have for them, as much as ‘person-blindness’, perhaps; or more accurately, context forgetfulness.
Nevertheless, embarrassed as I may be at my memory, I treasure their smiles, and casual greetings; I welcome their conversation that usually does not require anything more from me, than listening and adding a few observations of my own on whatever the subject we’re discussing. Seldom does it require encyclopedic knowledge, nor is it expected. It is, by and large, queue-talk at the supermarket, say, or perhaps complaint-talk because the bus for which we are both waiting, is terribly late. If nothing else, it makes time go by less painfully, and, at best, adds something to the day: something to remember. Something to think about, however briefly, when they’ve left.
Of course, as with many such random encounters, it slowly fades into the wallpaper I’ve plastered over my life, but on occasion it assumes an unanticipated value: a novel pattern perhaps, or an appealing viewpoint that merits further consideration, largely because it does not emanate from the usual databases that both I and my few close friends tend to access.
I hadn’t really given this type of acquaintanceship much thought, to tell the truth -there seemed little need to invest much effort in considering the relative merits of chance encounters. And yet, it was purely by chance that I happened upon an article in BBC worklife about just such meetings: https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20200701-why-your-weak-tie-friendships-may-mean-more-than-you-think
Ian Leslie, a London-based author, writes that ‘Close friends are important – but research shows that building networks of casual acquaintances can boost happiness, knowledge and a sense of belonging.’ This realization apparently stems from a 1973 paper from Mark Granovetter, a sociology professor at Stanford University, entitled The Strength of Weak Ties. ‘As Granovetter pointed out, the people whom you spend a lot of time with swim in the same pool of information as you do. We depend on friendly outsiders to bring us news of opportunities from beyond our immediate circles.’ Chance encounters, in other words.
I suppose Social Media can perform a similar function, but there’s a degree of anonymity possible in Social Media that does not penalize undeserved self-aggrandizement, or frank dishonesty in the replies to any disclosures posted online. Of course in this continuing Age of Social Distancing, maybe we simply have to take whatever’s available.
Still, the world is more than the space between us; life is more than video-links, or earnest phone calls to people you haven’t seen, let alone hugged, in years. A physical encounter, however many metres apart, is still the preferable way to engage, I think -even with strangers.
I am an obsessive runner of trails these days. It’s refreshing to encounter reality in additional dimensions not available on the screen: the feel of wind caressing my cheeks, the crunch of leaves underfoot, my eyes able to scan the ground ahead for rocks or roots, not pixels… an absolution, somehow.
But things do not always go as planned, even on a trail. There are moments when my attention fades as the forest’s blanket attempts to wrap me in its arms and secrete me away to its lair. And then, if I am not careful I find myself in it -in some bush beside the trail, or worse, dashed against a fallen log, or soaked in a nearby creek.
Such things are not unknown on a leafy trail where the shadows sit and wait for company -or, at times, a person who is herself lost in the freedom of dreams. And one day, I found myself lying in a cluster of salal suddenly conscious of an elderly worried face staring down at me.
“Are you okay?” it asked.
I could hear the hesitation in her voice. I can imagine that seeing a stranger lying on a bush in a forest with no one else around might seem suspicious. “Yes,” I said and smiled, eager to reassure her. “I must have tripped on a root, I guess,” I added, and sat up feeling a little dizzy.
She immediately smiled. “My son runs in here,” she said. “He says he usually comes back with scratches, and feels it’s all part of the fun.”
I got unsteadily to my feet and leaned on a nearby tree. “It can be exciting,” I agreed. “At least it’s something to do that breaks up the day a little…”
“It’s all better than staring at a screen for hours on end,” she said, nodding her head as if acknowledging that it was therapy for her as well. “Even with all of the inescapable video calls with friends, you run out of things to say to the same people. I mean, nothing new is happening to them, either.” She rolled her eyes briefly. “It gets rather stale, don’t you think?”
I chuckled at that. “Especially if they’re not even reading anything interesting to discuss.” I smiled as I remembered boring one of my friends with whom I’d tried to discuss some of the thoughts of the philosophical anthropologist Loren Eiseley. “Have you ever read any Loren Eiseley?” I suddenly asked her on a whim.
Her face lit up and she grinned from ear to ear. “My god, I didn’t realize anybody around here even knew his name,” she gushed. “Have you read The Invisible Pyramid?”
I suddenly perked up. “Yes, I have,” I answered. “I thought I’d read most of his stuff, but just the other day I found a book of his at the bottom of a pile of books I hadn’t looked at for aeons. All the Strange Hours it’s called. Have you read that one?”
Her eyes became saucers. “I can’t believe this! I’ve just started reading it! I tried to download it to my Kindle from Amazon, but they only had the paperback edition…”
I looked at her with new respect. “I hate it when that happens, don’t you?”
We both chuckled, and then, as if she was suddenly considering something unusual for her, she glanced at me and the bush I had just arisen from. “How big is your bubble?” she asked, but slowly, carefully -as if she was thinking something through.
“My social bubble…? You’re looking at it,” I said, shrugging. “My kids live elsewhere…”
She pretended to look off into the shadows by the trail, but I could tell she was still assessing me. Judging my trustworthiness. “My name’s Martha,” she suddenly blurted out. “Would you consider enlarging your video bubble?”
My smile grew so wide my face actually hurt. “My name’s G,” I said, and elbow-bumped her like a new-found friend. “Enlarge my video-bubble…? Yes, of course… I thought you’d never ask!”
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- September 2022
- August 2022
- July 2022
- June 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- February 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- November 2021
- October 2021
- September 2021
- August 2021
- July 2021
- June 2021
- May 2021
- April 2021
- March 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- April 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
Leave a Reply