There is something warm about old friendships and relationships nurtured over a long time- call it comfort, if you will, and there is nothing wrong or close-minded about seeking the reassurance of it once in a while.
Over the past few days, I’ve been mulling over how easy it has become with technology to schedule and reschedule. How ‘I miss you’ does not seem to translate into the expected level of excitement when people actually meet, and how there are expectations of time together at all. How time with loved ones is timed and limited by plans that follow, and curfews, and commitments to keep up afterward. How it is so easy to to pile up all your hope on a long-awaited rendezvous only to have it all dashed by ‘I’m sorry, I’m running late today. Can’t do it. Another time?’ How often we tell people we know, ‘it’s been long, we must talk… was thinking of you, so gave you a ring’- how does it not make the other person feel like a cog in a network system that requires upkeep through some semi-regular servicing and maintenance? A cog in the web of the one thing that is often highlighted as the hallmark of genuineness in human life- human relationships.
Someone once told, ‘aim low, avoid disappointments’. But why is hope being labeled the miscreant. Why must I stop hoping- it is my lifeblood after all, the optimist that I am at heart. It allows me to express my liveliness, and it is how I express my love and care. It is how I show my warmth and connection to another soul, and bare my own. It is my only way of communicating the life that I embody and carry out through my existence. As much as I have tried to temper my propensity to hope, I cannot allow myself for the sole reason that it ends up afflicting suffocation on my vital energy, whatever the source of it may be- soul, intellect, heart..