To What We Will Become (Or, You Jump, I Jump, Jack)

Once in a while I feel compelled to explain the longevity of an unlikely friendship I formed when I was younger. I say:

You know, I think we met at a moment when we were both pretty overwhelmed by who everyone thought we were supposed to be. And as we grew up, in many, many ways, we became exactly who everyone thought we'd be. But we rely on each other to remember that we're also something more.

The echo from Adrienne Rich's "Grandmothers" is intentional; we also have her in common. That goes a long way.

Just over a year ago, I wrote this of my friendships with Allison, Marlene and Ali:

[They are among] That addictive handful of people who see continuity and change each time they see you. It is not enough to know you when; what you need is the ones who see something about how you have descended from when to this moment. Maybe not all of it, not every faltering choice along the way, but they still see a line running from the you they knew to the person in front of them today.

Or maybe, the ones who saw something in you then. Something you are only now learning how to make good on. Something latent, waiting for its time to come. Maybe she did see me as I was. Maybe this is what she couldn’t see. What I will become.

This morning, I got my daily copy of the "Crazy, Deranged Fools" newsletter from blogger/cartoonist/marketing guru Hugh MacLeod (who I discovered thanks to a friend). It included a passage from his snarky and smart little book, Ignore Everybody:

The more original your idea is, the less good advice other people will be able to give you...You don’t know if your idea is any good the moment it’s created. Neither does anyone else. The most you can hope for is a strong gut feeling that it is. And trusting your feelings is not as easy as the optimists say it is. There’s a reason why feelings scare us.

And asking close friends never works quite as well as you hope, either. It’s not that they deliberately want to be unhelpful. It’s just they don’t know your world one millionth as well as you know your world, no matter how hard they try, no matter how hard you try to explain.

Plus a big idea will change you. Your friends may love you, but they don’t want you to change. If you change, then their dynamic with you also changes. They like things the way they are, that’s how they love you- the way you are, not the way you may become.

Hugh's advice is good, by way of trusting yourself as the ultimate judge of your work, but I found myself grumbling just a bit about that last bit, that your friends love you the way you are, "not the way you may become." What a bleak view of our loved ones.

And then another old friend chimes in with this amazing blog post (which, incidentally, ends with a quote from Hugh's marketing guru buddy Seth Godin):

Wanna know one of my favorite things in the world, something that inspires me like none other? It’s watching someone to decide to take a leap of faith. To uproot themselves, to change careers, to make the choice to do something you never dreamed they would do. To take all that they are and all that you’ve fallen in love with and to pack it all up, neatly folded into a little blue leather suitcase and to say, “I’m off on a new adventure. Wish me luck.”...I can feel my little excited butterflies beating in my chest and traveling up my throat. They make my breath quicken. I can feel this unexplainable surge of hope that jumps, like a spark of fire, from the inspired person to me. It’s almost too hot to hold, certainly too spirited to capture. I can feel my own mind swell with the idea that the box is bigger than any of us have allowed it to be, and there is more, ever more, outside of these walls.

Hugh may be right; Mandy's take may not be the norm. But somehow, in the past few years, it has become the norm in my life.

And not just in the old tried and true folks. Each new friendship seems founded on this value more than any other. Increasingly, it seems to be the only value worth founding any relationship upon...

Thank you for that. Every leap I make is a credit to each and every one of you. And I love to watch you jump as well.