finding your tribe?

Love, soulfood

Can it be found? Does it need to be built? Will it arrive in good time?

Given my new surroundings, accompanied by new people and the physical absence of those I hold so fond I’ve spent a lot of time in the past month contemplating my tribe.  What is the illusive equation that makes some one go from acquaintance to friend? Does it require an active effort? Is it organic? Is it faited? Love in romance and friendship has struck me hard dozens of times over the years, why is it so hard to remember where the tipping point lay?

Was it easier in the past? Was I less picky? Was it geographical?

I have deduced, haphazardly at best, that I have a type.
Currently seeking: intelligent, interesting, passionate, funny, creative, inquisitive, verbal friends. 

The other day someone I work with said with head cocked to the side and squinted eyes as if studying a magic-eye poster, “You intrigue me”. 

seeing eye
I spent all of the 5th grade looking at two of these bloody posters, I know that look well. “Well, thank you, that’s a good complement”. Intriguing, feels pretty fundamental. Please, intrigue me.

Last night I had dinner with two of my best gals. One I literally dream about hugging. A comfort blanket of history, compassion and unconditional love breathes and pulses in her. The other vibrates on the same absurd, divergent, creative frequency as I. I love her energy, she takes me to a place where hilarity gains momentum like a snowball down a hill well until someone is gasping for air and trying not to pee their pants. I used to see them almost every day.

Maybe I’m mourning them and the handful of others that seemed to have crossed my path in some kind of cosmic choreography. There to carry me through a fucked up time of transition and self-definition. One day last summer, I sat in a crumpled pile of myself, spewing my frustration about trust, love, logistics of life. Ari stood in font of wiping my tear soaked cheeks whilst devising a plan about how she would fix it. I apologized for being a perpetual mess,
“How many times are you going to have to clean up my fucked up life?” 

Friendship like that isn’t growing on trees.

I will forever hold that I have the most incredible people in the whole world in my life. It has been a winding path but the simple presence of radiant human-beings that I have the privilege to call my friends and family provided a map.

Maybe it’s just getting easier to discern who will make the cut and who won’t. I long for the ease of filling my friendship seats when located in a weird liberal hippy oasis. Maybe this is classic case of moving to the suburbs regret. Maybe, it’s just a phase. Maybe we’ll move to the Bay area, Eugene, Madison, NOLA, Austin, Madrid, Asheville. How many times can you uproot? What if there are simply no nutrients in your soil?

Here’s the silver lining. I have this little crazy lovely family.

Ever is every molecule of me and a 100 billion of her own. She does what all good daughters do: drive their mother’s crazy by simply being too much like them. She is ferociously independent. The guardian of her own moral sensibilities. She knows who she is. I can’t even remember when I found that in my self 14? 18? 25? Seriously, seeing her emotional and mental might at the tender age of 6 runneth my cup over.  Watching her, sharing a space with her, being there for the occasionally solicited bout of guidance is a tremendous existence.

Then there’s that other guy that I live with. Well, I often attempt to put words to our love. Words that do his presence justice. I struggle. In some bizarre twist of the universe I found what I know to be the only man on this planet that behaves, thinks and acts exactly like me. Except that he’s brilliant beyond measure. That he upon occasion summons up some deeply seeded wisdom that obnoxiously makes me stop arguing back. That he strings together series of words that hold my heart momentarily hostage. I never surprise myself quite like he does.

Every once in a while we will be in the midst of one of our signature convoluted conversations where we pick opposing sides just because we both like a fair shot at being the victor. At some point we both lock into our positions and call a truce. A- we are so God damned much a like that this is exactly like arguing with yourself- truce. It fulfills each of us in an intangible way. We are the only people that we love more than ourselves after all. J said to me the other day, “All I want to do is come home, lie in bed and laugh about stupid shit with you.” Likewise my love.

All of that is to say that when you share a world with your two soul mates (and two a-hole dogs) you can live any where. Would we be happier geographically somewhere else, probably. Could we be any happier than we are right, I dare you try. That’s a tall order.


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