Shortish one today, as I am on a trip to Scotland and York, part for vacation and part for a school anniversary. It’s been tremendous so far, and I spent a good part of yesterday with a very dear friend from when I did my M.A. in England. We hadn’t seen each other for a very long while (oceans are inconvenient) but it felt perfectly, wonderfully comfortable to be talking and wandering around together again.
Over the next few days, I hope to have several such reunions, and it’s gotten me to thinking about the pure chance of meeting the people who end up becoming key players in our lives. I might very well not have gone to York at all, and then never would have met many people who became very dear to me. I still might not have met the friend I visited with yesterday if I hadn’t gone along for a particular walking tour of the city.
Presumably had I made other decisions, I would have met other people. Would they have become as dear to me as the ones that I did meet? Why do we find people in the world who fit with us so delightfully, but then end up an ocean away? These are strange thoughts to be pondering over while wandering the streets of a lovely, very old, old, city, but in part I blame the jet lag.
Some of this I also blame on Guy Kay, who I’ve been reading a lot of lately, and who includes some meditations on the role that chance plays in the people who become important parts of our lives, and those who do not, and even those who end up somewhat half-way; people who you meet, and know that under other circumstances they might have become a central figure in your life, but will not.
I don’t have any great conclusion or particular wisdom coming out of all this. I’ve just been thinking about the tricks of fate that have put certain people in my lives, and I’m very grateful for the group of precious friends that I have, and that I have been able to share at least some of my journeys with them. May we all walk together at least a little more.
Thanks for reading.