Old friends give us so much. They share our memories, they’ve watched us grow, we’ve watched them learn, we’ve been each other’s rocks for years, and we’ve often shared so many experiences together. They know us in ways other good friends don’t, and we’ve learned from them in ways we don’t often understand until much later. Our old friends can be part of the foundations of our life. So what does it mean when we all of a sudden meet up with them again after not seeing each other for some time, and their behaviours are very different? On Friday, I found out.
There’s a man I’ve known for 13 years. I met him for the first time when I started a new job in Switzerland. It was a fantastic job and an exciting time. And on day 1, I was introduced to this man. British, he was straight-forward, intelligent, unassuming and very funny. He was one of our business’s senior Directors, but what made him truly rare was that he spoke to you not through his job title, but from the core of who he’d been while growing up. And as the new arrival, you noticed that whenever people were in this man’s company, they seemed to just show a little more of themselves than they did with others. There was something special.
This man was 15 years older than me. He’d been in Switzerland for a number of years and though not a keen linguist, he’d loved fitting in, finding his groove and showing people the friendliness of who he truly is. As many of you will know, starting a completely new job in a country you’ve not been to before where they speak a language you’ve not used before can be a daunting experience. It can take time to learn the cultural assumptions and sense the unspoken with the people you meet. But this man had something special. He’d help us. He’d guide us, he’d have fun with us, encourage us and give us loads of stick when we made mistakes and got things wrong, just always with a smile coming. He was many different men at the same time. He was an unexpected mix of Director, best friend, someone you looked up to, an older brother, a father, and an inspiration of the kind I hadn’t known men to be.
How he became these things I’ll never know. His father had died when my friend was only very young. As the man of the house before the age of 10, he had to fend for himself in quite a big way. And as he’d worked his socks off to create a career and a future for himself, it made him stand out and not quite fit in anymore. Apparently, lads who wanted to be cool and hard didn’t do these things. So without his dad, and with his friendship circles constantly changing, he’d got his head down and worked hard.
And what was so rare about this man was that whenever he listened to people, he was truly listening. He listened in 9 different ways at the same time. He’d listen to what they were saying. He’d listen to what they weren’t saying. He’d listen to what had created the very person they were. And he’d listen to what, who and how the person talking could one day be. Some people listen only with their ears, but not this man.
It’s often said that the way we treat others is a ‘tell’ – a cue – for how we’d actually like others to treat us. What did this man want? He’d had fast cars, a passion for excellent cuisine and wines, a successful life. But over a couple of years, I found myself increasingly wondering… are we being for this man what he is being for us? What is he looking for? Is he happy? This never went away.
In the end, we parted company. He started a new job with a new company in the UK, and I left my role to start some research. To be honest, I got swallowed up by it and ended up submerged in my work. I didn’t keep in regular touch. Over the years, he and I would meet up briefly, sporadically, just for an evening. And with me locked in my serious world of research, I didn’t notice him properly. Perhaps I was being a bit self-absorbed, but it felt like something was missing in my friend. Something wasn’t quite ‘gone’, but something was no longer the way it had been years previously. True, we weren’t as connected anymore, we no longer knew the ins and outs of each other’s lives and we didn’t know what the other was going through. But something had changed. What was it?
Having seen my friend only 3 times in the last 7 years, he joined us at my wedding 4 months ago. And something was different. He looked younger, he was slimmer, there was an energy in his face like when I first met him. He was still. And as he spoke, he was smiling. Not a social smile, but a real one. The kind of smile you don’t even know you have. What had happened?
Apparently, he’d had a very tough year. A few things had gone quite wrong for him. Why was he smiling? And as I listened, I felt guilty for not being the friend he might have needed. But all of a sudden, his smile broadened even further. And he said it. “I’ve never, ever been this happy.” So I listened. “Jonathan, I’m me again”.
I needed to meet him again. Properly this time. So on Friday night, we met up.
As I arrived, something was different. As this man spoke, there was a clean, simple purity about him. No big words, no detailed memories, not a single unkind word about the things that have happened to him, no ego anywhere, and no disappointment or resentment that we’d lost touch. He was calm, smiling, connected and feeling buzzingly, sustainably vibrant. What was it?
I asked him what’s happened to make him ‘him’ again and so truly happy. He laughed.
“It’s the beginning of my second week.” came his reply. He’d remembered the summer holidays you went on when younger. And in the first week, you’re so busy loving your holiday, having fun, building sandcastles, riding your bike, eating nice food, standing excited in the queue before buying that huge ice-cream, that you didn’t realise the holiday couldn’t last forever. But when the second week arrived, you knew you only had a few more days left. You’d cram everything in. Enjoy each and every moment. And do all the things you wanted your holiday to be about. You didn’t waste a moment. You’d get up earlier and go to bed later. Each day couldn’t possibly contain enough things to do. And time was running out. “When I’m at the end of this holiday of life, I don’t want to be thinking about the yesterdays, regrets or things I haven’t done. Every day, I want to feel today is the best day I’ve had. My life’s now about saying yes today.”
Passions ignite our lives. We all have different priorities, beliefs and commitments. But what are those things that make us smile inside and out without even knowing we’re doing it? And how does it make us feel when there’s something in our today that makes us feel alive in the purest way? What can we say ‘yes’ to today that will give us the day we deserve, need and truly cherish?
Dave, have a fantastic second week. In case we haven’t said it, all of us are loving our holiday even more simply because you’re in it.
Jonathan
Comments