I think about the first human to ever discover an orange. Rushing to share, she quickly broke the fruit, releasing a zesty, citrus fragrance. In that act of sharing and juice spraying, everyone realized how aromatic this fruit was. This is how all the best moments in life are discovered — in the earnest practice of being open.
Salma and I are so enamored with oranges that we compiled a collection of poems about them. I can't think of a better metaphor for friendships. An orange is not meant to be eaten alone. If it were, natural selection would have sculpted it one big blob for one to sink teeth in; yet inside its translucent membrane, each petal is perfectly intact, destined to be shared.
Everything that is to be loved coalesces into meaningful gatherings — a book gathers stories gather words gather ink; a painting gathers visions gather colors gather paint; music gathers composers gather instruments gather sounds; cooking gathers curation gathers ingredients and the energy it takes to pry open the flavors. Like bits within their whole, gathering is the pattern that organizes the mosaics of life to give meaning.
The core of gathering has a beautiful paradox: through offering pieces of ourselves, we come together more wholly than each individual could have ever been alone. My book club (or should I call it my beloved sala of friendships) is where this magic happens. Within these shared spaces (these peeled-open moments of coffee, meals, books, and walks) we begin to feel safe enough to spark ideas and explore depths together. Like soundwaves meeting in a beautiful symphony, we get so lost in conversation as if we're the only ones who can breathe underwater. When we finally pop back into reality, these orange-sharers remind me of why life is worth living.
This is how I think about friendships: to take the best things of my life, split them into pieces and petals like an orange, and hand them to people I love. Take the bigger piece, because there is more than enough. 🧡
I loved reading this🍊
This is so sweet!