The Glue That Holds Us Together

There are a lot of reasons that people come together and form close friendships. Cohesive groups can be built on a shared passion, neighborhood, tragedy, lifestyle, or hobby. I never put much thought into what brought and holds my friends together until someone outside the circle spoke to me about what brings his friends together. "No matter what," he said. "My friends and I all really try to treat people right." That struck me not only as an admirable trait, but also as an incredibly impressive distinction for a group of friends. Their dedication to that code must be really strong if it is what holds together their friendship.

What singular aspect, then, is responsible for holding my crew together? I couldn't pinpoint just one. By and large, we're conscientious: politically, socially, and environmentally. But that isn't what defines who we are. We also have an unparalleled passion for music, despite the rather wide canvas which encompasses our personal tastes. But that isn't a defining characteristic for any of us, either. We all share a taste for the absurd, a desire to bring people together to laugh and dance and eat, and a general love for life. But until today, I had not realized that this love for life presents a pair of attitudes that we all find rather difficult to balance. Perhaps this is what defines us as individuals and as a group.

On the one hand, I believe we are a group that loves every moment of happiness more than most. Our capacity for feeling good is simply greater than that of most others. To love laughter and the joy of your finer moments makes the anticipation of future adventures almost too much to bear. To love new experiences and yearn for them to the point that we drop everything for the chance to drive across the country on a scooter or teach English in Korea for a year (which has appealed not only to one of my friends, but three), is certainly a distinctive characteristic. Our thirst for new people and places carries us forward like a riptide. We start a life at a job, a school, a new city with precise focus, only to be drawn down the shore by the enticing possibilities around us. On ever-changing paths to the future, we allow ourselves to be carried forward by unknown forces.

But this love for life doesn't just draw us toward the uncertain future, it also hold us back. We share a strong sense of nostalgia. We look back and see moments of uncontrollable laughter, easy afternoons beneath sunny skies, and uninhibited hours of freedom in the universe we created. We recall bringing people together to dance, to grill, to marvel at fireworks and watch the reflections of our smiles in each others' eyes. When we find ourselves at a fork in the uncertain road to the future, the appeal of the past grows stronger. We know we can make our lives whatever we want them to be, so ever-present among the countless options before us is the possibility of recreating the finest of our memories and making an attempt at going back in time.

I have many conversations with friends about wanting to go back to where it all started -- be that Pittsburgh or Semester at Sea or Costa Rica -- and extend the lifestyle of our pasts indefinitely into the future. But I also realize that we're all thirsting to experience everything and fill our lives with new adventures. Could we really be happy living in a situation as familiar as one intentionally created to mimic what we have already seen and done?

I don't know how to balance these contradictory loves for the past and future except by moving forward into the unknown while holding on tight to the people who were there from the beginning. Places can't be carried with you, but people can. Even as they change and grow into ever more complicated creatures, people can be held close to help you carry the pure joy of the past into the wild excitement of the future.