Relationships Of Proximity

 A couple of weeks ago, my pastor (in a sermon on friendship) introduced the idea of relationships of proximity.

The concept is that many of our relationships come into being not because of a shared interest or activity but simply because of the fact that we are in the presence of other people so often that, almost by accident, we enter friendships.  Often because we simply see each other so often.

To be fair I suppose, almost all friendships start with proximity - or at least, once upon a time.  I became friends with the people I was around the most:  first my sibling and cousins, then the children of my parents' friends, then people that I went to school with - then, in its final form, the people that happened to be wherever I was.

As I look at those relationships over the years, what I realize is that there was a time that I made friends not just because of proximity but because of interest and time:  Uisdean Ruadh and I started with shared interests in history and drama, The Director and I started with band and drama and role playing games.  

It can happen, of course, that proximity becomes true friendship:  La Marquessa and I met (literally) on the day before we graduated high school and found out we were going to the same college, Rainbow and I were coworkers that talked first about industry and then about shared interests, the Dog Whisperer and I started with work trauma and found out we have a shared love of animals.  But too often, proximity friendships expire when the proximity is removed.

If I look over the course of my life, I have easily gone to school and worked with hundreds of people over the years that I knew more than just a casual nodding. Of those relationships, 99% of them have disappeared to nothing more than faint glimpses on social or business media or a comment by a friend about them.  In a way that strikes me as odd, of course:  in the heat of the moment of school or work, experiences were shared that in some cases were unique or (at least in my case) were formative.  And yet for all of the emotion and passion that was poured into those moments, they slipped into the stream of time without a trace.

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Another point of the sermon - beyond the nature of relationships of proximity - was the idea of consciously making and building relationships

This sets the idea of proximity on its head to some extent in the sense that we do not just rely on people "being around" to deepen the relationship.  We actively engage in building the relationship - and it can be with those near or far away - by partaking in common activities or, that most risky of activities, sharing about ourselves.

But it is a choice:  it is active, it is pursued.  It is not something that we just "wait" to happen.  It is something that we actively seek out to make happen.

Does it always work?  No, of course not.  Many are the times that a potentially deeper relationship fell apart because a fork in the road was reached where one party (or both) simply stopped the process.  Sometimes just stopping to actively engage is enough, given a world where our inputs are constant and if something is front and center, other things will flow in to take its place.

That said, that is still not a reason to try.

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The final question, of course, is "What am I doing about it"?

This hard for me to answer.  Yes, I am in a new location (and in a weird sort of way, already had contacts when I moved here through Iaijutsu), and the possibilities, while not endless, are present:  beyond coworkers, I have interests I have had in the past and church.

And yet I find myself strangely reluctant.

Part of that, I suppose, I could blame on the fact that even 1.5 years, I have no idea if this is a "permanent" place - not that this should impact my ability to build relationships, but it somehow does in my mind.  Another part is the risk - perhaps as prevalent as it has been in the last 10 years - that opening up to relationship in a contentious environment runs the risk of making environments uncomfortable.

But I must be mindful to press on - after all, much like with any growing thing, if there is not renewal at some point things pass into senescence, and then failure.