Parallel Paths, Shared Horizons

I recently went to Sicily for a yoga retreat with a friend. This was our second retreat together, and as I think back on the week, I realize that the retreat itself was only part of what made the trip special. There was the yoga, of course, and the meditation, the sightseeing, the laughter, the long conversations, the beautiful meals and, naturally, the delicious food and wine. But there was also the simple pleasure of being somewhere new with someone who sees the world in a way that is remarkably similar to my own.

We have talked about all kinds of adventures. Hiking trips. Touring different countries. Exploring cities we have never seen. Sometimes our conversations are serious, and sometimes they are completely ridiculous, but there always seems to be another place we want to go, another experience we want to have. We have even imagined the possibility of living in another country someday. It is as if making plans for the next adventure is part of the adventure itself.

What strikes me most about our friendship is how much we have in common despite the differences between us. She is several years younger than I am and vastly more educated. She has an interesting career in education and a curiosity about the world that I admire. My own path has been very different. I have worked in more industries than she has and accumulated a collection of experiences that could never have come from a classroom or a single career.

And yet, somehow, none of those differences seem to matter when we are together. In fact, I think they are part of what makes the friendship work.

We have similar stories from our younger years, memories and experiences that sometimes make us look at each other and say, in one form or another, “You too?” There is a familiarity there that is difficult to explain. Perhaps a soul sister—someone who came into my life at just the right time and with whom I share some inexplicable connection.

At the same time, we bring very different kinds of knowledge and perspectives to the friendship. She teaches me things, sometimes without even realizing she is doing it. Perhaps I do the same for her. We can talk about books, travel, work, relationships, places we want to see, things we have experienced, and things we are still curious about. There never seems to be a shortage of conversation. And yet, interestingly, we are both completely comfortable with silence.

We don't have to fill every quiet moment with conversation. We can sit together and read, take a walk without talking, or simply be in the same space doing our own thing. There is no expectation that we constantly entertain each other or keep the conversation going. I think that kind of comfort is its own form of intimacy.

We are also comfortable being alone. Neither of us needs the other to make every experience complete. Perhaps that is another reason our friendship works so well. We enjoy being together, but we don't depend on being together. There is room for both connection and independence, conversation and quiet, adventure and simply being still.

There is a wonderful feeling that comes from finding someone with whom you don't have to explain every little thing. Someone who can appreciate where you've been while still being interested in where you're going. Someone who is different enough to keep things interesting but similar enough to make you feel understood.

That doesn't happen all that often in life.

Maybe that's why we dream about the next adventure. These trips aren't simply vacations. They are opportunities to step outside our ordinary lives and see what happens when we put ourselves somewhere unfamiliar, with time to talk, explore, laugh, eat, learn and simply be.

There is also something about traveling with the right person that makes the world feel a little bigger. You see things through another person's eyes. You notice things you might otherwise miss. You have someone to laugh with when something goes wrong, someone with whom to share the beauty of a moment, and someone who will remember the same little details years later.