I wrote letters to a friend for over 25 years that seamlessly slipped into email. My moving from California to Canada never really interrupted our friendship. At the core of knowing each other there must be something universal in humans that opens to each other that distance, or “class”, or experience, or whatever barrier of difference we imagine simply not there–unless we choose it.
The alternate to this is an unfortunate breakdown of communication experienced with an oncologist I really liked. Due to a misunderstanding relayed and amplified to her by another doctor, all communication between us has ceased. Ironically, the only path that may remain open is through directly speaking to someone else to relay my message. Sadly, aside from the suggestion that I myself am an inadequate representation of myself, it’s become a reality that in person my needs for contact overwhelm me and make me incomprehensible except when I’m writing. (And even then it’s often questionable if I’m making sense.
It’s odd that though each of us embodies the whole world we are so intent on controlling the conversation in a manner pleasing to us. Not comprehensible, pleasing little nothings.