Friends

A friend once remarked that I went to the Himalaya because my basic need for intimacy and connection is met not through relationships with other human beings but barren mountain terrain. At the time I was, for some reason, researching the subject of clinical depression, having stumbled on an interesting book called The Depression Learning Path from clinical-depression.co.uk.

Created by people who are not medically trained, the book challenges conventional thinking about clinical depression, anti-depressants, and psychotherapy. But what struck me most was their basic needs checklist, which included taking care of the mind and body; the need for meaning, purpose and goals; and the need for stimulation and challenge. According to the book, a human being needs to have seven of these needs met in order to function ‘properly’.

I didn’t score too badly except in the need for intimacy and connection. But my friend pointed out that intimacy did not necessarily have to be with another person. True, for most this need involves another person or persons, but for some it can be fulfilled by a pet. Mountains, my friend concluded, were my intimate partners.

In the last year or so, however, I’ve deliberately cultivated intimacy and connection with human beings. In the process, I've discovered a frantic world of fleeting friendships, where two-way communication of intimate details with people you’ve just met is commonplace. I’ve also made some surprisingly good friends, people who know more about me than my oldest and closest ‘conventional’ friends. The anticipation of meeting someone new, the thrill of connection, even the pang of parting have been rewarding beyond imagination.

Unfortunately all relationships have an expiry date, a point brilliantly articulated in Hong Kong auteur Wong Kar-Wai’s 1995 film Chungking Express. When that milestone has been reached, moving on is the only option. A mistake made my many people, including myself, is trying to cling on to an expired friendship against instinct, always the best judge in such situations. There's no logical reason not to let go, because someone else is just round the corner. What’s more, feeling nostalgic for the special people in our lives long after they’ve gone is, in itself, an exquisite experience. Extreme caution, however, is recommended where the risk of relapse exists.

I still feel for people who’ve moved out of my life. I also feel for the mountains that I know I will always go back to.