Missives Directed At Me

A friend writes me "letters never meaning to send."

Emails he calls "missives" are used as his outlet to chronicle, complain, deconstruct and analyze what those in his life are doing to him.

"Most of it's too angry and venomous so I put it in a special folder and never send them 'cause it's most helpful to write it out but I don't want you to see how nasty I can get."

"Fascinating," I say not knowing how to respond.

The missives I do receive are thoughtful, provoking, full of insights peppered with irony, sarcasm, personal revelation and humor.

While I'm curious as to the "really large file" of unsent things, over the past year we've developed a rich, intimate, transparent and mutually fulfilling dialogue ... an almost forgotten commodity in today's world.

Nowadays everything is instant and shallow, quick to be used and forgotten because of our rush to arrive at the next necessary thing.

 Sadly this includes friendships, most of which are now managed via text, Instagram, Facebook, Facetime and Phone calls.

To take time, stealing it from the constant demands others hurl at us and that we place on ourselves, to thoughtfully communicate with just one other person is ... pretty frigging radical now.

On the rare occasions we're actually together, a mischievous telepathy occurs through glances and smiles without the use of words.

It's like two old friends and one says, "Remember the time ..."

"Yep," the other replies before the first can clarify which time and both erupt in laughter at the same thing.

I don't know how to explain this but it definitely happens.

There's lots we disagree on though we're civil, often poking fun of the other's beliefs but some magic happens by which we're both better informed than before.

We may not change the other's mind but we certainly enhance each other's position.

The biggest thing I've gained from his missives, both the sent and the unsent ones, is how much I've missed ... AND NEED ... friendly dialogue rooted in trust that I can say whatever or hear outlandish ideas that are safely sent and received ... considered ... discussed ... reaching conclusions far better than I'd ever arrive at alone.

Leonardo Boff, one of my hero's, is a Central American Catholic Priest censured by the Church for being right ... a seemingly consistent thing among the Pontificate.

Summoned to the Vatican to declare his intentions, kneeling in front of the Pope himself, Leonardo was to show his obedience by kissing the Pontiff's feet.

In an upright fetal position, Boff takes a handkerchief from his pocket and shines the gold slippers John Paul I wears before, ever so swiftly, touching his lips to a foot.

Two great symbolic gestures seeming to contradict the other.

"I'd rather walk in the company of believers," Boff said afterwards, "than in the solitary security of my convictions."

These days everyone seems to live within the solitary security of their convictions.

I am thankful for my friend who shoots missives attacking the securities solitude creates, often altering my convictions and leaving me better, and happier, then I was before.

It's a shame there's not more of this in the world.