11 Jun A people person

‘You are really a people person,’ says Rose Mary at the end of the interview. I repeat it at home to my wife, who puts a mocking smile on her face. ‘What? You a people person?’

Hermit in the city
Now I must honestly confess that I initially dismissed Rose Mary’s request for an interview about friendship. I told her: ‘I know people who maintain their friendships much better than I do.’ And I added: ‘I am actually more of a hermit in the middle of the big city.’

But Rose Mary wouldn’t be persuaded and still wanted to interview me. And now she crowned our conversation with: ‘You are a true people’s person.’

The will of the wind
About that hermit: some people can live very well alone and have a penchant for it. Take the Zen monk Ryokan. After his time in the monastery, he went into the mountains where he lived in a small hut for the rest of his life. He came down to play with children and to go around with his begging bowl for food. In his hut, he wrote short, striking poems with an emotional undertone and an incomparable painting in his calligraphy.
After a storm, he wrote about his vegetable garden: ‘I have only given water to all these plants and cared for them to hand them over to the will of the wind.’
When a thief had stolen his blanket, he wrote: ‘The thief forgot to take the moon that shines through the window with him.’ In winter, the paths were covered with a thick layer of snow. Then his poems became more melancholic. That was the downside of his hermit life.

Universe
I am also someone who likes to seek solitude. But I also know the other side. I tell Rose Mary about my childhood friend Jeroen. He got ALS and became dependent on visits to him. The remarkable thing was that our friendship intensified due to his illness. We both looked forward to that moment, about once a month, when I would open his door and he would immediately make a bad joke, and then the two of us would open another universe, as the curtains were always closed, that consisted of memories (he remembered much more from the past than I did), jokes, and conversations about life.
I tell Rose Mary that I often choose his name when I role-play a work situation in training where someone calls me or sends an email. ‘Oh, Jeroen,’ I say, ‘how nice that we’re going to work together again on Monday. I’m looking forward to it!’

Simple
‘What is the most important thing in a friendship?’ asks Rose Mary. ‘That you invest time in it,’ I answer without hesitation, ‘preferably time that isn’t measured.’ After a retreat in the Zen temple in France, I stay an extra day in Montpellier with my friend and Zen nun Vero. Then we chat until the night extinguishes our words and continue again at breakfast. Rose Mary laughs. She thinks so too. It’s that simple.

Image: Calligraphy of Ryokan