I had lunch at the Round House Cafe today with my friend Scott Carrino, the co-owner of the cafe  – Maria was off in a different corner with her women’s group, her friends Mandy and Athena. Scott came over and we ate our sandwiches together, and we talked about the spiritual side of my surgery, the New York carriage horses, his writing and the Tai Chi lessons I am about to receive from him.

My friendship with Scott has grown and deepened over the past year. We talked a lot when his dog Deo died, we have worked together on his writing, and the past weeks have seen some big breakthroughs for him. He has bravely written about painful issues in his childhood, and has begun to post regularly on the Creative Group At Bedlam Farm, a creative community headquartered on my Facebook Home Page.

Scott’s ambition is to be creative every day, to write and create his music. He is there, it is a beautiful thing to see unfold. Scott is a good and generous spirit, far more tolerant and easy going than I am. His response to the travail in his life is to be a good person, every day and to do good.

I realized recently that Scott and I have become close friends, good friends, easy and honest with one another. Friendships like that among men are miracles, and rare occurrences, at least in my life. I have moved so many times, changed so many times, I have left so many people and friends behind. I do not look back much on life, but I regret that, friends are important to me, it has often been lonely without them.

I wondered, after my lunch, what it is that makes a friendship stick?  Scott and I genuinely like one another, we get a kick out of each other. We respect and admire one another. We both share a passion for creativity and an interest in it, we support one another. We stay in touch, both of us can be distracted and busy, but we always find some time for each other. Once in awhile, I will go to his farm and help out with sugaring, or just sit and talk. Once in awhile, Scott pulls into the driveway and we sit out on the Adirondack chairs and talk, it is always easy, always good. We ask one another for help, and we provide it, always. When I came home from the hospital, Scott was the first person to show up, he brought good for a week or so, he just showed up with food when we badly needed that help, we were both so overwhelmed.

We have made a difference in one another’s lives. My sometimes intense personality does not bother him at all, as it does some people, he just laughs at me when it is appropriate, listens when that is right. We trust one another, and trust is like money in the bank, it builds and builds. I suppose what initially drew us to one another are the wounds deep inside each of us, but it is more than that now, it is love and connection.

I think, in an odd way, of our friendship as a still life, difficult to define but clear enough when you see and feel it.  And beautiful. I am working on friendships, I might be making another friend or two as well. Life’s miracles, once one opens to them. Friendship is a sign of my healing, and not from the surgery. A sign of opening, of growth.