Musings
Friend has now beome a verb, thanks to Facebook. I’m okay with this. Friendship should be active. I remember when parent became a verb. Parents used to be nouns, solid figures who did things but their actual title was simply a formality. Suddenly there was a wrong and a right way to parent. I’m not disagreeing with this though I bristle at having only two choices, believing that all relationships are imperfect and complex, representative of our own human strivings and failures. Like teaching, rules must be flexible since each child is different and daily challenges provide a chance to redefine priorities. If you are teaching Shakespeare and there’s a stalker outside the classroom window, Hamlet may not be as important as personal safety. A child who becomes excited about a book may be allowed to stay up late to finish it. I believe in wonder, considered it a priority to take my own children outside during snowstorms, bring them to the window to see hail, driving rain, or a doe nibbling at the brush by the side of the driveway.
When someone “friends” me on Facebook, I don’t consider him or her a true friend unless this is simply an extension of an existing relationship. Far-off friends can now communicate electronically and I like to hear their musings on obstacles and triumphs. I have some Facebook friends I’ve never met because they are friends of friends or people I know of and find interesting, wise, or both. A few really move me with their deep sharing of grief or success. We are different people when we write. For me, writing is connected to how I think and there’s an intimacy that is often obscured by public protocol. I realize that this is the opposite for many people. My sister regularly tells me that phone calls are her preferred type of communication. I’m not a fan of phone calls though I savor rambling calls from my daughter or son–the ones where they share what they are thinking about and learning, because it’s a chance to experience their world, a world I cannot know but can imagine. How we communicate is changing but nothing replaces human contact; holding a hand, sharing a meal. The one I love will eat breakfast with me this morning on the back porch, the beginning heat heavy in sugar maples, the sound of awakening crickets, bees, and a red-winged blackbird foraging in the warm earth.
Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor 
I totally agree that writing, texting, email, phone calls can’t replace a human being holding your hand when you’re anxious about being at the dentist’s office, a smile when you’re feeling down, a nod of someone’s head as you read your poems. In fact, I wouldn’t even know about this blog had I not been to a reading of yours.
Sharing grief or success via writing is different than doing it in person. Strangely enough there those who share so much via their writings but have nothing to share in person. I used to think that it was some form of disconnect but realize that people have different preferences for sharing, writing may be the only way they feel safe sharing.
I agree. I often find the deep sharing on FB moving. It’s a kind of collective unconscious, as if we all experience these emotions and can add in our own unique circumstances. It is comforting to know that the most challenging of times has been processed and survived by another. It may be somewhat anonymous but it is nonetheless effective.