A recent post by Strat got me thinking about my high school days. When I was a freshman girl involved in theatre, all my friends were senior Thespian boys (go figure), so I got into all the trouble-making earlier than I might have. I was fourteen when I started drinking, and though I never smoked cigarettes I did smoke pot on occasion. We got drunk in a local forest preserve, then piled into a couple of cars (I remember one time when seven of us in crammed into a tiny, two-door, early 80s Ford Escort) to make for Jakes Pizza or someone’s house for a Wall Party. My boyfriend and his fellow band friends took great delight in sign stealing, and left their mark on streets and public buildings (missing letters, missing signs) throughout the area for years after.
Our school was somewhat more strict than Strat’s, it seems. Absolutely no cola on campus (except for the coke machine in the teacher’s lounge, which we routinely broke into during weekend play rehearsals), no cigarettes (except those smuggled into the bathrooms between classes), no off-campus lunches even for seniors. I remember a few hair-raising off-campus lunches with my friends, too, as well as quite a bit of hell-raising on the weekends. I wonder how much my parents knew or suspected? Even at nearly 36, I don’t plan to enlighten them about those teenage escapades.
We’d remained friends and in semi-regular contact long past our respective graduation dates, through college and most of the 90s. But in the last few years, we seem to have gone our own ways: One of them turned criminal--he was one of the sign stealers and now steals money via fraudulent means, and you can find him in local paper archives. One female friend, who floated on the periphery of our core group, became an exotic dancer where she met her husband, then later got her degree in English at 31.
Another found God in a big way, but still we remain in contact and respect one another’s path.
Two were born again and I haven't heard from them in years, I being the group heathen and therefore damned to eternal hell and below their recognition. I like to think they think of me now and again and pray for my soul. I’d rather have that than emptiness and misplaced pity in their hearts when they remember their female group mascot over whom they were once so protective.
Last week, I uncovered a blog belonging to one of them (reborn about 18 months ago). He’s a talented guitarist whose poetic writing style reminds me strikingly of Strat’s. In that blog, there was almost none of his former poesy. He spoke of mundane matters in a mundane style, except for every other sentence referring to God and needing to devote all aspects of one’s life to Him.
In one of his later posts, he had spoken of feeling uninspired, that the room he had dedicated to his creative and musical pursuits has done little more for him than collect dust. His posts became sporadic. And it occurred to me that instead of using his talents as a celebration of Divinity, he may have chased down the path that causes Divinity to choke the creative from him. Reading his posts made me sad, and it struck me that he sounded less accepting of his chosen path than trying to convince himself of its perceived rightness.
Another, a stout atheist in HS and beyond, attained his PhD in Theology and converted to Judaism while still at university.
And still another remains very much the same as he’s always been: a forty-year-old Catholic, somewhat more bitter than before, still as depressive and self-absorbed as ever, and doesn’t understand why he can’t keep a girlfriend and why he goes so long between. Don’t mistake me. He’s a gentle soul, musical, articulate and creative, and a good friend to have. My description isn't mean, just honest.
I find it interesting how religion has emerged to play such a vital role in many of their lives and has effectively managed to separate us. A part of me resents that I’ve lost to religion two of the people I’ve held dear for many years. Something about that doesn’t seem right. According to people “like them”, someone like me—with no set rules of Divinity to follow, with a propensity toward a kind of nature worship and affection for goddess tradition—is now unworthy of their friendship. I, who have never said an unkind word to them or about them, who have always regarded them with a friend’s love, am now below their regard simply because our priorities differ in this particular thing.
Shouldn’t Divinity should be inclusive, not exclusive? I respect the various paths my friends chose and I don’t begrudge them their methods of filling the empty places in their hearts. I have my own ways, but certainly don’t place them above anyone else’s. The Divine, after all, takes an infinite variety of forms. But it’s a real shame when we feel the need to sacrifice one form of love to embrace another.
This year, we’ll have all been friends for 22 years. Why would anyone want to forsake that? Why would the Divine, in any form, expect one to repudiate friendship? Isn't love supposed to be the whole point?
