The Art of Friendship

How choices and circumstances can thwart our time and intent, and what we can do about it.

“How often do you connect with your friends Aunt Pegge?” Lulu and I were driving on Funny River Road, on a slick dark night, -20F in Alaska, after delivering refuse to the dumpster and now heading back to my home.

Eyes on the road, I paused at her honest question. We’d been reflecting for nearly two weeks about lifestyle, relationships, boundaries, passion projects, writing projects, living situations, desire, and work—100% remote versus in a daily workplace, or shared work hub.

I replied, “Humm, good question. I’m not sure—in person, maybe once or twice a month? And, I have a few friends I message or talk to daily or every now and again, and my writing group.”

I felt her energetic gasp, then she spoke in the darkness, “Oh Aunt Pegge, that’s not very much. I connect with or see my friends almost every day.”

We sat in quiet for a few seconds, the rhythmic left blinker click, click, click the only sound in the night, waiting to turn into my driveway, watching truck headlight beams approach and reflect on the one-lane icy road.

Lulu continued speaking as we turned, “Even though I’ve been living in the cabin up in the mountains, and people rarely come there, I see my friends almost every day in town when I go surfing, play beach volleyball, go to yoga, hang out, or go on hikes or adventures.”

Since our conversation a week ago, I’ve been pondering her lifestyle at 28 in Santa Barbara, California, and mine here in Alaska. I’ve shared her question and observation about the value and need for quality time with two local friends.

I do now realize something I hadn’t: over several years, I’ve unwittingly limited my life and I now recognize I’m entering a season where I deeply desire more play, connection, leisure, and fun. And although I do not seek daily social connections, I recognize I’ve unknowingly restricted myself.

Lulu departed Alaska the next day, a Thursday, and with our conversation in my awareness, I’m breathing peacefully into the energetic field of my body, heart, mind, and spirit, opening to the genuine desire for connection.

I’m happy—and surprised—to see how rapidly an organic shift is occurring as soon as I named my desire for genuine heartfelt connections with energizing friends, and gave permission for this intent, and time to fulfill the yearning.

What’s happening…

Thursday…

I followed through with a “yes” the same day Lulu departed, to go to Kaladi Brothers, a local coffee shop, where Bunny Swan, my first and forever bff friend in Alaska, was playing live music in the afternoon. I’m excited she’s working on a new album and want to be present and supportive with her in this creative journey. She and her husband live about 25 minutes from me in winter driving weather, so we don’t see each other in person as often as we’d both like since we both tend to nestle in during the winter season of fur and twinkle lights. We do text at all hours of the night, since we both tend to be night owls.

At the coffee shop a few minutes from my home, I connected with an interesting woman at our table whose name I knew in passing—we had a lovely conversation, exchanging numbers. A man picked up his coffee order, recognizing my table mate, and then me. We were due for a long-overdue conversation from the previous spring, when we had met on Zoom and talked about a freelance work project. He apologized for ghosting me—I shared I had no ill-will and offered I could have reached out again to him to follow-up and hadn’t. We caught up on life, loss, and work—and this unexpected connection in present time was a completion and gift.

That evening around 6:00 p.m., I’d snuggled into the leather couch in my great room overlooking the frozen Kenai River to continue turning pages in Kristin Hanna’s compelling new book, The Women. It’s a five-star story—don’t miss it! I rarely made time to sit in this space, solo, with an evening stretching ahead of me.

My cell alerted me to a new text from Bunny, “Come to Mykel’s! Live music! I stayed in town!” I began to text, “sorry…” then stopped, recalling my niece’s question to me about friendship, and the understanding that I desired face-to-face in person connection.

The really good book could wait. I surprised myself and replied, “Okay, I’ll be there in 10 mins!” The evening of music and company was delightful.

Living in town affords me this ease of closeness, in contrast to living 14 miles out of town on a dark, one-lane highway drive with moose often crisscrossing it. During the thirteen years of living in my beloved “Zen house in the woods” in Kasilof with a spectacular sunrise along the Kenai Mountains every morning, when I arrived at my cozy log home after work during autumn and winter months, once the wood stove flickered with flame and warmth, I rarely went back out.

Over the decades now ... the best of a longtime Alaska friendship through summer fun, and looong winters requiring twinkle lights and fur!

Monday…

Monday afternoon another local friend texted, “Music at the the Flats tonight. Want to join us for dinner?” Why yes I do! “Sure,” I replied, “What time?”

It felt good to be out and about after a solo weekend of projects, dogs, and a quiet Superbowl Sunday at home. We shared past memories, and all got so excited about upcoming life events for special women in the family!

Wednesday…

Wednesday, February 14, 2024, arrived, celebrating both Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday—a bit of a contradiction I chose not to write about, except to reflect that both are, in their essence, about love. Love of self, God, and other.

I recognize that opening the present time in my life is also about both relationship and spirit—through heart connection with my own deepest yearnings, the invitation of Spirit, and connection with others.

On this particular Wednesday, the local carpet store was sending a crew over to install new foam padding and to restretch the thick and now very dry carpet after a frozen and busted baseboard heater pipe welcomed me home from the holidays in January with a water event. The mitigation was complete, no mold, tongue and groove planks fitted back on the walls, and all that remained after this step would be a good shampoo of the carpet, putting furniture back in place, and ordering freeze sensors for every room with a thermostat.

While making a morning splurge of French press coffee and waiting the four minutes for the coffee to steep after its blossom, I read a post on Substack (an online publishing platform providing direct connection between writers and readers) from the brilliant Jenny Blake, a heart-based business entrepreneur who has written two significant books in my life—Pivot and Free Time: Lose the Busywork and Love Your Business—and also become a cherished friend.

Embedded in her Substack message was a note, “P.S. for paying subscribers, the first ten people to ‘click here’ will get an extra sweet surprise! I wish it could have been for all of you … next time 😊” Yay—I happened to be one of the first ten, and though I felt a little guilty, wanting her to splurge on newer subscribers instead of me, I am delighted that my chosen cookies from her Sugarwish gift will arrive to Alaska any day!

Jenny’s continued generosity inspired me—so I went to the basement to a box of unpacked coffee mugs from my move three years ago, seeking to retrieve the “Soul Sister” mug she surprised me with years ago. And found it!

Soul Sister favorite coffee mug, retrieved from a packing box! Mugs have stories!

As I began sipping my brew, Ding! My friend Christine unexpectedly texted. Most days we message each other, and she knows me as well as anyone, though we don’t often see each other face to face except for a monthly or thereabouts lunch. She asked, “Want to meet me and Rigby for a walk at the Sports Center?” My quick reply, “Sorry, I can’t. Carpet guys are due any minute. Come by after and I’ll make you coffee!”

To our delight, in less than an hour, we were together, coffee in hand, talking about all sorts of things, including the value of friendship, time, energy, and my awareness about how I’d slowly shrunk my outings the past four years, along with new understanding why that had happened.

Talking and listening, I delighted in our connection, said a silent thank you for the mug from Jenny, and flowers that have bloomed for weeks—an unexpected gift from Kerrie, a dear long-time friend from Colorado—and her generosity in late January with blooms reaching across decades and miles to bring me comfort on the eighteenth anniversary of my son’s death.

Friendships, especially spontaneous times, are the best!

I revealed to Christine that I’d begun to understand more clearly how I’d arrived at this place in my life.

In 2020 when the COVID-19 pandemic began, my pod became me and my dad, who had returned to Alaska earlier then my mother, and then when everything shut down, she was in California, and he was in Alaska. I worked 10–14 hour days, six to seven days a week, as the director of communications for the K-12 school district on the Kenai Peninsula—geographically diverse, and the size of West Virginia.

That fall, still during lockdown and working fulltime, I sold my beloved log home and moved to town. I’d purchased a property from my parents and moved into a lodge two doors upriver from theirs on the Kenai River.

Living a short walk through the woods to my parent’s place, my dad and I fell into a rhythm, especially during the 18 months of me recovering from Long COVID. Every evening, he cooked us dinner—and he was a great chef, delighting in this hobby in his retirement years.

In December 2020, my parents chose two puppies from our friend’s litter of Labrador Retrievers, and I’d receive a text most days, “The dogs are waiting to see you, what time can we expect you?” Or, “Dinner will be ready at 6:00!”

I’M HERE! | Beloved pups, awhile before they came to live with me permanently.

Between my nightly visit and cribbage game with my Dad, on Zoom I connected with my weekly evening writing group based in Kauai, or occasional time with a man I’d see when he had free time from work, travel, and sharing parenting of his children.

Discerning to leave my high-stress work at the school district after eleven years, running two start-up businesses, and taking care of an 8,000 sf property, I’d unexpectedly created a life rhythm and circle that was suddenly quite small. This is likely true for many of us, through those years of 2020-2022 with after-effects continuing to be felt. Sometimes I wished that I could have been home during lock-down, instead of working long hours, every day, navigating something we’d never experienced. And I’m grateful I had an income, and way to contribute, even as isolating and polarized as this time became.

I see a lot of people in the summer months, and honestly lean toward being an introvert, looking forward to quieter restorative time to write, wander, and create. I’m so much better 1-1 than in larger groups or crowds. I can extrovert easily when I have the quieter time to recharge.

Leaning into 2023, my health greatly improved, maybe better than in decades, in late June 2023, my best friend and beloved Dad died unexpectedly.

Suddenly, the two youngish, very active litter-mate Labradors came to live with me and Kula—my ten-year-old Labrador—at my home and lodge. As the only family member currently living in Alaska, responsibilities added up, including stepping into running my parents RV Park that already had guests, overseeing their multiple properties, together with my two businesses plus contract communications work with a non-profit, writing my new book, letting go of that longtime now too-casual relationship with a man I’ve cared about, and yes, I cannot ignore this one though it became secondary—grieving my Dad.

2023 became my summer to understand with urgency, I am my father’s daughter who can do hard things, and also understand what it was to live, as Jenny Blake aptly named it, my “Summer of Obligation.”

Nearing my birthday in October, I realized that I feel sad and lonely. I am alone in Alaska. For many years I’d done my share of anticipatory grief imagining what it would be like to live here on my own, yet I didn’t expect it this soon. Then a few weeks later, an aha provided a sudden shift into an empowering and liberating realization that,

Yes, I’m alone. And, I’m on my own. I can choose now—where I live, the work that is lifegiving, activities and relationships that are reciprocal and bring joy.

As fall and an early snow arrived, I turned inward even more, without realizing it. In need of rest, I began to live with the seasons, let go, follow-up on so many things I’d had to ignore for years, and focus on healthier boundaries.

Thursday…

I met on Zoom for 90 minutes with Shannon, a badass writer and friend I admire and connected with for several years in my online writing group. Her writing is extraordinary—like drinking from a fire hose. We were both all in for our first “official” weekly 1-1 connect time.

Meeting face-to-face for a week, after many Zoom years, in Kauai for a playday, then at the Kauai Writers Conference. Her manuscript is soooo good!

In February she’d invited me to consider meeting weekly, 1-1, to be supportive writing partners for accountability, response, and inspiration to further each of us to complete our books. Heck, YES, was my reply to her, and I felt like it was an honor to be asked. Our interaction and increased connection with friendship and creativity was and will be life-giving, an answered prayer, a favor to our future selves, future readers, and in present time.

Friday…

It’s February now, and I understand I desire laughter, connection, contribution, cultivating friendship time, and one day, a life partner who is additive to our life together. Me in his, his in mine, each of us a priority. Give and receive.

A word that has begun rippling in me, a few weeks prior to my niece Lulu asking me how often I share time with friends, is move-on. Together with my 2024 theme of “a mighty kindness” to self and others, the idea to move-on feels in season and generous. I am ready for action, and trust I’ll easily understand my best yes and no.

Tonight, a Friday, I’ll meet up with my not quite defunct “Sour Dough” book club at the home of a feisty friend who is a great instigator—especially for our book group that doesn’t really read books anymore and drifted apart during COVID years. She’s organizing the evening for everyone to visit with a mutual friend who is back in Alaska for a few days. I look forward to the evening. I’m also giving thanks for a Valentine’s dinner my friend Bunny spontaneously decided to host, and my yes to venture out, a few nights ago.

I’m somewhat stunned at what has opened since that question from my niece, and my own recognition of what’s been silently happening in my own life, and the deeper heart desire that is making itself visible.

Saturday…

Midday, a Rotary project will commence at my place to deploy a GPS device on the frozen river to measure the best guess when it will break-up. There will be tethering needed for protection before proceeding too far to secure the device. Perhaps I too have been in a necessary freeze-up and am thawing. Maybe I’ve needed this protective time. Typically breakup in Alaska doesn’t happen until later in the spring, however, with unseasonably warm February weather the last several days—and a still very frozen land beneath it—everything is melting, like my protected heart.

In the evening, I’ll head out solo to the Frozen Riverfest—an annual outdoor live music, craft beer, and fireworks festival in Soldotna Park. I’m curious who I will see, and unexpectedly meet!

On this bright sunny winter day alongside the Kenai River in Alaska, three dogs napping at my feet, the big black one a very welcomed foot warmer, I invite you too to reflect upon your friendships:

• Who are the people (or places, activities, or critters) who most energize you?

• How current is your yes and no to invitations, to your deepest desires and yearnings?

• Are you in a settling mood? A season of letting-go or clearing? A time of move-on that has first steps of action? Or perhaps, like so many, feeling anxiety and stress, simply getting-by.

• What do you long for more of?

• Are there friendships to let-go of, or re-kindle?

• Where does love find you? Where do you share your love and friendship, genuine heart-felt connection with others?

What’s the invitation for you today?
Go, do that!

Make a playdate with a friend, critter, lover, life partner, family member, place, or perhaps solo with yourself, or even with God.

I truly believe that when we breathe and risk feeling into our highest good, our heart-based energetic field, anything is possible.

My blessings and light stream with you to cultivate friendships that bring gratitude and meaning to your everyday life.

With love,
Pegge

ps: I’m so grateful for friends close and far who are so present to me, when there’s been so many times I’ve been so absent for this reason or that, that I may have communicated, or not.
I’ve wanted to create a holiday card for years, then it turns into a New Year’s card, then a Valentine’s card, then a summer solstice card, then time passes, another year passes, repeat.
What I want you to know, if this is you, and you are reading this … I love each and every one of you, and it is my intent to be present, never to cause harm.
I am sorry if you’ve felt let-down, ghosted, or abandoned by me—that was never my intention or wish. I’m so sorry, I love you, ask for your forgiveness, and thank you for the gift of you. Peace be with you.