A Matter of Age, In Part

Lately I have been giving much thought to the matter of growing up, probably mostly because it has no relation to any of the stories I might be considered to be working upon at the moment. And I have now reached some quasi-conclusions.

Firstly, in large part, growing up is to become responsible, but it also necessitates a feeling for others, an ability to put others' wants before one's own. This is why my mother has said that one never really grows up until having children of his own.

Of course we cannot help growing up. (At least I have not found a way.) Yet, as with most things, we all do it differently and in different degrees. Some people do it overly much. As a result there are a great many dull people in the world. I do not say dullness is a bad thing; they might very well be happier than those who lead more interesting lives. But I cannot help thinking that growing up ought not to necessitate becoming boring. At least so for me.

Secondly, growing up is not a term that adequately describes the subject. It seems to imply no more than an increase in height. It might just as well be described as growing away.

As a child one is very close to all those around him: his siblings, his parents, his friends, and most anyone else. This is because is looking at the world entirely from his own viewpoint, and ascribing it to everyone around him. It does not occurr to him to think about different viewpoints; that is a matter that comes with maturity. This is the reason that children can be friends with anyone.

Then, as the child grow older, he begins to grow away from his family and friends. As long as he lives with his family he can never draw very far from them; he lives too close to them not to know them intimately, but he can never be as close as he was when very young. But with his friends it is a different matter, especially if he rarely sees or talks with them. He has reached the age where interests begin to diverge, and what matters most now is a sharing of interests. This is why so few people retain their childhood friends. Yet even common interests are not always enough.

It is as if we are on islands in a vast ocean, constantly drifting away from each other. We must continue to work to bridge that space between, or the ties will be broken, and we will be beyond reach, perhaps forever in earthly terms. This is what people mean when they say they are talking to someone who seems miles away, an expression I thought rather silly until recently.

Or, perhaps more fittingly, it as if there are walls between us. It is natural that the walls should have grown up, but they will prevent our friendships only if we let them remain. All we must do is pull down the walls, brick by brick. In most circumstances it takes no more than a little effort.

Yet there are times we refuse to break down the wall. We let it remain and grow larger. Why?

It is natural for us to seek safety and to cling to it. When we have a steady rhythm to our lives we feel a sense of security and therefore want nothing to change because we do not want to lose our safety. We do not like to step outside the well-known and therefore the safe. Even when things are about to change drastically, we pretend to ourselves and to others that things are the same, that they are just as usual, and we dare not speak of more than trivial matters. Thus we let the walls grow taller.