Some friendships are borne of time. Sitting together in 3rd grade, on the same team in high school, shared a commute in college, or a mentor in grad school. Neighbors, office buddies, room mates, project partners, professional rivals. All folks who never would've met but for their allocation in the cubicles of capitalist civilization. But even of these, those with natural affinity link deeper and last longer. They are friends because they have been.

Some friendships are borne of circumstance. The doctor who delivered your baby, the stranger who caught you from falling on vacation, the acquaintance who was able to recover documents and photos from your crashed computer, the one person who talks to you at a busy party where you don't quite fit in. Moments from your life where a simple generous gesture by one good person saved you, in the largest and smallest of ways, where you can feel nothing but gratitude for an unexpected kindness. These friendships may not be kept up as much as the others, but they are remembered.

It is good to have friends. It is lucky to have friends. The better friends come from more than one of the above, and remind you of the fondness of friendship. But the very best friends, from wherever they come, will come for you, regardless of their natural fit, be there time or not, in circumstances well and ill. And they remind you of the fierceness of friendship.

My company's CEO Robert introduced me to the idea of the Infinite Game, endeavors with no clear winners, no end in sight, that can seem to go on forever and never give back recognition and reward. But that is no reason to not play. In fact, most worthwhile things in life are infinite games: raising a child, living a marriage, running a company.

Earlier this year I developed a sciatic pain in my lower back, which then went to the hip, the thigh, the calf, the foot. As it grew and changed and evolved, and every therapist and doctor and healer gave it their best but could not offer a solution, I wondered if I would ever recover. I told my father how this was an unusually long ailment, how most things I have usually heal in a couple weeks, a month at most. He told me about the time his knee hurt for four years, while walking, every time he had to kick the scooter, and then eventually it fixed itself. Four years! He couldn't've known that it would fix eventually. Perhaps he had faith, belief, even confidence. But not knowledge. He gave me the same advice, that I could go to every massuesse, chiropractor, and physical therapist, for months on end, and at great expense, and eventually I'll find somethat that helps and I'll be okay. Or I can just do nothing, and live my life, and eventually I'll be okay. When everyone I saw either had no effect or made things worse, I stopped seeking out more help, and just grew to accept my condition. Thankfully, I could tell that it was improving, if slowly, and today I am almost entirely healed. Still cannot walk as quickly or gracefully or thoughtlessly as before, but have no more pain or weakness or numbness. And hopefully I'll continue to strengthen and improve. This is a journey whose end I couldn't see, but seems to be arriving.

More recently I discovered that I have a fractured tooth. Have had one for a while, but it was too slight to be caught in X-Rays and CT Scans, so I just lived with the slight discomfort. Until one day when I bit in to Domino's Pizza of all things, and really aggrevated it. I was in New York and had to find an emergency dentist appointment, who finally identified it and recommended I get it crowned. I came back to Philadelphia, and 4-5 appointments later it was. Yet today, I still have pain and sensitivity, and may have to go back, get the crown removed, and have the tooth taken out entirely. Will that stop the pain? I don't know. Will I ever be able to chew normally again? I don't know. This is a journey whose end I cannot see, but one day will arrive.

All journeys come to an end, even if you cannot see them. And whent they do, be it sudden or slow, bitter or sweet, or somewhere in between, it is not the end that is satisfying, but the entire journey. Every single minute of it.

The fact that it will end can be worrying, and take you out of the moment. It can be calming, and make you appreciate the moment even more. It can be inspiring, urging to make the most of this moment.

The time for boldness is now. The time for action is now. The time to lead, to follow, to see, to go out there and do it, to live free and full and joyous and wild, is now. If not now, when? If not us, who? For all the endless journeys we're on, none of them are truly endless. Before it ends, take it all in. There will never be another day like today, for better or worse.

A journey ends today. A new one begins tomorrow.

Was it when I knew I liked beautiful women? When I wrote my first apology letter? When I wrote my first program?

Perhaps when I could lie and manipulate. Or when I could articulate my ideal job. When I slammed my first door, or wrote my first song.

The first death in the family? Caring for a mentally unstable parent? Standing up to the elders and defending what was right?

Doing user research, web design, print design, and copywriting for startups and upstarts? Getting in to college, and writing production software? Making friends on the basis of sincerity and goodness, not just fun?

When I flew the first time, getting into graduate school and leaving everyone behind, coming to a home I'd never been before? Learning a new organization of life, customs, traditions, and mores each more charmingly peculiar than the last? Spending years alone, without friends, coming to an acceptance of lovelessness?

How about when I got my first job, and met my best friend? And others who never knew me as a child, but only as a working professional? Who took me to bars and road trips and burlesque shows and listened seriously to what I had to say?

Or when I truly did fall in love, and was summarily disabused? Or the years it took for me to come to terms with it?

Or when I got my second job, with even more grace and prestige, that filled me with a sense of safety and meaning and belonging?

My first solo trip? My first mountain hike? My first friend's wedding? When I became a writer, a painter, a speaker, a yogi? When I lost my last grandparent?

When I was forgiven, and forgave in return? When I tried again? When I became a lover, and almost a husband, but then didn't?

Was it when I couldn't stand, or walk, or eat anymore? Or when I started describing my limp as stylish, and accepted the lopsided chewing as normal?

Am I an adult now?

The answer is: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24, 26, 28, 30, 32, 34, and yes.

Growing up I had to learn to escape when angry. Sadness shrinks and happiness grows upon sharing, but anger only causes pain. To protect those around me from the stabs of my anger, I recuse myself to remoteness, waiting for the weight of the emotion to ebb, for a return to reason with a crumb of contrition. This escape spared them, but it also spared me from learning to disagree with dignity, contradict without losing my cool, and assert without being an asshole. Skills that I'm only now beginning to appreciate, imbibe, and exercise.

Despondence can also be treated by travel. Unmoving water stagnates, while running rivers stay fresh. The experience of a new space, or even just a different one, can transform the state of mind, and even its opinion of itself. A bird you've never seen before, a surprisingly fun toy from a gift shop, snippets of unknown music as you walk by, the sun setting on an unfamiliar horizon, dessert with an unusual twist: travel brings many delights. Delight is best when least expected, and the despondent expect very little.

Of all the wisdom my father has given me, and there is much of it, this is one of my most cherished nuggets. Most good things come to those who wait, and there is great value in patience, in biding your time and waiting for the right moment. But until then, when you find yourself stuck, remember that all you have to do is move.

The length of your failures spans a lifetime. You have been an insufferable child, a careless sibling, a lazy worker, a cruel lover, and an indifferent friend. You could make an awful parent. All these years that so many have loved you, cared for you, invested in you: what do you have to show for it? Your sass on Twitter and your ass on Instagram? Your obsession with fitness and therapy and #selfcare and the uncanny ability to lose your shit if anyone god forbid uses the incorrect pronouns? The pinnacle of millennial achievement, a generation so busy blaming those who came before to never realize that their own burgeoning ego wrapped in self-righteousness casts a shadow that's eclipsing the world.

And yet, do you not have friends who see you? Do you not have parents who love you, in their own way that no one else ever can? Have you not known a love, however brief, that saw past your flaws? Have you not worked to make your corner of the world a better place? Have you not shared good food with loved ones, with grass beneath your feet and the open skies above, and spoken the truth of your heart? And listened to the same said to you? And understood? Have you not, for a precious few moments in life, experienced peace of mind? A contentment that comes from the knowledge that you're in the right place, at the right time, with the right person?

You have failed more than you ever expected. And you will fail more than you can imagine. It is only going to get harder. Today is the youngest you'll ever be. Failure is more than guaranteed, it is inevitable. Success, on the other hand, is up to you: don't give up too early, but don't wait too late.

Out of civility, of chivalry, of courtesy and consideration, I absorb it inside. My manner becomes slightly quieter, slightly distracted, slightly less thoughtful. There is a sharpness that edges in to my voice. It's subtle, and hard to pick up by those not used to my regular degree of quietude, distraction, and thoughtlessness. The pressure builds, until it can be held no more, and then bursts outside, in a moment of wild abandon.

It is quick, and sudden, and shocking. A clap of lightning utters a mean, hurtful thing while something very breakable is flung across the room on its final flight. And then there is silence — stoic, calm, unbreakable silence. And no amount of screaming, or weeping, or reason, or kindness will get through. As the shock resonates outwards, so does it inwards. It takes a while for my faculties to return.

Upon recovery, the first sensation is powerlessness, followed closely by guilt. Guilt, for having been powerless against the rising anger. For not having directed it towards a worthy goal, but to have succumbed to it so easily. For hurting those I love, not unintentionally or by accident or in the revelation of a great truth, no: deliberately and with full intent to hurt, in an act of directed vengeance for the way I felt, which was not their fault, and often not even in their control or awareness.

It is always the ones I love that are hurt the most by my anger. You only ever get angry at those you love, as they say in India. Those that deserve it the least. But this is the price for loving me.

Also read this poem on Anger.

Love is not a limited resource. Attention is.

It is when you are able to be
your most honest self,
with ease and with glee.

Spending time with friends
makes you feel lighter.
It eases the burden
and propels the jubilation.

So many things are easier with friends.
I have friends who really listen to what I say,
and I love them for it.
And I have friends who don’t really listen at all,
and I love them for that too.

It is good to be deep,
and wonderful to be glib. The interplay of ideas,
the banter of buddies,
the tandem of tone transcends
mere conversational exchange
and realizes the ever elusive state
of social comfort:
where no one is awkward,
no one is pretending,
no one is sacrificing for the sake of the other,
where two people in service to themselves
are perfectly servicing each other,
where the vibe is sweet,
and safe,
and good.

It is good to have friends.
And it is lucky to have friends.

Go outside, climb a hill.
Enough of solo Netflix & chill.
Be in nature, smell the flowers.
Stop YouTube after three hours.

Listen to people, call your gran.
Stop staring at girls on Instagram.
I’d make things better with this plan,
if only I had the attention span.

I cannot feel you
without also being felt.
The soft strokes soothing,
the warmth that makes me melt.

The hum of your sweet voice
resonates within my chest.
Who knew that being this close
would help me open best.

Three weeks in tempest spent aroused
with the hustle of a mini hoard:
a sustained release compacted dose
of the magical Maxxxie Ford.

Though her blood runs warm and eyes aflame
and she loves the seductive art,
beneath the masque and within her breast
beats a tender, angel’s heart.

There are those that fade from memory,
and those that scar the mind.
But a gentler, softer, sexier brand
nevermore shall I find.