Friendship's Ancient Roots: Instinct and Connection

Well, isn’t that something? I was reading an article just yesterday – it appeared in one of those science journals Bernard likes to subscribe to - about how our choices when it comes to friendships might have roots deeper than we think. Deeper than a reasoned selection process based on shared interests or mutual support, you see. It suggests they’re tied to instincts that helped our ancestors survive.

It's easy to feel quite smug sometimes, isn’t it? To believe we are entirely in control of the decisions we make. I always felt rather proud of my own choices in friendships over the years – selecting colleagues who were intellectually stimulating, neighbors who were reliable and kind. It was a deliberate process, you understand; a cultivation. But this research implies that perhaps those cultivated gardens were planted on ground prepared by something much older than my conscious intentions.

It’s fascinating to think about what 'survival' meant for our forebears. Not the spreadsheets and quarterly reports I dealt with during my teaching career! No, it was finding safe shelter, securing food, identifying allies in a world where dangers lurked around every corner. And that meant instinctively assessing trustworthiness – who could be relied upon when times were hard? Who looked…safe?

I’ve often thought about how I chose Phyllis, you see. We met at an astrology workshop years ago, and something just *clicked*. It wasn't a logical connection; it was more of a sense of recognition, a feeling that she would be someone dependable in the long run. And now we gather for those equinox celebrations – quiet afternoons together with good food and even better conversation. Would I have made that connection if my subconscious were simply looking for someone agreeable? Perhaps. But what if there's something more at play?

It’s not, of course, a rejection of the value of conscious choice. We *do* make deliberate selections! Those things we deem important – shared values, humor, intellectual curiosity – they are all very real considerations. It’s simply that these modern criteria may be built upon an older foundation; a framework shaped by millennia of evolution.

Think about it this way: I always felt drawn to colleagues who seemed calm under pressure. Not necessarily those who were the most brilliant or innovative, but those who could remain steady when things got chaotic. That steadiness likely signaled reliability, a crucial trait in an uncertain world. And perhaps that's what my subconscious was really registering – not their competence in pedagogy, but their potential to be a supportive presence during difficult times.

Bernard always rolls his eyes at these kinds of theories, calling them "oversimplifications." He says human behavior is far too complex to reduce to evolutionary imperatives. But there’s a certain comfort, isn’t there, in the idea that we are all connected to something larger than ourselves? Something ancient and powerful? It certainly offers a new perspective on those friendships – and acquaintanceships – that have always felt just…right.

It reminds me of planting my garden this summer. I thought I was creating something beautiful and intentional, carefully selecting each bloom for its color and fragrance. But the soil itself—the underlying structure, the very foundation from which everything grew—that existed long before I arrived with my trowel and my seedlings. And it’s quite remarkable to consider that our friendships may have a similar deep-rooted history.