The Wolves in Our Pack – The New and Novel
The following 5-Part Series will examine men’s friendships; how we find them, how we cultivate them, and what they do for us, and our friends.
After we had navigated through the thick green bushes and the soft, peaty floor of the jungle, we saw the entrance to the cave. It’s mouth gaped wide but its jagged ceiling quickly lowered revealing the narrow passage we were about to swim into.
“The last time I was here,” Ben said, “I saw a crocodile. But he left me alone. He was young. Just curious.”
I was standing on the rocky edge of a cenote, a water cave outside of Tulum, Mexico. Ben didn’t share the name of the cenote, and he said he only takes certain clients and friends there. After having met him only four days prior, I knew that I had become his friend, as he had become mine.
We stepped down into the water, flashlights in hand and began our swim into the pitch black cave. The flutter of bats’ wings just a couple of feet overhead, plus our gentle breast stokes through the water were the only sounds. When I dipped my head below the surface, flashing my light beam into the water, the cave floor plunged hundreds of feet.
Terror, excitement, adrenaline–all of it was coursing through my body. And there was Ben, a few feet ahead, swimming calmly, narrating a few instructions.
“Swim up to that rock,” he said, “and we’ll stand there.”
Once on the rock, we caught our breath, and surveyed what was all around us: stalactites dating back to Mayan dynasties, eerily calm water, bats everywhere, and two bands of light coming from our torches.
“Now, turn your flashlight off,” Ben said.”
Lights off, the darkness of the grotto swallowed us whole. Silence enveloped us. Not a speck of light could be seen. I felt at once held and comforted by Mother Earth and relaxed and calm by the presence of my new friend.
We swam back, and safely left the cenote. No crocodile to be found. I said to Ben I thought he was going to scare me while we were swimming by grabbing my foot or something, and he gave me a sly grin saying that he thought about it.
Once in a while, we meet someone new, as though they are placed on our board of Game of Life as a novel character, a new entity with whom we might experience the unusual and rare. Such was the story with Ben. I had arrived in Tulum with a recommendation from my cousin to message Ben, who both rented rooms in his place and gave tours. Ben is the friend of my cousin’s girlfriend’s brother. We’re all from the same hometown, so there was already a built in connection.
The real connection, however, happened over coffee, sitting on the couch talking, walking to bars late night, and grabbing tacos on the way back. The friendship was effortless, easy, and so incredibly refreshing.
By some bro osmosis, Ben taught me to just be, to savor the moments. There was very little talk about our pasts and backstories. Although we shared our challenges and struggles with each other, we didn’t dwell there. We simply existed in the simple and calm. I spent only four days as his houseguest, but it felt like we had been pals for life.
This is what’s possible when we surrender to the new and novel. When we open up and relax with those we may not have a history with, exciting possibilities unfold. Our friends of yore are the men that hold us up like a belt. They support us, the keep us stable. Yet it’s those new friends, the unexpectedly cool, laidback, and welcoming, that lift us up like a new hat or a sweet pair of sunglasses. We want to be as cool as them and keep that new feeling for as long a possible.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Unsplash
