Skip to main content

Friend, Foe, and Worthy Adversary

Not long ago, I heard someone refer to a friend as a worthy adversary during a class. I had never thought about friendship in that way. The reference came from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Essay on Friendship:

“…Let him be to thee forever a sort of beautiful enemy, untamable, devoutly revered, and not a trivial convenience to be soon outgrown and cast aside.”

When I heard the quote, the first image that came to mind was two people fencing. I could imagine the steady back-and-forth—the rhythm of attack and defense—where neither is trying to hurt the other. Each movement demands attention, presence, and respect. With every push, the other is forced to improve, to become faster, sharper, smarter. Simply better.

This is not a foe. Not someone who wishes you harm, unhappiness, or failure. Not someone who wants to see you wrong.

One of the things I value most in friendship is precisely this: finding those worthy adversaries who are willing to test me, push me, and—even at the risk of my temporary discomfort—tell me a hard truth that I need to hear, sit with, and reflect on.

I will never forget a dear friend from college who once told me to be patient, gently reminding me that everyone had to put up with me as I exasperated them quite often as well. Another friend taught me to let others set the pace and to be less frustrated when a carefully planned schedule was suddenly thrown out the window. I could go on, but honestly, this list would be endless.

I have learned so much from my friends, and I feel deeply grateful for the privilege of being part of their lives. I adore them profoundly. Each of them offers me a different point of view, helping me get closer to the truth. I can only see and understand so much on my own. Talking, listening attentively, and remaining open to how they experience life and face daily struggles allows me to construct a reality far richer and more complex than the one I could ever grasp alone.

I believe we cannot be a beautiful enemy unless we are able to offer a psychologically safe space—one in which a friend can be challenged and still feel supported. A space where growth is possible. Where someone can fully be themself: the good, the bad, and the ugly. In conversation and in silence. In laughter and boredom. In vulnerability and strength. Sharing both light and shadow.

My friends leave—and have left—many footprints on me. Some have pressed deeper than others, some have hurt more, but all of them have helped shape who I am today.

So, keep bringing it on.

 Are you a good friend, foe or worthy adversary?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Love or the Lack of it

Over the years, I’ve noticed a recurring truth: every time my heart feels restless, it’s because of love—or the absence of it. Love is the ultimate reason behind almost everything we experience. Think about it: when someone walks into a room and doesn’t say hello, it’s not just a matter of bad manners. It makes you feel invisible. That sense of invisibility steals your peace because, deep down, you don’t feel loved by that person. And I mean not loved, which is different from unloved. When we feel a sense of injustice, it often stems from a lack of love toward someone. It could be as small as someone eating the last piece of cake without asking if anyone else wanted some, or as inconsiderate as not replacing the toilet paper roll. I remember once rushing to make it to a meeting on time, only to find my friends arriving 30 minutes—sometimes even an hour—late. The examples are endless, but here’s what I’ve realized: whenever our hearts feel battered, if we pause and dig deep enough, we’l...

Being Intentional: The Power of Planning Ahead

Many years ago, right after moving here, I went to a dentist. Before leaving, they asked me to schedule my next routine appointment. Since I had never done that before, it felt a bit exaggerated to book something six months in advance. But then I remembered the saying: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” So, I did. After years of scheduling routine appointments for doctors and dentists ahead of time, I’ve realized the system is brilliant. We all need those checkups, and the sooner we schedule them, the better. It’s not just about securing a convenient time—it’s about making sure we don’t forget altogether. A couple of months ago, after dinner with friends, I suggested we set up our next meal right away—two months later. With our busy schedules, I wanted to maximize the chances that everyone could make it. To my surprise, everyone loved the idea, and it worked perfectly. That experience made me think: how many other things could we plan intentionally—things that don’t have an ulterior ...

From Sedentary Faith to Audacious Trust

Last week, I read something that deeply resonated with me: the idea that  sedentism —a concept we usually associate with our physical lifestyle—has also quietly settled into our spiritual lives. It’s not just about how we seek food, shelter, or comfort anymore. It’s about how we approach faith. The reflection suggested that, since the Industrial Revolution, many of us have lived with a sense of safety and stability. That comfort has seeped into our spirituality. As long as we avoid major sins—like harming others—we assume we’re on the right path, bound for Heaven. But this kind of passive faith, shaped by comfort, can become weak. It doesn’t require boldness. It doesn’t demand trust in God when things fall apart. I had never thought about faith in this way. I’ve always seen myself as someone fairly courageous. But when I paused to reflect, I realized that four years ago, three of the biggest “certainties” in my life were stripped away. Beyond the pain and sadness, that moment marke...