FRIENDS
OF
FRIENDS
FEAST

It's a chosen-family affair. We've all been there: an invitation to someone's home slips through the grapevine and reaches your ear. Is it ok if I just show up? Do I need to bring something? What if I don't know anyone? It's an occasion that starts with a lot of anxiety (unless you have been particularly gifted in the art of blindly walking into any social environment and not feeling like you want to just hang out with the dog for the whole night). Your hands are a bit clamy. You try to make yourself look busy by asking the host, "Is there anything I can do?" but they always say, "Just enjoy yourself!". All of a sudden, it feels like the only way you can enjoy yourself is if you had a position to fill, a part to play, a purpose to serve. You want a task. A task to distract you from the see of faces you don't know. But, you've been doing tasks all week! It's a Saturday night! This is sabbath time! But, you're overwhelmed. Who do I talk to? They look like their in a deep conversation over there. Someone just reached the punchline of their joke over there and you hear a roar of laughter. If you join them now, you won't understand the joke. Why are you even here? You're so awkward! You should really just go home, you're embarassing yourself. But then, you feel the light touch of a hand resting on your elbow, it's a familiar face. They say, "There's someone you have to meet!"

There's something quite beautiful when you lean into a room full of strangers. There's something different about this space. People aren't purely talking about their jobs or accalades, but rather the matters of the heart. Yes, there's the pouring of the wine and the serving of food, but it's as if all of these things are just tools facilitating the next level of connection. We aren't here to eat, but rather gorge ourselves on knowledge of the other.

Guards come down around this table.