The Healing Power of Friendship: On Longing, and Change

Over the last few days, I spent time with dear friends, hiking, cooking, and talking for endless hours. I realized how deeply I had been missing them, especially the women in my life who form the heart of my closest circle.

Their voices, their stories, their gentle presence felt warm and familiar. These friendships have been an anchor for me for many years, my chosen family during times when my own family was far away or unable to offer the support I needed.

Allowing Ourselves to Long, Feel, and Miss

Since moving again to another country, the feeling of missing my friends has become even more intense. This year has brought major shifts, emotional, spiritual, and practical—not just for me but for many people around me.

In meditation and in daily life, I keep returning to this sense of longing. Dreams, small moments, memories, and even songs have awakened old emotions, an entire inner landscape shaped by missing and remembering.

I realized that it is okay to allow ourselves moments of longing. It is okay to miss people deeply, to feel tenderness or sadness, without rushing to fix or reduce those feelings.

I know I often write about change and transitions. It remains a central theme in my life—something woven through my stories and reflections. This time, I wanted to look at it through the lens of longing: How we must sometimes let people go, how uncomfortable feelings deserve space, and how grief and love often share the same breath.

Holding Space for Emotional Transitions

Missing friends and loved ones. Navigating big life changes. Releasing the need for approval. Trusting our hearts and our work, even when no one sees it or praises it the way we wish they would. Honoring the natural flow of emotions that rise and fall as life shifts around us.

All of these threads have been present in me lately. These past days have been filled with longing, for friends who are still here, and for loved ones who are no longer part of this physical world.

I am learning to honor these feelings fully: to give them space, to let them breathe, to allow them to be seen and felt until they gently soften and dissolve in their own time.

Longing, missing, remembering, these experiences form a quiet part of our human story. They remind us of the depth of our connections, of the lives we have lived, and of the love that continues to stretch across distance and time.

So I sit with these emotions.
I listen to them.
I honor them.
And I allow them to guide me, softly, patiently, into the next chapter.