At the recently concluded CACU Pastorals’ Retreat, I shared a picture book about a little magpie and a rocky mountain. This story has always reminded me and warmed my heart. What, then, is true companionship?
By chance, the little magpie once came across a rocky mountain that had stood in loneliness for hundreds of years, without a single friend. The magpie, Ali, became its very first companion. From time to time, Ali would visit, sharing stories about what he had seen and experienced in the world. Each time, he also brought a seed, and even introduced new friends to the mountain.
Year after year, the barren mountain gradually transformed into a lush green one. Birds began to make their homes there, and the mountain became lively and full of vitality. Yet, Ali never returned. His descendants later brought news that he had passed away. Still, the mountain would never forget its very first friend.
In my own life, I have also encountered many such “little magpies.” They quietly listened to me share, always saw the light within me, and every conversation brought me hope. Through their companionship, I was able to grow slowly out of inferiority and loneliness into a cheerful and sunny version of myself. Because someone was willing to listen, I deeply felt my existence and worth. Because someone walked alongside me, I could temporarily lay down my armor, let go of my strength, and allow myself to be weak and to lean on another.
Even in smooth and successful lives, there will always be times of hardship. In facing challenges, each person has their own unique state and needs. Some want to “solve the problem quickly.” Some need to “pour out their feelings.” Others simply wish to “withdraw from people,” or long for “quiet presence.”
Recently, because of my reading group, I read the book The Psychology of Accompaniment. It points out that accompanying someone is not about immediately solving problems. True companionship is not a kind of “giving,” but a kind of “receiving.” The purpose of accompaniment is to provide a safe relationship in which a person can be held, so they can slowly touch, understand, and recognize themselves.
Most of us already have the ability to solve our own problems; it’s just that sometimes, in the midst of difficulty, these abilities are temporarily frozen. Of course, in the process of accompanying, boundaries are necessary. We should not exhaust all of our emotional energy in the name of companionship. “Drawing boundaries” is not an act of selfishness. Selfishness is self-centered, caring only for one’s own concerns, thinking, What does another person’s problem have to do with me? and adopting an attitude of indifference.
“Drawing boundaries” means: I know that you and I are different. My feelings and needs are not the same as yours. Because I recognize this difference, I respect and accept the way you present yourself, but I do not let it overwhelm me. I still remain aware of my own position and role, as well as my feelings and thoughts.
One day, I came across a passage online that resonated deeply with me, and I’d like to conclude my sharing with it:
Accompaniment
is staying still,
not rushing forward;
it is discovering the mystery of silence,
not filling every painful moment with words;
it is listening with the heart,
not analyzing with the mind;
it is witnessing another’s struggle,
not instructing them to escape it;
it is being present in another’s suffering,
not taking away their pain;
it is honoring disorder and chaos,
not reinforcing order and logic;
it is journeying with another
into the depths of the soul,
not shouldering the task of leading them out of the valley.
— Alan D. Wolfelt
Rev. Ping Li