Friendships require cultivation.

The health of a friendship demands mutuality, exchange, and sharing. There is great danger in unconscious one-sided exchange, whether on the giving or receiving end. Resentment or passivity can grow silently, like mold, and infect the relationship.

There are many different shapes and sizes of relationships, and this diversity is present within friendships too. When we think about "relationships," we can broaden our scope to include how we relate to everything. We have relationships with objects, with our thoughts, with our friends, with our family, with our loved ones, with people we haven't met, with people we've just met, with animals, with aspirations—with all things, material and immaterial. A relationship is an instance of how we relate to any subject or object. It is a scoped manifestation of relating to something or someone.

Of course, when we talk about relationships in general, we are typically talking about how we relate to other humans. Let's keep our focus there. When we meet someone new, our relationship with them has predefined parameters based on the context in which we meet. Perhaps we are just born and meeting our parents for the first time—the context predefines how we will relate in a parent-child dynamic, especially in the beginning where a child can only demand and a healthy parent comes to meet those demands. Perhaps we are meeting someone new at a bar, on the street, at a friend's home, or on a blind date—the context defines a set of norms and expectations for how we will relate to this new person. We may begin our relationship before we even meet a person—if I meet someone famous, I may have already begun relating to them through envy, jealousy, curiosity, or whatever reflection of myself and my desires I've projected onto this person. Relationships never start with a truly blank slate.

Even if the canvas of our relationship has predefined color and fabric, our relationships are malleable. How often is a first impression powerful yet wrong? How often does someone we believe has integrity disappoint us? How often will a stranger who owes us nothing, who we may think has no care for us, show up in our time of need with genuine love? Things can change—for better and for worse, with the right circumstances or cultivation.

Different cultures have different standards and expectations of friendship. When I was living in India, studying at the University of Hyderabad, I found myself late for class and stranded. A friend of mine offered me a ride on his motorcycle to get me to my class. After riding through the humid air and dirt roads, I got off the motorbike and thanked him profusely. He was annoyed. Why? Why would he be annoyed? I was thanking him! Acknowledging him for his kindness—is that not a courteous act? Is that not being a good friend?

No, it wasn't for him. He told me in a frustrated voice not to thank him. He said that's what friends do. Friends help each other out. There was no need to thank him for such a simple act of showing up.

Wow. Over a decade later, his values in friendship still resonate with me.

I still find myself thanking other people for their kindness, even if it's common or expected. I've been habituated to acknowledgment and appreciation, and it generally serves me well to express my thanks. But I always remember this friend who reminded me simply that this is what friends do. They help each other and do not require thanks.

On the other side of the globe, I've made several friends in Switzerland. The Swiss are notorious for being courteous but generally closed off to new friends. It is not easy to make Swiss friends.

Once you do become their friend, however, they are lifelong friends. There is a deep loyalty and commitment in such friendships.

I recently arrived back in Switzerland to spend time reconnecting with my heritage and to remind myself there is a world beyond (and possibly better than) the Bay Area. Seeing this friend again reminded me of the generosity and kindness in these deep friendships. My girlfriend is here with me, and she needs a bike to get around town. He and his fiancée offered to let us borrow theirs. I expressed an interest in taking a motorcycle tour. He offered to let me borrow his motorcycle. Generous, very generous! Trusting. Inspiring.

I am touched by his generosity. I am moved by his willingness to show up and share. It makes me feel closer to him.

Now, there is a dance and an etiquette to giving and receiving. As the receiver of his generosity, I feel compelled to treat what I borrow with deference and care. I want to return it in as good a condition as it was or better. If I damage his property in any way, I will compensate without hesitation—even if he deems something wrong that I did not notice and perhaps that is not my fault. I am willing to pay a premium to keep trust—especially if whatever damage incurred is a manageable, reasonable dollar amount. It is part of how I dance as the receiver.

The giver, too, has his own dance. The best dancers give without expectation—they do not expect anything in return and give freely. Giving without conditions is a sweet freedom. When they receive in return, they are pleased. There is also a trust that is given here—and an opportunity to build trust by sharing. There is risk in lending something to someone; they may not give it back, they may damage it, they may not be grateful. When the receiver returns the borrowed item or offers acknowledgment for the gift (either through a reciprocal gift or another form of appreciation), they are cultivating trust in the relationship.

And the dance goes back and forth, giving and receiving. I do not feel an expectation to give back to my friend, but I want to. I have an urge to do so. It is part of knowing that I have my part to play in the dance. My grandmother would call this "savoir vivre," knowing how to live—the etiquette of how to relate to people and honor them not just in words but in reciprocal action. Expectation impurifies the reciprocation; but giving back to those who give to us keeps balance in the friendship and cultivates its growth and depth.

When one side gives or receives too much, the friendship mutates. It becomes something else. It can become poisoned, where resentment or entitlement festers between the two. Or it could change shape—it could become a mentorship or shift into a power-imbalanced dynamic. It is wise to keep aware of these dynamics and purify them whenever we can.

Friendships are like plants and flowers. They take time to grow. They require the right conditions. An astute gardener will cultivate, water, restore the soil, and provide the nutrients for the friendship to blossom.

What will you do to grow and cultivate your relationships?