THE OTHER SIDE OF EN

In Japanese, we have a word: en (縁). It means connection—not the surface-level contact list, but those invisible strings that tie us to one another. Heart strings. Soul strings. The kind that pull you into the lives of people who somehow ... just fit.

I feel deeply blessed with certain friends who have become like family. They help my kids with homework. They remember birthdays. They stand in the kitchen with me while I cook, or sit at the table long after the meal is done. We share our homes, our lives, our laughter. That’s en in its most beautiful form—mutual, effortless, and alive.

But there’s another side to en that we don’t talk about enough.

In Japan, we’re taught to honor en—especially blood en, family ties. And because of that, many people keep connections alive long after they’ve stopped feeling true, or healthy, even. Out of duty. Out of guilt. Out of the idea that family should always stay close.

But sometimes, this kind of "should-ed" closeness comes at the cost of peace.

I’ve come to believe that respecting en also means knowing when to love from afar. You can hold someone in appreciation without letting their energy into your home—or your heart. You can honor the relationship without making yourself so available.

Some en are meant to be nurtured nearby. Others are meant to be blessed and released. Both are en, just in its different expression.

Because love doesn’t always need proximity. Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do—for yourself and for them—is to love them from far away.