It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to

In the warm and reflective words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, sage of the transcendental spirit, we find a truth both tender and eternal: “It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” With this gentle wisdom, Emerson speaks not of foolishness in its degrading form, but of freedom — the freedom to lay aside the masks we wear before the world, to be simple, unguarded, and wholly ourselves. In this statement lies the heart of friendship: the rare companionship in which one may drop all pretense, unburden the soul of its dignity, and find joy in the easy laughter of those who know us too well to judge.

The meaning of this saying flows from the deep wells of Emerson’s philosophy — his belief that the truest life is one lived in sincerity, and the truest friendship is that which allows such sincerity to breathe. For among strangers, we guard our words and polish our manners. Before society, we perform — striving to appear wise, composed, or impressive. Yet before old friends, we are at last allowed to forget performance. Their love has endured our triumphs and our failures alike; they have seen our brilliance and our foolishness. Thus, we need not measure our words or posture our souls. With them, laughter becomes holy, and simplicity becomes sacred. To “afford to be stupid” is to rest in the peace of unconditional acceptance — the quiet knowledge that no error or jest can diminish the bond between hearts that have grown together over time.

The origin of this truth lies in Emerson’s own life, shaped by deep friendships that sustained him through solitude and loss. Living in the 19th century, he stood as a philosopher and poet among the great minds of his age — yet even in his intellectual brilliance, he cherished the quiet companionship of those who understood him without need for explanation. His circle of friends, including Henry David Thoreau, Margaret Fuller, and Bronson Alcott, was bound not merely by intellect, but by affection. They debated the mysteries of the soul by day, and laughed at life’s absurdities by night. Emerson knew that in the rarest friendships, thought and playfulness coexist — that wisdom is deepened, not diminished, by laughter shared between kindred spirits.

In this sense, Emerson’s words also reveal a profound spiritual truth: that the truest love is never prideful. In the eyes of an old friend, we are not our achievements, our reputation, or our intellect — we are simply ourselves. To be “stupid” in this way is not to be foolish, but to be free — to return to the childlike self, the honest heart that existed before the world taught us restraint. When two friends can laugh at their own pretensions, stumble through conversation without fear of ridicule, or speak nonsense without losing respect, they have entered the most sacred realm of all human bonds — the realm of authenticity.

History offers us radiant examples of this truth. Consider the friendship between C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, two giants of literature who met at Oxford. Though their works shaped generations, their friendship was marked by playful debate, hearty laughter, and mutual affection. They gathered with other writers in a small group called The Inklings, where they read aloud their works, teased each other mercilessly, and shared ideas that would one day become The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings. Yet amidst their brilliance, there was no vanity — only the joy of being among those who understood. With each other, they could be scholars and children at once. They embodied Emerson’s truth: that among old friends, the spirit finds rest in joyful imperfection.

But Emerson’s saying also carries a quiet warning to the soul. Such freedom does not come quickly or cheaply. Old friends are rare not because years alone make them, but because time must test and temper trust. True friendship, like a well-worn stone, is smoothed by many tides — laughter and grief, loyalty and forgiveness. Only when two souls have walked together long enough to see each other’s humanity — the faults, the follies, and the virtues alike — can they reach that blessed simplicity where formality fades and affection reigns. Thus, when Emerson calls it a “blessing,” he means not a gift freely given, but one earned through the endurance of love.

The lesson of these words is as timeless as the bond they celebrate: cherish those before whom you can be unguarded. In a world of masks and mirrors, such friendship is the closest thing to truth. Nurture it with gentleness. Laugh often. Forgive easily. And do not fear to be “stupid” in the company of those who know your heart, for in that very foolishness lies the wisdom of peace. Treat such friends as sacred — for they hold the only mirror that reflects both your best and your worst, and still smiles.

So, dear listener, remember the quiet blessing that Ralph Waldo Emerson leaves us: “It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” In the embrace of true friendship, dignity becomes unnecessary, and love becomes effortless. Seek these friendships not among those who flatter your greatness, but among those who laugh at your seriousness, who remind you of your humanity, who let you rest in your own imperfection. For when you find such souls, you have found not only companionship — you have found freedom, and with it, one of life’s greatest treasures.