Introduction
Friendship has always carried a weight of meaning far beyond casual companionship. From the wisdom of King Solomon, who wrote that a true friend is closer than a brother in times of need, to José Martí’s legendary maxim about planting, birthing, and writing, life reminds us that legacy is built both in relationships and in solitude.
This reflection is about what it means to walk that line: to value friendship without attachment, to embrace solitude without loneliness, and to leave behind roots, children, and words that endure.
Friendship According to Solomon
The Bible teaches that friendship is not about numbers, popularity, or constant presence. Solomon reminded us that a friend in times of need is family — loyalty, sacrifice, and presence define true companionship.
But life often reveals the paradox: many find deep friendships that shape them, while others — like me — learn to push people away, not out of hate, but out of an early decision to accept solitude as a natural part of existence.
Friendship, then, is not only about the bond between people. It is about the bond between our inner self and the meaning we assign to life itself.
The Choice of Solitude
I was never an extrovert. I was never an introvert. Labels could never define me. What I learned early on was acceptance — to take life as it is, without attaching myself to every person or every moment.
This acceptance, which my philochology frames as resilient detachment, has shielded me from unnecessary suffering. It allowed me to enjoy being alone, not as loneliness, but as freedom.
And yet, freedom did not isolate me. It taught me gratitude. It gave me clarity to see that resilience is not about avoiding people, but about living without dependence on others for meaning.
Redefining Success
People often chase success in the form of wealth, power, or recognition. For me, success has always been measured differently:
- I am the father of three — that is success.
- I have seen how companies run, from the lowest positions to management — that is success.
- I have worked with humility, carrying titles and carrying burdens alike — that is success.
The Resilient Philosopher’s view is clear: success is not measured by what others see, but by what we endure and what we learn through every moment.
In The Resilient Mind Vol. 2: Mastering the Self, I wrote:
“The mind breaks long before the body does. Some call it burnout, but I call it the absence of meaning. A company that only demands output will drain its people until nothing remains. But when leaders choose to see people as more than roles, the nervous system finds balance, and the spirit finds purpose.”
That is the same way I view success in life — not in output, but in meaning.
The Three Imperatives of Legacy
Some attribute to José Martí the maxim: “Every person should do three things before dying — plant a tree, have a child, and write a book.” Historians debate whether Martí ever wrote those words. No definitive text confirms them. Yet even if legend, the maxim carries a universal weight of wisdom.
I have done all three. I have children. I have planted roots, literal and symbolic. I have written books, and I continue to write the book of my life each day. But I see these imperatives not as tasks on a checklist, but as symbols of what makes us whole.
- To plant a tree is to root oneself in the soil of existence. Trees remind us that growth takes time, that storms will come, and that endurance matters more than speed. In philochology, the act of planting represents resilience — we plant today what may only bear fruit for the next generation.
- To have a child is to give life beyond ourselves. Not just through blood, but through the mentoring of others, the nurturing of minds, and the passing of wisdom. Every leader, every philosopher, every parent of ideas births something that carries forward.
- To write a book is to give permanence to the unseen. We may publish pages or simply write the book of our lives through choices, resilience, and meaning. The written word — whether on paper or in action — is the echo of our spirit into time.
And so I say: these three are not goals, they are legacies. They do not belong only to Martí, or to tradition, but to every human who chooses to live fully.
Because each of us can father a future, each of us can sow a seed, and each of us can author a story.
Only we can know our truth. Only we can write our book without needing anyone else’s opinion.
The Resilient Path
Solitude has been my greatest teacher. Even in my darkest moments, when the weight of life felt unbearable, I found ways to make sense of it. To endure. To learn. To rise again.
This is the essence of philochology: blending psychology with philosophy to create a framework of resilience. It is not about denying emotions or attachments, but about giving them meaning within the reality of life.
Resilience is not the absence of pain. It is the art of transforming pain into wisdom. It is the decision to endure until clarity returns.
Conclusion
Friendship and solitude are not opposites. They are both teachers. A true friend reminds us of family, and solitude reminds us of self. Both are necessary. Both can build resilience.
And when added to the three imperatives of legacy — planting, birthing, and writing — we see that life is not about one path but about weaving them all together.
In the end, success is not measured by who stands beside us, but by whether we stand with ourselves in gratitude, endurance, and acceptance.
This is the silent strength — to be alone, yet never lonely. To be resilient, yet never hardened. To be human, yet deeply philosophical.
References
- D. León Dantes, The Resilient Philosopher: The Prism of Reality (2025).
- D. León Dantes, Mastering the Self: The Resilient Mind Vol. 2 (2025).
- Proverbs 18:24, KJV: “A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.”
- Attributed to José Martí, though primary source unverified.
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