Dunbar's Number

A few days ago, I found out that one of my close college friends unexpectedly passed away over the summer. As you can imagine, I am grieved. The more I think about it, the worse I feel. Losing him is bad enough, but not knowing about it for months makes it even worse. Thankfully, one of our  mutual friends contacted me. I find myself regretting not keeping in better touch with him for the last few years.

It's not a new regret. Since I moved away from my home state, I have been troubled about the friends that have slipped off the edges of my daily life. Distance separates us, and there never seems to be enough -- enough time, energy, or opportunity -- to keep those relationships healthy.  Deep down it feels like a personal failing because I genuinely love my friends. I want to know all about them and their lives. I want them to know how important they are to me.

I also don't think I'm alone in this. The globe has gotten pretty small, and we spend different seasons of our lives in many different places. A while back I read a book called How Many Friends Does One Person Need?: Dunbar's Number and Other Evolutionary Quirks. It detailed some of the scientific research done by Professor Robin Dunbar. The section that got the most media attention was the one about Dunbar's Number. The basic idea is that one person can only really maintain 'real' relationships with about 150 people at one time. In the book Dunbar breaks that total down into a series of tiered levels of 'closeness' ranging from the one person who knows you best to the people who receive your  Christmas cards.

 

 

 

 

Reading about Dunbar's number made me realize what has been bothering me. I went from a life where most people I cared about were geographically close together, and I always found it relatively easy to keep up with my friends' lives. Not only did I move, but I also became a teacher. Each year I build a teacher-student relationship with approximately 100 students. Add in the few students I continue to mentor in some form, take that number, and subtract it from 150. There isn't much left, right?  That small number represents the time and energy I have left for friends and family.

 

So what does all this mean?

 

First, I have realized that I'm only human. I have been learning to recognize that I have limitations, so I prioritize. I try to spend myself and my resources wisely every day.

 

Second, I have to trust other people to come through. Mother Teresa said, "God told us to love one another -- not the whole world." I get what she was trying to say. We can all do something, but none of us can do everything. In short, we're in this together. We need each other. 

Third, and most importantly, I pray. I have made a commitment to pray for everyone I love regularly. I've made lists! I do it because I believe that in contrast to my limitations, God is omnipotent and omnipresent. He can be there when I can't. He can help when I can't. In fact, the prayers I offer up for my loved ones are undoubtedly a much greater help than anything I could do for them.

In the end, I think that Dunbar's Number is really about quality over quantity. When you see some people's Facebook friend totals or lists of people following their every Tweet, 150 doesn't seem like a very large number. But if each of us lives a life in which 150 people are loved and cherished by us, and they know it, that's a life well spent.

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