I've always found the phrase "blood
is thicker than water" to be a bit macabre and abstract, but lately I
think I am understanding it more (or, likely as is the case with my tendency to
overanalyze, I understand more about it than there actually is to be
understood). So I have decided to take a closer look at this saying. And for
those of you with distaste for the natural sciences, I apologize for everything
that is to follow.
First, naturally, I wanted to understand the difference between the
thickness of blood and water. Thickness is commonly quantified by viscosity, which
is essentially how much resistance a fluid has to flowing. Now, viscosity can
vary based on the temperature and will also vary depending on the sample of a
variable composition fluid like blood, but for the sake of the metaphor blood
is typically considered to be 3-5 times as viscous, or thick, as water.
So let's start by considering the most
basic comparison that this metaphor offers up: the thickness. The increased
relative thickness of blood means that it has more of a tendency to stick together
than water does. I have to assume that this is the driving force behind the
creation and success of this phrase; when we have a closer bond, we say that we
"stick together" (though "through thick and thin" is
usually appended to the end of this, which doesn't make much sense in a
metaphor about thickness vs. thinness, so we'll ignore that
part). So comparing a highly viscous fluid (blood is a good choice since
families "share the same blood") and a low-viscosity fluid (water is
common, universal, and bland, thus accessible) creates a great metaphor to
point out the innately tighter bond that family has.
A higher viscosity not only means more
thickness but more resistance due to friction. This means that it takes more
effort to pump blood through your veins than it would to pump water through
them. And, in the same way, our familial relationships often involve more
friction and take more effort than our other relationships. But blood has to be
more viscous, otherwise it wouldn't be able to carry oxygen or coagulate. And
familial ties have to have that friction, that intense effort at times, because
otherwise we'd take them for granted. They make us grow, independently and as a
unit. Without that friction, without that effort, we wouldn't be able to support
each other when it mattered.
I mentioned that blood is a fluid of
variable composition, meaning that it is a mixture of different substances but
not always in the same ratio. Well, what do you suppose makes up the vast
majority of blood's composition? Yup, water, at 90%. So water is in fact the
most fundamental part of blood, and a combination of small but important
particles like proteins and platelets are what make blood the unique
life-sustaining liquid that it is. This is slightly ironic, but mostly poetic,
because if we extend the metaphor even further in light of this new information
we will realize that our familial ties are fundamentally similar to our other
relationships with only some small but important differences like upbringing,
traditions, trials, shared memories, genetic predispositions, and mutually
acquired tastes and tendencies to separate them and make them something far
greater.
Let's now notice that water and blood are
the two most vital fluids for human existence. Water is much more utilitarian
and abundant when compared with blood. Water is involved in almost every
process the human body has, essential and non-essential, and so we are reminded
that our tertiary relationships aren't just about comfort but also about
sustaining our life and sanity just like water is. (Let's also realize though,
that water is easily replaceable, just as these relationships often are.)
Blood, while providing some comforts like temperature regulation, is pretty
much all about one thing: keeping you alive by providing fresh oxygen and
healing open wounds. Ultimately, family isn't about making you comfortable,
it's about sustaining your life.
Let's also realize that blood is not
stagnant. We are constantly losing blood, just as we lose when it comes to family.
Sometimes those losses come by the drop, little fights that will mend.
Sometimes we experience a more drastic blood flow and lose a little more,
whether through strain or loss or distance or a moral, social, or religious
disagreement- not enough to put us in danger but enough to cause alarm (and possible
lightheadedness). Then there are those significant losses where you find
yourself looking upon a crimson puddle while clutching a deep wound, and
because of death, divorce, or desertion you now find yourself in need of
emotional life-support.
I would contend that the subsequent blood
transfusions, those temporary replacements for your own blood in order to
survive, are like support groups that temporarily fill the familial void until
you can properly fill it yourself. And how do you ultimately fill it yourself?
Well, what is blood except water and a few key ingredients? A select portion of
your water, or friends, will eventually accumulate the necessary extra
ingredients to become just like your blood, or family, performing all of the
same functions and possessing the same inseparability.
Let's take things one step further. Let's
compare the relative abundance of both fluids in the human body. Most people
know that water accounts for roughly 70-75% of your body's weight. Blood, on
the other hand, accounts for only about 8% (and, keep in mind, 90% of that
blood is actually water). Our familial bonds are so scarce compared to all of
our other bonds, which makes them that much more important.
My freshman year at Vanderbilt I didn't
have any good friends at school until the last month or two when I finally met
someone that really seemed to get me. I was intimidated by the amount of
friends he had, though; whenever we went anywhere we'd have to stop every 10
feet so that he could catch up with someone I had never even seen before. It
wasn't until the last night on campus that he told me that he felt as alone as
I did, that he had a sea of acquaintances but no true friends. Given the amount
and apparent depth of his connections, I couldn't understand this. Then, the
nest semester he left Vanderbilt and I became very active in different
organizations to fill a void. A few weeks into the semester I was greeted by tons
of people all across campus; I would even occasionally come up in conversations
between friends of friends and they'd say, "O, I know Ian; I love
him!" in passing, but I still didn't have any true friends. I never knew
who I’d be spending my weekends with, I never had anyone to confide in. Without
having anybody within 400 miles of me that I planned on staying acquainted with
after graduation, I constantly had that nagging sensation of being alone in a
room full of people.
Water water everywhere (and not a drop of
blood).
But we adapt, we build on old
relationships and find new ones in order to stabilize our blood supply one way
or another. We don’t let petty differences or time apart separate us. Our blood
is more resilient than that.
With all of the enormous changes that I
have had with my family and friends lately, I realize the inherent truths (and
truths that I have just chosen to derive myself) to this age-old saying more
than ever. With 9 time zones now separating me from my only sibling, blood
seems thicker than ever. It has to be. Because I don’t just have regular ole
water to compare my blood to now, I’ve got the Pacific Ocean.