The fading art of conversation
"Sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind." - John Dryden
(Originally published Jun 19, 2021, in The Aging of Aquarius.)
This morning I had a nice hourlong conversation with my longtime friend and blogging partner, Anita Garner. I use the word "conversation" in its most literal definition: we actually talked, face to face, across hundreds of miles via Zoom.
Anita and I swap emails frequently, and we both reply immediately with the grace of sincere friendship and our not-insignificant abilities in stringing words together.
But actually talking today was really a treat.
We laughed out loud without ever having to inject a smiley face or type "lol". We excused ourselves when we accidentally spoke at the same time because that's how humans stumble through vocal communication.
"Wait, what?"
"I'm sorry. What were you saying?"
That's the pure form of a conversation between friends. Remember?
We listened and replied with only half-formed ideas. My friend heard my hesitation, and I, hers. We helped each other by better defining the original thought.
"What I mean is..." one of us would begin to explain. Then the other would arrive at the same mental place and agree, "Yes, that's right!" or words to that effect.
The subject was thereby sealed with big grins. Our minds did a fist bump.
Seems like the most natural thing in the world, doesn't it, conversation? Until you think about the last time you had an unguarded, unhurried chat with someone you trust to really listen, respond with care, and offer to help whittle down the fine points of a topic. Then, together, you can peel it like an artichoke and get to the heart of the matter. You might learn more about your own original thoughts. You might even change your mind about something.
Epiphany is the ultimate satisfaction of conversation.
Talking with Anita about her wonderful book, The Glory Road, our lives and families, and the big, gray mammal in the room—getting old—was fun and enlightening. In the course of a fast hour, we each learned a little and found affirmation in understanding. We laughed when we agreed on something we had thought unique to our own experience. We remembered questions we wanted to ask each other thirty or forty years ago, and finally, we asked and got answers.
We touched upon the past but didn't linger there. We are each still full of our nows and tomorrows.
A couple of hours later now, this has occurred to me:
You think you know a person, but unless you actually talk from time to time, you only know who you both were long ago.
"...you only know who you both were long ago" touched me, as it Is a powerful assessment of most of my relationships.
About fifty years ago, I married a man but the marriage didn't last. We went our separate ways yet I thought of him often. Although it was a respectful divorce, there was a great deal of pain and we didn't communicate for about 40 years. I got to wondering about him and how he was doing. I was able to find a possible address for him via Google and tentatively sent a snail mail card. To my delight he responded in kind and we began to check back in via email. We learned a lot about each other through those early emails and were actually able to walk in each other's shoes again, the shoes that we wore back when were were 19 and 23 years old. From our wiser vantage point , we were able to see and forgive our younger selves. Over the past five years, we have continues to text on a regular basis. We live only 2.5 hour drive apart yet we have not arranged an in person visit. I would like to meet him in person again partly b/c I would like to see if my 19 year old self emerges. For reasons that matter to him, he is not ready to meet up in person. It's okay with me, of course, I let him be who he is and do what he needs to do. I just think it would be fascinating to have a real in person conversation.
I have no interest in rekindling a romance. I am happily married again. I just want to see into his eyes, his face, while we experience the other's presence.
Thank you for the thoughtful post.