Have I run out of things to say about conversation? Probably not, as it is complex. We often don’t consider how difficult it is, even though it binds humanity together. We may be afraid of and try to avoid it, but we also find it essential to establish what we know about each other, the personal story, and the conditioning and values.
I often think about how humans pass on information. It is functional to know and share how the world works and to keep humanity in a similar stream of thought. The social order relies on knowledge being common. Language is the common denominator for passing on information and a template for structuring reality. Would the self be constructed without the words - I, me and you? Pointing to personal identity and the separation from others begins here. Not totally. There is also a feeling of separation of the body from the environment around it. But language is the enforcer. We are in a cultural moment when pronouns are seen to play a role in identity. How far will we go to change how language works and our socially established reality?
Interesting to think about the way the senses play in conversation. I can write you a letter, you can read it, but you don’t have to hear my voice. But if I am talking to you and you can’t hear me, then we have a problem with communication. If I can see you when we discuss, then I see the emotions on your face, the way your hands add to the expression. I can compensate for this when talking on the phone, but I risk missing some subtle details of your emotions that show in your eyes or around your mouth. I may know you are uncomfortable with what you say when you can’t make eye contact with me. I see the tears welling up in your eyes, even though your voice and the words you use don’t inform me of how difficult the subject is for you.
And if someone leans forward and whispers a secret, the gesture says so much more. A hand covering the mouth or eyes conveys something words can’t and don’t have to. While speaking, a touch from one person to another also transfers feelings that words alone won’t.
It’s a beautiful dance. It’s a frightening exchange. I may be unaware of how the words affect me until the body signals, and I notice that what was just said prompted my heart to beat strongly. Sometimes, in a conversation, I may want to get up and leave. The words are too overwhelming, too many said, too overpowering to take in more. Or I feel that the words are used against me. They are meant as weapons, not as conversation. They do not reflect who I think I am, and there are times when there is no space for correction, as the other can’t receive it. An argument may follow as the positions are locked in.
But when it works well, a conversation can clarify. We can reinforce each other’s seeing. We can add additional information that will help with understanding. We can be guides or mutual explorers of territory not often discussed. We can continue with conversations that started days ago, as the issue is still in our minds. We can appreciate that someone else is interested in our experience. We may love to hear what others have thought about. We may be grateful that someone else is willing to state the difficulties of being alive.
When my daughter was a young girl, she had a sweet friend who often said, “ Another thing in common!” to reinforce their friendship. Isn’t that what we seek - a recognition of common ground? Even from opposing points of view, we acknowledge that we can see a similar situation from different angles, but the root of the experience is there for both of us. The values constructed from social conditioning may differ, but we hold the world physically and psychologically in common.
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