I thrive on deep, intimate conversation. I love it when I
can have a one on one discussion with someone about our fears, hopes and
histories, especially when we can tie those things in with some sort of
philosophical concepts and ideas. These sorts of talks make me feel less alone
in this world, knowing that every one of us has issues that have been shared by
humans since the early days of recorded history.
Thriving on deep conversation often means I wilt in many
social situations. Perhaps you can imagine it. At parties, everyone’s mingling,
but not lingering; they’re trying to hook up but too nervous to actually
connect. Going out and about and seeing the day’s ration of strangers – the
grocer, the mail clerk, the barista – also leads to disappointing shot glasses
of small talk rather than the deep fountain of wisdom and bonding one was
hoping for. Parenthood is also tough for people like me, first because you
can’t easily discuss Hegalian dialectic or Buddhism with most small children,
and second because the time you have to talk with your spouse and friends often
gets whittled down to brief conversations about what you did that day and
planning for the future.
I don’t have any solutions here. I’m trying to convince
myself that the soup of conversation can still be nourishing even if it is
mostly broth, but I still hunger for more substantial talk.
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