The Lost Art of Conversation

Learning to talk in the age of status updates.

It’s an interesting revelation to me that wherever I go- I seem to know more about the people around me than the other way around. For example, I know more about each barista that serves me each and every day. I don’t know if this is an intentional thing. I may ask them how they are and when they reply, I listen. I turn towards a table and begin my work and then without attempting to, really, I retain that knowledge. Those blocks of information eventually stack up like a tower of Jenga to formulate a person. I’ll have a meeting with someone regularly within a couple years for work and realize only later that I once again only listened. I stacked high little bits of information- childhood, family, hobbies, goals, and the list goes on but it never quite seemed to volley back towards the other side of the net. I have to wonder… was it always this way or has something changed? I’ve always been able to strike up conversations. There were certain rules established- the secret kind of rules like in polite Japanese society. Both parties are meant to abide by the rules in order to not come off as rude or self absorbed but lately I do not understand the game. Perhaps in all of our years now with social media, we have lost the back and forth required to build something meaningful. We observe, not through stories, but through pictures. Maybe it’s no longer rude to not ask. We do not ask others to post, they just do, and we respond often times without words but just a tap to affirm a glimpse into their life. Then within a second of tapping, we are onto a new person, perhaps a person we met in some obscure setting several years ago. Maybe we don’t remember because we don’t need to. Who needs to read a map when GPS is built into a phone? Yet I miss conversations. The kind that stack gently on top of one another and build something for both sides. The kind that remembers. The kind that, at least on the surface, symbolizes a sort of care.

Conversation is a dance. There is an art to it. The usual things no longer work, for example, “I like your shirt.” A simple compliment that once invited a partner to step forward for a quick waltz is now, “Thanks” if lucky, or “okay” if not. The shirt may have been of a sports team, a concert, a vacation area, or the list goes on. They presumably wore it from an interesting experience they had or a special interest they were fond of. Throughout my life, whether it be at airports, cafes, events, or whatnot- this would be met with, “Thank you. I’m a huge fan, do you know them?” I think CS Lewis sums it up nicely when he says, ““Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .” And with that, the two parties are whisked away into a waltz that may last just a few moments or lead into a friendly chat of several minutes. The invitation is no longer seen. The selfless act of compliments no longer are regarded as a way to engage in common interest. The other party does not know what to do with such a thing so they absorb it. The building block is placed upon their side of the table and rests. The tennis ball flies over the net and hits them in the knee while they stare at their screen unaware. The game is not fun.

Of course, someone may read this and say, “They do not owe you a conversation,” and that is absolutely true. That is beauty of a conversation as well. We are not owed a sunset, a rain after a long drought, or anything of great non monetary value. CS Lewis says this in Four Loves, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” Isn’t that an interesting word… value. People love to be valued but a real attempt at valuing others, at bare minimum, is to show some sense of curiosity for those around them. I have heard many times that people say, “This place is extremely friendly or this place really values community.” I have yet witnessed an authentic conversation from those places. In fact, you could easily walk in that very place, with those very people the next day- and they may have completely forgotten you were there. “Hello! It’s so great that you’re here. How are you? Welcome!” On one side of the table, there’s a stack of blocks assembled. This particular person works at Disney, has four children- three boys and one girl, he moved from Rhode Island two years ago because of his job. He loves this one restaurant downtown because it reminds him of cookouts he once had at his childhood cabin and hopes to one day move back so that his kids have a place to visit. He pats you on the shoulder, “If it’s your first time, just head over to that desk and they’ll take care of you!” And it has nothing to do with being an absolutely boring person. You could be an archeologist who came back from a near death experience in Morocco with four bullet holes in your upper body and still be forgotten. Perhaps it wasn’t a very relatable story.

If the idea of community is people in one place, I can see why the online “communities” have exploded. The majority of the world can be in one place at one time seemingly conversing on the same topic in short spurts of replies to a greater question or topic. Maybe everyone is used to such a platform of speech where we must compete for visibility. The more we speak, the more the algorithm will reward the visibility of our words and that spills over to the real world. We must speak quickly before the topic changes because in ten minutes, that old thread will be irrelevant and we’re off to a new thing. Maybe the polite gesture of nodding and actively listening translates to “likes” and “hearts” which then affirm the user to keep going. The conversation becomes status updates and the other person is just the viewer tapping affirmations. Maybe people are lonely and need to be listened to. They may have people around them but are starved for the attention of someone who doesn’t compete but just… listens. Sometimes it feels like a tower of Jenga blocks can be stacked up only on one side. There’s no interest in the other. There’s no game of volley. There’s no intricate and spontaneous dance. Maybe in the end, the people who are willing to listen are the foundation of community for others to stand upon. What I have found is that nothing is at it seems. If you feel alone in a world that loves itself, perhaps you’re not the one who is lonely. Perhaps you are an answer to the lonely people who surround you.