My Conversational Difficulties

Is it a problem that I never have anything true and simple to say when people ask me how I am doing? Socially, it is usually a problem. "How am I doing", I start thinking to myself. "Where to begin?" Meanwhile my interlocutor looks at her feet and begins to get nervous. She should be nervous. Our depths are dangerously alive. What I yearn for from most every conversation is deep joy: -the kind of joy that revels in fresh ways of seeing that we are failing at living, but that loves life and its ultimate source because of (in spite of?) this knowledge. I wish I knew better how to express this love, to mix my passion for heartbreaking joy with the peace of humility.

I tend to look at people as characters in a novel: that is, soul-types with a part to play in an interesting story. I seek their secrets with a passion that cannot but make them nervous. I want to hear telling biographical details or real opinions about art, people, and ideas in preference to worked out philosophical positions. It is perhaps to balance this limitation that I try to attract, woo actually, people who are serious about ideas. I like to watch them work. Occasionally I will pick up my brush, but it is usually just to give fresh color to a shared intuition, not to trace out its clear validity. During some rare talks, I am given the ability to express an inference or connection that is fresh and helpful. This is the most transporting kind of conversation for me. I hate coming down from such a height.

My most vexing conversational frustration is talking with people who, though smart, do not look at talking, or thinking, if you are feeling fancy, as the most exciting and vitally dangerous activity of life. If they are intellectually above average, and noble, they tend to be very well spoken. I think this is because they have had to learn the rules from the outside in. They see the nobility, or even merely the usefulness, in deep conversation or clear expression, but they don't go crazy over it. There is no distorting intellectual passion driving them deep inside themselves every time they try to talk with a new friend. They can be clear and profound, but does it matter to them? Conversing with them is like trying to learn a very formal, traditional type of dancing on the fly, when all I want to do is enjoy the adventure of finding some new way of moving.

It is when I strongly love such a person, that this kind of dancing ignites a searing flame in my soul. As long as I can stand the pain, I will try to learn the dance. But, inevitably, questions of grace aside, I will try to get us moving to the tune of my deepest heart. Forgive me friends! To know how I am doing is a problem indeed! Thank you for continuing to ask!