Have you ever had a conversation before? Most people’s obvious answer is why, yes. Yes I have. But maybe you haven’t?
I say conversations are gestalts. We as humans, as meaning makers, as makers of meaning together, have a sense for when a conversation is complete. We also have a sense for when a conversation is rushed. What if a conversation isn’t a conversation unless it’s complete and evolves at its own pace? If so, I bet you either haven’t had a conversation or you’ve only had a handful. A complete, non-rushed conversation is what I usually mean when I use the word “dialogue.”
Gestalts
In psychology, “Gestalt” refers to a school of thought and a set of principles that focus on the idea that humans perceive and experience the world as organized wholes rather than as a collection of individual elements. These principles highlight the importance of how elements are grouped and organized to create meaningful perceptions and experiences. One of these principles is “Closure”: People tend to perceive incomplete or fragmented objects as whole and complete. For example, if you see a circle with a small gap in it, you still perceive it as a full circle.
What does the notion of “gestalt” have to do with conversations? Like I mention above, we know when we’re on a roll; when we’re getting somewhere and when that getting somewhere is arrested. Interrupted. Cut off. There’s suddenly a gap.
Conversation Fragments
I have a lot of partial conversations. I have meetings in 30-minute increments at work (most of the time). Very often my conversations are interrupted by the clock, by the time alotted. A bit ago I wrote a post titled I’m done with the in one ear and out the other of reading and not digesting what I read. I don’t want to have little fragments of conversation. That’s true in my personal life. It’s true at work. And it is definitely true for conversations about what I’m reading. It’s even more true of the communication that occurs via social media and mainstream media. Not a lick of wholeness. Of a whole communication. Flowing through ideas, and openness, and letting the meaning unfold. Participating in the meaning of the topic, the relationship, the book or work of art.
Getting back on track
How might we have actual conversations? How might we create the spacetime to have and hold these prolonged encounters?
Schedule them. Send invitations. Set intentions. Take my workshop on how to talk about a book when it’s… completed (I haven’t started). Conversations take time. They take space. They take intention and sticktoitiveness.
Time
Conversations take “place” over a period of time. That’s obvious. But when was the last time you had an indefinite period of time? When a conversation could last as long as it needed to? When you honored it, didn’t rush it, didn’t say, “I’m looking at the time and want everyone to see we only have a few minutes left”? When I’d meet up with a friend in my younger days, we’d “get drinks” or “coffee” and if it was “drinks” which usually meant later in the day, we’d have a time chunk that was more defined by the pace at which we drank the drinks. Usually, this allowed for conversations that were not strictly timebound. As I’ve grown older and made fewer dates like this, I’ve had fewer conversations. When you think about endeavoring to have actual conversations at work, doing a timeless thing is unheard of. Time is money. But so are ideas and really thinking through a problem. So maybe we need to rethink how we schedule our day. (I think, in tech, that Clojure guy used to call this hammock-driven development which he meant as a timeless deep thinking sort of thing albeit solo and not necessarily in dialogue with another.)
Space
Too noisy isn’t going to work. Too uncomfortable won’t either. Too cold, too hot, too many people interrupting. A couple times I’ve reviewed bars, restaurants, coffeeshops in NYC that are great for this kind of thing. I’d like to do so more often. Ultimately you need a space you can be in for the duration. My favorite turning-on-its-head in this context is a long walk, say down Broadway in Manhattan, NY (all 13 miles of it). Walking can be great for a meandering, unfurling, unfolding, conversation.
Intention
Obviously you need to be open and to want to have a conversation. To “spend” your time and find your space. You have to want to talk about that thing. You have to be open to and maybe even want to “go there”, assuming you’re talking about personal things, difficult things. You have to be open to listening into and being patient with the silence. With the, is this it? is this going anywhere? doubts. You have to be able to push through the we’re all done, probably, I think. If you’re thinking through a problem, it might be a valley of despair. “There’s nowhere to go from here.” “We can’t think of anything.” “We don’t have enough information.” “We’ll never solve this problem.”
A long time ago I read a book called Think Better in which the author Tim Hurson describes brainstorming sessions that, if divided into thirds always took on a similar pattern. First third, get all the typical ideas out, second third, get them all all the way out and reach a valley of despair, third third, hit the pay dirt. Really get somewhere. Hit on some really interesting, unexepected, innovative, out of the box, newer ideas and thinking.
I haven’t myself and I haven’t seen nor heard of anyone around me recently having a conversation. Experiencing the gestalt of a conversation. Go past the second third into the third third of newness and creativity and aha! It’s what I’d like more of via Extragrad. Sit down. Have the same book fresh in your memory. Conversate unrushed to reach an aha!, an “I think I’ve gotten what the author is saying. I think I get it now!”