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Sometimes, well, actually, often, I just wish people would shut up.
Why does there need to be a comment immediately following every statement uttered? Furthermore, will that comment or opinion change with the wind, given that there was no time to consider it before opening the oral floodgates?
Do people constantly talk because reflection is just too hard, abstract, or a time suck? Is it a sense of unease or a feeling of loneliness when we encounter silence, and why is that?
Are people frightened of the concept of deliberation, of taking deep breaths, or absorbing the natural sights and sounds of a potentially rich conversation? It is ridiculous that slowing down, observing, and contemplation are viewed as lazy or unproductive behaviors. The proverb influenced by biblical scripture, “idle hands are the devil’s tools,” comes to mind. A saying I remember from my infrequent Sunday church services and catechism on Wednesdays as a kid.
It’s weird what phrases stick with you even if you don’t believe in them. Well, I guess it’s not necessarily weird because the repetitive nature of those words throughout one’s life is the goal of those who wish to manipulate or brainwash minds.
As a daydreamer, I suppose I could have been considered lazy and unproductive, as I would frequently stare out the school windows during a lecture or lie in the grass gazing longingly at the clouds, wishing I could fly among them. Idle no, imagining, yes. An action within the mind and the heart should not be considered lazy or unproductive just because it is not visible or tactile. These are legitimate processes of absorbing the content and environment around us.
Why is deeper thinking, using our minds in concert with our bodies, not considered more valuable in everyday life? Why can we not comfortably stop and smell the roses, so to speak? Why must we feel the need to rush to the next task as if it were a mechanical step on an assembly line?
There are so many unsatisfying answers to these questions that society has molded us into thinking are normal.
Either we need to control every part of our day so our goals are attained in a timely manner, or someone else is controlling the narrative and does not want blowback, varied perspectives, or any chance of the natural chaos that may ensue. Hate to tell you, chaos is in every corner of every part of our lives. Some we notice, others go on without acknowledgment, and we are none the wiser.
So, in honor and respect to natural chaos, let’s slow our roll, stop talking loudly, aggressively, and beligerantly, and absorb the mess for what it is and enjoy the uncertainty and the uniqueness of each day.
Moving our mouths is a physical activity that has consequences if we don’t consider what we are saying and who we are saying it to. Listening and thinking before we speak are quiet acts that, hopefully, set the stage for a more productive exchange.
I was sitting in a cafe recently, and there were two tables with two men each. At one table, a gentleman with long white hair was conversing with another older man, who brought in a cushion to sit on because the chairs were not very comfortable. This man was wearing shorts, which means he’s a native to this area and thinks 45 degrees is warm enough to expose his legs. Or it could be that he gets warm due to a condition that affects his body temperature, like menopausal hot flashes.
The guy with the long gray hair was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a green jean vest. A man of the 1960s, maybe a vet. He was telling his friend about some small sculptures he’s been creating. Talking about the big money he gets from selling them and acting all important about his success. His tone of voice gave me that impression anyway. Well, good for him. It’s not easy to make money selling art.
The two men were loud and cutting each other off, maybe trying to one up each other. Masculine insecurities, maybe, maybe not. In any case, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation for me as a bystander at the next table. There was too much noise and not enough substance, and I’m not sure it was a pleasant or fruitful conversation for them either, but I could be wrong. They may just like to hear the sound of their own voices, you know, like toddlers.
This is where I wish more people would read the room and adjust their volume accordingly in public places.
The other two men are sitting against the wall and talking more softly. One man, maybe a pastor or affiliated with a church, was talking about places of worship and mission work in Africa. The man with him, probably from southern Africa, which I deduced based on his appearance, the sound of his voice, and his dialect. Maybe an immigrant or refugee who either assists with the missions in Africa and/or was brought to America. Their tone was indoor level, without the need to broadcast over the loudspeaker; not secretive, just serious and focused.
I appreciated their attention and situational awareness.
There was a group of young people in the back. A woman seemed to be in charge of the conversation; something was being planned. She was talking with assertion and animation, getting her point across; not shouting, but her voice was strong for emphasis. Every once in a while, I would hear a young man raising his voice to be heard. In some cases, this is necessary when one person is dominating, and interjection seems difficult. I would simply say, remember those kindergarten rules: raise your hand if you have something to say.
When sitting in cafes, especially, there are so many types of conversations happening all around; a prevalent aliveness, which is why I love hanging out in these environments. When I am alone working, I find my curious self listening in as I contemplate the next sentence of my writing or the next sentence of the book I am reading. The conversations that usually catch my ear are the subdued, whispery ones. I suppose that’s because whispering often suggests that the conversation is secretive. But for me, speaking in a low, reflective tone signals importance or a more valued and deeper conversation.
Not everything needs a comment, at least not immediately. Why is it so difficult to listen to someone with intent, first? And I mean, really listen without constructing your answer or response while that person is still talking.
I want to butt in more often than I'd like to admit, and I'm not sure why, except that I am excited by the conversation and want to contribute so badly that etiquette goes out the window. My answer should be less important at that moment. Once an opening in the conversation occurs, it’s my cue to move forward with what I want to say. There is rarely ever anything worth saying so quickly that it doesn’t give the other person time to convey their entire thought first.
Reflective pauses are a beautiful thing for both the speaker and the listener.
I know people who talk and are constructing their sentences and talking points in real time. Their words come slowly, deliberately, and thoughtfully. I do this myself because I’m not a robot with canned or rehearsed answers. When I am discussing something, I find myself looking to the sides of the person I am talking with or toward the ceiling to grab those thoughts as if they reside there, waiting to be spoken.
I have noticed that this makes some people feel uncomfortable, as if I am talking to someone else rather than to them. It’s funny to see people look in the direction while I talk, to see what is distracting me.
I don’t agree with the rule of direct eye contact. Sometimes a person’s face or reaction distracts and disrupts the speaker’s thought process. Some may call this behavior rude, disorganized, or even flighty.
I say, there is more than one way to communicate. So, carry on and enjoy meaningful conversations rooted in reflection, whispered tones, and occasional discomfort.
Michelle Lindblom
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