Tonight I had a lengthy and intense conversation with a friend. As conversations go, it was a seamless transition from one topic to another, although I’d be hard pressed now to explain how that happened.
I’m once again struck by how rare it is to have “real” conversation. Not conversation about the jetsam and flotsam of life, but real things. Things that matter. Things that affect you. Things that you care about, sometimes even when you don’t want to care about them. Things that make you who you are, including things you’re not proud of.
It requires both people to be open, to take risks, to accept that what they say will be treated with gentleness. It requires vulnerability, something most of us are loathe to extend to our fellow humans. It requires believing we can count on kindness for parts of ourselves even we have difficulty with.
I left the conversation with no regrets. I hope the same for him.