There were three of them: a husband, a wife and, probably, a sister. All in their early 40s, they sat at the white plastic table in the cafe’s garden courtyard, the only place for miles open so soon after Christmas.
Arriving late, the trio had been ushered past the pokey rooms inside, filled with greying couples staring at anything other than their partner, to the shade-cloth out back.
And because their table was round and much bigger than required, unlike the earlier arrivals, they didn’t have to try to avoid each other’s eyes. Instead, they could just stare wherever their eyes fell.
They were speaking – I heard a snippet – though it was that special kind of conversation in which nothing is said. Even if I hadn’t heard, it was obvious from their pose. Each leaned an elbow on the table and hovered their hand around their mouth as if to underline their muteness.
Anne Tyler, the novelist and great chronicler of middle-age, once had a character describe a conversation in which “too little was said, and too much communicated.” If she’d seen this trio – vacant, staring, utterly enervated – and their counterparts inside, silent or muttering “pass the salt” – she might have described a conversation in which too little was said and even less communicated.
Yet one can see this kind of “conversation” everywhere one looks: people bored and vacant and mouthing platitudes. I’ve noticed it particularly in the Christmas period and its lead-up. Tables of friends and acquaintances, husbands and wives, extended family, all having this kind of “non-conversation.”
“So what?” you might say, “nothing new there: people run out of things to say, and if you’re wise, you just accept it.” But here’s the thing. This Christmas I also saw something I hadn’t seen before. I saw that in every one of these non-conversations, there was a moment when it could have been different. There was a moment when I saw a hunger for real conversation, a longing to speak about what really matters: about regrets and disappointments, about losses and triumphs, about fears and hopes.
It was a hunger mixed, in almost equal parts, with dread, yet it was hunger nevertheless. And the presence and strength of this hunger, this longing to speak of real things, have been palpable to me recently.
*****
Since doing the Landmark Forum about 15 months ago, I’ve experienced different aspects and capacities of existence at different times. Like many people, in the days following the course, I experienced the amazing sensation of having crowds part before me, so to speak, and heads swivelling wherever I walked. As if I were generating some kind of unseen power.
I think of this phase as the state of being “full of being,” though it’d be more correct to say it’s the state of having depleted stocks of “non-being.” And it’s in this phase that one sees other people vividly for the first time, in particular, their suffering and the style or flavour of the way they suffer. For example, my particular style or flavour of suffering is always about guilt. For others, their style of suffering will be about bitterness or resentment or sorrow and so on.
Many graduates of the Forum say it’s as if other people are wearing a neon sign on their forehead spelling out what ails them so pre-eminent is their ability to “read” others during this period. In my case, this ability has waxed and waned during the last 15 months. Some days, other people occur to me as being extraordinarily transparent; other days, they’re opaque.
This waxing and waning happens, I assume, because of the waxing and waning of my state of being. And it also happens according to what I’m being trained in at the time. At the moment, I’m being trained in leading introductions to the Landmark Forum, and it cannot be a coincidence that suddenly everywhere I look I see people hungry to speak of what really matters to them. If only they were given the chance, if only they — if only we — would put aside for a moment the boredom and longueurs of our many “non-conversations.”
*****
Image: Andy Sotiriou/moodboard/Corbis
I’ve been observing, and at times participating in, the same kind of non-conversations for the past week.
There are more of them at Christmas time. A strange, and bad, time for many people.
Yeh, I’ve been participating in them too and feel a bit sick in spirit. SGx
Yes, when in groups, we, none of us, speak of what’s really going on inside of us. We mouth platitudes, smile vacantly. But if we sneak glances at the eyes of the others in the group, we see the boredom. They (the others) all really want to be somewhere else.
People talking without speaking/People hearing without listening……And no one dared/Disturb the sound of silence.
Doesn’t this describe wonderfully how we “communicate”? But we can “disturb the sound of silence” by “breaking the ice”. The ice once broken, the sound of silence once disturbed, people can now feel the courage to speak of what’s in their hearts.
On the other hand, having broken the ice, or disturbed the sound of silence, you can be made to wish you hadn’t.
It’s a wonderful description of how we “communicate.” It can take some courage to disturb the sound of silence, and I get that sometimes it can seem like a bad idea. Yet I reckon in all cases there’ll be people in the group who are very grateful, even though they might not say it (naturally!)
I had an interesting experience in breaking the ice at my Christmas Day lunch. I proposed a toast to what we’d like for the new year and started it off by proposing “joy,” a word that gives me a frisson every time I say it, and from somewhere round the table I heard someone give a little gasp. We then proceeded around until we got to my uncle who, rather unexpectedly, proposed “living to see 2012.” Though my uncle’s 81, he’s a very youthful and vigorous man, and I think all of us were surprised that that was on his mind. The toast petered out at that point (perhaps it was the candour, perhaps not) and I’m regretting a little that I let it lapse. Yet all of us did get a sudden access to my uncle we hadn’t had before. And now writing this I’m thinking I might phone him and get to know him better still. SGx
A moving story about your uncle. I think he would love it were you to phone him.
wow, i am so glad i clicked on your link!
i am trying to read where you blog about the Landmark Forum to understand what it is and why it is so important to you.
in doing so, i have already discovered sympatico! perfunctory “how are you(s)” are a personal peeve (especially in a doctors office!) i have no designs about becoming a writer. in fact i suffer with aphasia. so pardon if i make little sense at times.
the blog format is teaching me things about how people interact and its a way to force myself to use the synapses.
i rarely give unsolicited advice, but i think you will take this in the spirit it was intended – what a great short story this would make!
have you written many short stories? do you have a pair of eyes you trust to offer editorial. this has the makings of a great short story -
(here is the unsolicited, take with a shaker of salt the edits i offer)
free the characters from a specific holiday but keep the holiday reference since people are more apt to feel the solitude during such times. its at these times we compare our insides to others outsides. give us the words that “said so little” and more examples of the mannerisms that communicated “muteness”, foreshadow what they are so hungry to express, then merge your real life experience… FREE THEM. if only in their minds or perhaps by one bold uncomfortable spontaneous toast which opens the flood gates to unexpected results. this is a universal theme, there is not one of us that has not felt this uncomfortableness – i would like to read a story that makes me feel the discomfort of its topic.
a story like this might inspire someone to make the “if only” possible, it might inspire them to speak or it might speak for them.
BTW, as a jew we feel obligated to express in public the unexpressed. i have never regretted it. i really don’t see how breaking the silence is a bad idea, unless you emotionally hurt someone. the worst that happens is foot in mouth. i have been taught that it is far more likely that others are thinking similar thoughts and lack the courage to speak, therefore “we” (jews) are duty bound to speak for them… the old silence is complicity adage.
hope i made a bit of sense.
Thanks for such a generous comment, Dafna. I think of the Landmark Forum as a three-day exploration of how to live. It’s for people who want to live an extraordinary life. You can find out more from the website: http://www.landmarkeducation.com. Or you can email me too.
I’ve never thought of writing a short story. Your suggestions are brilliant. Aphasia or not, maybe you could write that story. It is a universal theme; this is also one of the reasons why everyone can relate to the Landmark Forum because it’s about precisely this. Universal themes, universal ways of being, that all people can relate to.
Love what you say: “… we feel obligated to express in public the unexpressed.” If only there were more of it! As you say, the worst that can happen is foot in mouth and that can be cleaned up.
It was hearing a Jewish man speak that had me register to do the Landmark Forum. I had gone along to an introduction night with my friend, and this man, Jack, was leading the introduction. He was so expressive and droll and light, I loved him. He shared how he’d come to Australia from Egypt as a small boy with his parents, and how for most of his life he’d been ashamed of his parents — they made him eat “funny” things (compared to the Aust-born kids) , they looked “funny”, they worked in a factory, etc. And then he did the Forum and he got that his parents — I’ll always remember the word he used — were “giants.”
They’d moved to the other side of the world with no English and had worked so hard to provide Jack and his brother a new life and education. And after doing the Forum, he had a completely different relationship with his parents, and when his mother was dying Jack built an annexe on his house for his mother and nursed her till her death.
I acknowledge your courage in challenging yourself to interact on blogs. It really takes something.
i have gone to the link. it seems to be a “testimonial website”.
god herself would have to come down from the heavens and give testimony before i took “testimonials” seriously.
(paraphrase of the site)”your life will improve by taking this course, because mine did” is not enough information.
second best would be a testimonial from someone i know and trust where i could see how it worked for them.
what makes this program better than others? perhaps its a better question for an email. it has made a very great impression on you, so it is worth knowing more.
maybe the website does not want to give too much information because they want to solicit participants.
I get what you say about testimonials. Probably the best way to get a better idea of the Landmark Forum is to attend an introduction. That’s what I did. They’re usually held on a weekday evening, and you can check it out for yourself. Tell me what city you’re in and I’ll look up some dates and venues for you.