A line in great literature can reveal us to ourselves. And while it might not be pleasant, it can be a great gift. Jane Austen has given me a point for self-examination regarding something at the heart of life—how I engage in conversation, and more specifically, whether my conversations center, alas, on myself.
A scene in Northanger Abbey opened my eyes to the subtlety and significance of this issue. How we go about conversations reveals where our heart is. But it will take a discerning eye to notice what is really going on—especially since it is hard to see ourselves clearly.
Of a young man’s speaking with the heroine (to whom by the way he is attracted), we read:
…all the rest of his conversation, or rather talk, began and ended with himself and his own concerns.
On first reading this I thought, as I marked the line with my pencil, Oh my, how ghastly! Poor chap! Here is a striking condemnation of a man. But at some point returning and reading it again, I felt an uneasy feeling coming on. I noticed it doesn’t say the actual topic of his conversation is always himself. Rather, to put it differently, his talk is consistently centered in his own concerns. So I found myself looking anew at my own conversations, and indeed at how I interact with others in general, and I saw something of myself.
Now lest this appear an instance of false-humility or of scrupulosity, let me clarify. I say I saw something of myself. Often a more extreme or pure form can help us detect lesser forms of a reality. This character named Mr. Thorpe is, I am confident, worse than me and most other people I know. But that does not lessen the opportunity for me to find a critical, even life-changing, lesson.
The turn of phrase “conversation, or rather talk…” shows Austen’s key insight. Anyone can talk, but real conversation demands that a person truly look beyond the field of ‘his own concerns.’ Now to be direct, I think this is much more difficult, and consequently more rare than I have realized.
How often are my conversations driven almost exclusively by what is foremost in my cares and by my desire to achieve personal ends or to appear in certain ways? I think this calls for an honest and careful examination.
Again, I am convinced that done rightly this is not scrupulosity but rather opens my eyes to the central demand of human relationships. What does it take really to hear and see another person as demanded by true love? This question applies in all of our important relationships.
This much, I am confident, is the beginning of an answer: it demands that somehow I center my heart on the ‘concerns’ of someone else. And this entails something much more difficult than I realize: that I get outside of and beyond my own concerns.
And so I imagine what a real conversation can and should be like—a conversation rooted in a disciplined, persevering effort to look to the good of another: a conversation wherein another truly feels seen, because (stand in awe!) he or she truly is seen. Perhaps I have already tasted such an astounding and rare fruit. But I am very grateful to have the opportunity to look again and to try again to become capable of doing this, by the grace of God. ~ ~ ~
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As an awkward teen slowly entering the world of school dances and trying to make conversation with girls, my parents gave two pieces of advice that apply to any social situation and still ring true. First, put the other person at ease by asking about him or her. Get them to talk about themselves or what they’re interested in. Then, most importantly, keep eye contact and LISTEN. The rest of the conversation will flow from there.
Such simple steps, but indeed they will always bear much fruit! Thank you.
There are two things one can do to insure good conversation. They are both difficult. One, is to recognize that as you are listening to the other person, you are already developing a response to what they are saying. In fact, so pressing is your readied response, that you actually begin to stop listening and become impatient for them to finish their sentence so you can then jump in. Recognize this, then stop doing it and actually pause when they have seemed to finish and wait if they have anything more to say. The second thing you can do when the other person has finished a sentence is to ask them a question about what they have just said for embellishment or refinement of whatever point they have made. Your question could be rhetorical in nature by actually phrasing a point you might want to make in the form of a question and versus not stating your direct opinion such as “Then (about what the other person has just said) what would you think about or say about (such and such)”. At a certain point, when the above balance has been achieved, there will be ample opportunity to chime in with your opinions or perspectives as well. When one has been in such a conversation with another who does the above, it is breathtaking.
Thank you, Bob. There is much experience and wisdom in your words!
There certainly is. I found myself inwardly cringing as I recognised Bob’s description of the person who loses focus as they concentrate on their answer. Oh dear. Work to do here.
Yes! I saw a church sign recently “ Remember to listen with the ears of the heart”, a timely reminder…
I love that biblical phrase: the ears of the heart. Worthy of much meditation!
Thanks
Very welcome.
One of the greatest books I ever read was based on conversations that a man had with Old Time Baseball players. The book called “Glory of their of Times” was written by Laurence Ritter a man who was both a fan of baseball & history. Laurence was able to turn his very simple conversations with these men into a very interesting book that captured the spirit of baseball in early 20th century including life on the field and off the field. I highly recommend you find a copy of John, I know you will love it.
Thank you, Teddy! That sounds like a real gem: turning good conversations into a book!
How funny that just yesterday I had a startlingly similar moment – I was reading Middlemarch and a line about conversation struck me to the core:
“…he was a creature who entered into every one’s feelings, and could take the pressure of their thought instead of urging his own with iron resistance.”
It made me imagine ‘the other’s thought’ as something to be held gently in your hands while it is being spoken, with time taken to hand it carefully back before you offer your own. Your article made me ponder even more thoughtfully on the subject! Thank you!