Sometimes the intimacy is in the conversation. The electricity passing through the sharing of words and stories & experiences and worlds. Sometimes∼
The subtext is, I’m thinking of you, I want to connect with you. I want to continue to get to know you. I want to see how this goes—
I found this in one of my journals from September last year. Six months ago, and I realised that I’ve been continuing to reflect on these thoughts as this cycle culminates. So often we place so much value and focus and gravitas and weight on physical intimacy. When there is just as much depth and weightiness to conversation. Sometimes talking is the most intimate thing in the world.
Allowing your full self to be seen, or even just elements of yourself, the revealing and unconcealment of your person, and listening to someone telling you how they have become to be— it is one of the simplest and yet most radical acts in this world. I love listening to people’s stories, there is so much wisdom to be gleaned, so much perspective to be learned, an infinitely fascinating plethora of nuances and intricacies. That’s why making assumptions is so boring. I always try and enter new conversations and meet people for the first time without presumption. Perhaps it is because in my very being, in my mixed race body and existence, I have always innately embodied multitudes of external binaries and contradictions from conception, yet have never felt anything but deep peace and joy about it. How would I not extend the courtesy to others that has so often been denied to me? Presumption is an ugly thing.
So, let us not discount the beauty and the weight of conversation, whether it leads to other forms of intimacy or not. It is often the beginning, the prelude, the foundation of everything that may come to pass later. But it is not something to rush over or dismiss, so allow it to roll over on your tongue like you are tasting every note of a really good wine. There is no speeding in conversation, the allowing of truth to unravel between two people, the one-on-oneness of it, giving it the space to develop its own momentum and velocity, this is maybe one of today’s most deeply undervalued and rare occurrences. I love the body, the weight, the three dimensions that conversation holds.
Conversations can sink deep, they can penetrate our bloodstream. Sometimes someone’s words are all we have to remember them by, the things they said, the imprint they left with the words that filled your hours together and settled in your soul. Sometimes someone’s words will stick with us long after they are physically gone from our lives. Sometimes you met someone once and what they said propelled you forward in a way they would never even realise. Allow it its weight, allow it its meaning, allow it its power. There are of course, the unspoken things in conversation, the pauses, the eye contact (if it takes place in person), the physicality of someone’s laughter, the way it reverberates round a room, the unspoken tension, the way it creeps up your spine. The way we feel in someone’s presence, as the focus of someone’s attention, is no small thing.
Enjoy your conversations, don’t take them for granted, allow yourself to mourn them if your partner in conversation is gone. I get it. Sometimes talking is the most intimate thing of all.