nourishing conversation
This last weekend, I went on a little getaway to Montreal to celebrate Halloween with my friends. Please don't mention the Jays to me, as I will be in a mourning period for the next month or so.
The last day of my trip, I had a coffee with an acquaintance just to trade my zines. I had read her poetry in another zine I had traded for a couple weeks prior, and when I messaged her to compliment her writing, we got to talking and decided to meet while I was in town. We both have known of each other for a very long time by virtue of going to the same middle school and then rival high schools, and so when we first sat down, there was that sense in the air that we both knew more about each other than we let on.
After the first naturally awkward minutes when you're one on one with someone you only kind of know, we quickly fell into the rhythm of really nice conversation. I wrote about smooth talkers way back when, and it's safe to say she exceeded that territory. Over a black eye coffee (4 shots of espresso, I was beyond jittery), and a mocha for her, we stretched our conversation over 3 hours just sitting. I, all the while, was glancing at the time with that all too painful knowledge that the afternoon would simply have to end at some point so I could catch my train back home.
When we got up, she suggested we continue our conversation with a stroll around, which naturally I agreed to. Every single topic we discussed to do with life, not only did we have parallel experiences, but we had ones that were so vastly different from each other so to learn their lessons simply through stories. Over a total of maybe 4-5 hours, we covered large spans of life, large spans of the world, and large spans of media, everything in between. It felt almost as if we were addicted to sharing the little pieces that made us ourselves, no matter what form. My reading list has expanded tenfold.
The image that settled in my mind most was during the last stretch. We found a bench to idle at, the sky was a deep teal, the kind that only stays for 20 minutes or so before complete darkness, and the lit-up cross at the top of the Mont Royal was the only light in the black expanse of the mountain. Our breath clouded up the air, and if my train wouldn't end our night, the cold surely would.
I widened my eyes at the time and got up, and she remarked on the chilled night in her thin leather jacket. How wonderful this afternoon was, how we didn't want it to end, we kept telling each other. She said one thing, paraphrased, that I will carry in my phrase catalogue now:
My friend always talks about having nourishing conversations with people. This was nourishing conversation for me.
That it was. My walk back to my hosting friend's apartment was one of those kinds where you have an idle smile that won't go away, not that you want it to.
My favourite tidbit of our time was the discussion of her desire to start hosting conversation circles in her home with her friends, and we both lamented on how it's becoming increasingly hard to find people who sincerely participate in things. I told her what I would tell anyone: be the change you wish to see in the world! That nothing would change or grow unless you not only put the effort in, but sacrifice your dignity for the sake of reaching out.
I've seen this effect most clearly in the progression of my zine, con moto. My first copy, I printed 15 that I just barely got rid of over a month long stretch. Little by little, as people have received my zines in the mail (thanks a lot Canada post) or by trade, and I've received theirs, a really wonderful community has formed. Rather, I've become a new string in the web of an already thriving community. My last issue of con moto was swept clean of about 30 issues in record time. The numbers don't matter more than the fact that the act of sharing art and passion with everyone (and receiving it back tenfold!) has made life so much sweeter for me.
If you're reading this, my friend, start that conversation circle yourself or it'll never happen!