The joy of slow conversations

I enjoy the slow speed of conversations with my friend Dan. How slow? Well, something like this:

"How has your week been?"



Silence.



Lots of silence before the answer. During this silence, things can be done. For example: add the basil leaves to the Pho noodles that were just served us; pour the various dipping sauces into their respective little plates; go over a mental list of other items to bring up with Dan ...

All this while, Dan is deep in thought.

(I must admit: sometimes during these silences I would glance across the table to be sure he heard the question ... But he always has).

It just takes him a blue moon to get the answer out. It's as if the Riddle of Life had just been presented to him, and he wants to be sure he gives the answer a good shot.

There he is, mulling it over, eyebrows furrowed, hand rubbing chin in variations of Rodin's Thinker.

Ready, Aim, Aim, Aim. Aim some more. And then, finally, FIRE:

"Are you familiar with the book written by ..."

And then it's off to the races. Not the tortoise and the hare sort of race. No. There is no hare in my conversational races with Dan. At tortoise pace, we intricately go over the points made by so-and-so in whatever book (or some other set of points) ... savoring the ideas; cultivating the implications.

And finally how those points relate to Dan's week emerge into clarity like those old Polaroid snapshots that used to mature right in front of your eyes.

Logos2Go

1 Corinthians 11.33 So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for each other.