Inquisition

If we took a look through a telescope at our relationships, I wonder what we’d see. The fore-shortening effect means we can see distant things as if they were nearby, in the same plane as close (or more recent) stuff.

I like playing this kind of game because it filters out much of the daily junk than inhabits our lives; the drudgery, the boredom, the reflexive behaviours that we barely notice. Many hours of our day is spent doing…well, not much really, and that includes the time we spend with special people.

Which is the way it is meant to be. Maintaining a high pitch of anything is impossible and undesirable, not least because we need variation so that we can have highs and lows. Although it can feel rotten, lows are a precondition for highs, otherwise highs end up being lows too. It’s odd.

Back to my telescopic metaphor. When we remove all the bulk filler of life, the one constant is talk. By talk I mean the communication between all of us, especially in the big relationships of life. The way we talk to each other is overlooked, because we assume it’s just a medium – the method – of being inside the other person’s head. What’s important is the actual state of our minds, our hearts and our emotions; the language is just a delivery service.

However, the modes of communication set the tone. I figure at the most broad, talking falls into two categories: One is responsive, one is interrogative. It doesn’t take a leap of logic to allow that what we want most from someone close to us is a way of chatting that involves listening and responding, as opposed to merely saying the first thing that pops up.

When we’re dating, taking ten minutes to figure out whether the person opposite is taking in what you’re saying (listening, in plain language) or merely broadcasting might save us a lot of time.

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