never in a hurry never worried never desperate never stopping short
As Epictetus once summarized his entire philosophy: Persist and resist. Persist in your efforts. Resist giving in to distraction, discouragement, or disorder.
What defines a deep conversation, and how can one recognize or evaluate its depth?
Is the depth of a conversation defined by content or the experience?
I feel like it only can be deep if it if it was deep for both of us. Like can you have a conversation— I guess anything’s possible. [But,] does it seem realistic to have a conversation where one person thought it was deep? Because I’m saying to myself, yeah, obviously it’s possible. But what happens if both people thought it was deep versus [only] one person thought it was deep?
~ Craig Constantine (4:18)
Craig Constantine and Jesse Danger explore the nature of deep conversations, focusing on the distinction between superficial and meaningful exchanges. Jesse begins by considering what makes a conversation real, emphasizing the unique contributions of each participant and the specific moment. Craig reflects on the term “deep” and questions whether it might sometimes be the wrong word, as some people avoid deep conversations due to discomfort. They both ponder if a deep conversation is characterized by newness or if it can occur without discussing novel topics.
I share experiences with people, I think that people are having the same experience as me. And I’ve come to realize that that’s not the case, I think I can have a deep and profound moment that doesn’t strike the other person as poignantly. I do an exercise with myself, and I’ve done it with my wife, where we write down the moments that struck us most deeply. There are different moments. And you remember, like, oh, yeah, I was there, it’s there. It didn’t strike me. But now, I’m starting to understand that that was really an important moment for you.
~ Jesse Danger (7:02)
They discuss the concept of depth as an emergent feature of a conversation, suggesting that depth arises from a shared experience rather than just content. Craig wonders if a conversation can be considered deep if only one participant feels it is, while Jesse shares his experience of recognizing that people often have different perceptions of the same moment.
They also touch on the idea that profound moments can occur upon revisiting familiar topics, and that the willingness to be known is essential for achieving depth in a conversation. The discussion highlights the importance of co-creation, presence, and the conditions that foster profound exchanges.
Takeaways
The nature of deep conversations — discussed as moving past superficiality and involving unique contributions from each participant.
The difference between superficial and real — explored in terms of what is uniquely shared in a meaningful conversation.
Discomfort in deep conversations — mentioned as a reason some people avoid such exchanges, differentiating between depth and inappropriateness.
Depth as an emergent feature — suggested that depth arises from shared experience rather than merely the content of the conversation.
Newness versus familiarity — debated whether a deep conversation always involves new topics or can occur with familiar subjects.
Shared profundity — questioned whether a conversation can be deep if only one participant perceives it as such.
Different perceptions of the same moment — highlighted through personal experiences, recognizing that not everyone experiences depth in the same way.
Revisiting familiar topics — noted that profound moments can still occur upon revisiting familiar conversations or books.
Willingness to be known — identified as essential for achieving depth in a conversation, implying vulnerability and openness.
Co-creation in conversations — emphasized as an important aspect of achieving depth, with both participants contributing meaningfully.
Presence and awareness — discussed as crucial for recognizing and experiencing the depth of a conversation in the moment.
Conditions for profundity — suggested that certain conditions must be present for a deep conversation to occur, such as openness and receptivity.
One of the principles I come back to over and over is adrienne maree brown’s invitation to move at the speed of trust. That is, whenever attempting any effort with other people, prioritize building trust and respect for each other over and above any other goal. The trust forms the foundation from which the work can grow.
I bump against this in podcasting often: How do I get to the “good” part of this conversation as quickly as possible? And I sometimes focus on the “quickly” part, when in reality the best way is to focus on the trust part. The “good” part of the conversation just falls out after that.
If I want to recall peace, serenity, pleasure, I think of myself on those lazy summer afternoons, with my chair tipped back against the wall, the book on my lap, and the pages softly turning. There may have been, at certain times in my life, higher pitches of ecstasy, vast moments of relief and triumph, but for quiet, peaceful happiness, there has never been anything to compare with it.
Please remember I am talking about the world as it is. The men who act without thinking, and the men who both think and act, are the ones who mould the world. The man who thinks and does not act never moulds the world. He may think that he does—but that, too, is only a thought, the thought of a deedless, actionless thinker.
And so we get to the crux of our human predicament — the underbelly of our anxiety about every unanswered email, every unfinished project, and every unbegun dream: Our capacities are limited, our time is finite, and we have no control over how it will unfold or when it will run out. Beyond the lucky fact of being born, life is one great sweep of uncertainty, bookended by the only other lucky certainty we have. It is hardly any wonder that the sweep is dusted with so much worry and we respond with so much obsessive planning, compulsive productivity, and other touching illusions of control.
For years I’ve been finding myself judging my day, each evening as I go to sleep. I lie down, and try as I might, my thoughts go beyond simply reviewing. I tried to stop doing the judging part, to no avail.
There’s a Steve Jobs quote about asking himself a question each morning, and that’s great, (but not something I do.) I realized that I’m asking myself that question at the end of each day after closing my eyes to beckon sleep:
If that was the last day of my life, am I satisfied with what I did?
The cucumber is bitter? Then throw it out. There are brambles in the path? Then go around them. That’s all you need to know. Nothing more. Don’t demand to know, “why such things exist.” Anyone who understands the world will laugh at you, just as a carpenter would if you seemed shocked at finding sawdust in his workshop, or a shoemaker at scraps of leather left over from work.
Do external things distract you? Then make time for yourself to learn something worthwhile; stop letting yourself be pulled in all directions. But make sure you guard against the other kind of confusion. People who labor all their lives but have no purpose to direct every thought and impulse toward are wasting their time—even when hard at work.
One of the most unfortunate tendencies of an adolescent culture is the impulse to fit everything into black and white narratives. Narratives themselves aren’t the issue; in fact, psychologists say that being able to view your life as a story is a key component to mental health and happiness. And as we’ll come to see, being able to imagine yourself as an actor in that story – a kind of hero’s journey – is one of the most important ways of achieving an awesome adulthood. No, it’s not narratives per se that are problematic, but ones that are overly simplistic and one-dimensional.
The entire piece is good, and it goes in a certain direction: It’s attempting to provide guidance and direction to young men as they transition (or try to transition… or try to NOT transition…) from childhood to adulthood.
The take-away for me was a meta-lesson that applies from the adult point of view: I should not judge young men-to-be by my adult standards. Adolescents who are trying to create their story– trying to navigate their journey– are going to do things and act certain ways. That’s not a problem, nor is anything wrong. It’s part of a natural and normal story arc. The question and judgement from me should be, can I help? Can I be of guidance? Can I at least be an example, either through my level of adulting, or through my overt efforts at reaching higher levels of adulting?
I’m glad I took the time to post this stuff. Aside from my obvious use as a soap-box, it’s a constant source of wonderful memories as I dredge up old, and capture new photography, as well as a place for me to ruminate.
There’s no right answer. The present self usually wins, because he controls the action and so his interests are more important. But the future self actually has a stronger case: he’s actually a bunch of future selves (you in 10 minutes from now, an hour from now, a day from now, three days from now, a year later, and so on). So shouldn’t a thousand future selves outweigh the current self’s interest?