Yesterday at church I was chatting with a friend about those conversations that are over before they begin. You know, when you have already pounded in your points like sharp white boards in a picket fence, pretending to listen but only as a formality. Both parties show up with arguments, maybe even manage to express them with a soft start up.
They take turns, and nod at appropriate intervals. Maybe even squeak out a smile or a guarded "That's interesting." But it is not interesting enough to lift your heavy train of thought off its rails and head in a new direction. The exchange is all about correcting the other person's thinking which has unfortunately gone askew.
How differently it unfolds when both parties are actually listening. Listening as if they do not have all the answers, actually considering the
possibility that their assessment of life is incomplete and they are not merely biding their time until other people catch up.
One of the qualities I find unceasingly endearing about children is their curiosity. Being wrong is not yet a blot on their resume. In fact they probably skip the "wrong" judgment entirely and simply add new information to their cache of clues in exploring the world.
There is a quote that reminds me that what
I know is rather small.
Real wisdom consists in our seeing in the light of heaven that what we know, understand, and have wisdom about is like a drop compared to the ocean of what we do not know, do not understand, and are not wise about. It is hardly anything at all.
- Emanuel Swedenborg, True Christianity 387
A drop. It kinda makes me want to revisit that curiosity.
