Technology has given us mere mortals an extended view of world events, opinions of the masses, and access to information we were previously unable to review without a great deal of time and effort. But one thing it seems to have done is isolate us into silos of existence. We spend a large sum of our daily waking time attached to technology, seeking information, entertainment, and ironically, companionship where there might be none.

The drawback of access to all this is that we seem to have lost the ability to communicate with each other in person. I recently watched an episode of a series (OK, it was Star Trek Picard – I’m a nerd) and there were two people, in what looked like a cafe, having a conversation. Not holding cell phones while sitting beside each other. Just two people, background sounds, drinks (ok, probably a bar) and one another. Talking. Having a real conversation. Not platitudes about the weather. Not even discussions of life and death and impending interplanetary destruction (which you always casually discuss while having drinks in a bar/cafe). A conversation about feelings, and beliefs, and examples from life. Two human beings connecting.

And that seemingly irrelevant discussion in a random sci-fi tv show (albeit MARVELOUS tv show) made me stop and think: when was the last time I had a truly human conversation, in person, with someone?

And I had to pause. And think. And think some more.

Before I could actually come up with an example, I was taken back to my childhood. I would go to the local park, and my babysitter (not my mother) would be sitting on a bench, talking with other adult guardians, while the kids were left to their own devices. Many a heated and heartfelt discussion would be held at those benches. World events, politics, religion, were common topics. Lighter fare like recipes, disciplinary considerations for their charges, family and feelings were also present. In those days, I often stopped playing, and would sneak up behind the grownups, and sit behind the benches, listening. I wanted to be a part of these conversations. I wanted to feel that sense of inclusion. But I always sat apart.

That was, perhaps, my earliest memories of these types of conversations. Others seem to crop up: kids waiting for the bus talking about teachers; sitting around the lounge area of the theater building at college, talking and laughing (and smoking) and sharing. Actors in a green room, after the weeks of work and strategy were set, finally bonding and learning about each other as humans. Those are my connections today.

I didn’t grow up having the daily call to grandma, or the weekly call to some other relative. I bring no regular habits of person to person communication with me from childhood. I have formed no process to regularly check in with my people. In fact, I often go weeks and forget to even call my mother. I’m just not wired that way.

I have been part of these larger conversations, and am fascinated by the insightful and caring questions that others ask to one another, to better understand the person and their conversation. I marvel sometimes and say to myself, “oh, that’s a good question. Why didn’t I think to ask that?” I see how effortless this is for other people. And how foreign it feels to me. When I participate, I fee as though I am in a spotlight and am required to amuse, and story tell, but it doesn’t feel like sharing. I’m talking at, not with, the others.

And yet, lately, I feel this need, this calling to be connected, to understand another person’s narrative, to glean perspectives about my experiences and feelings and opinions by talking with other people, but in a non-technological way. But I simply don’t know how to begin. As extroverted as I am, I am a socially-awkward live-communication hermit: I skulk behind blog posts and social media, and listen, but feel no connection to others. I want to know how to meet someone for coffee and kibbutz; I want a sister or friend that I just talk to in person regularly to learn more about them, understand them better, and maybe, in the process, understand myself and my place in the universe a bit more.

I want to stop living my life at arm’s length from everything: armed with technology to act as a physical and emotional barrier from truly making connections and understanding the people that make up the world around me. But how to begin?

Conversation is a catalyst for innovation.

John Seely Brown