After being pressed to explain my point of view about my uneasiness to commit to a project of which he felt strongly towards, of which he assumed I would feel strongly towards as well, I circled and circled, unable to clearly express my resistance to join, to become a member.

I didn’t mind the questioning whatsoever. Sure, it was a little uncomfortable, but friends should make each other uncomfortable from time to time. It’s something that I needed, for it gave me an opportunity to reflect, to explore why I feel the way I do. The introspection began with a friendly conversation, with someone who I trust dearly.

Introspection means talking to yourself, and one of the best ways of talking to yourself is by talking to another person. One other person you can trust, one other person to whom you can unfold your soul. One other person you feel safe enough with to allow you to acknowledge things—to acknowledge things to yourself—that you otherwise can’t. Doubts you aren’t supposed to have, questions you aren’t supposed to ask. Feelings or opinions that would get you laughed at by the group or reprimanded by the authorities. — William Deresiewicz, Solitude and Leadership

And the introspection continued in solitude…

A person’s success in life can usually be measured by the number of uncomfortable conversations he or she is willing to have. — Timothy Ferriss

Just a few days ago, I picked up the phone, took a deep breath, dialed 7 digits, and waited for a likely uncomfortable conversation to begin. A voicemail is all I was able to leave, but I apologized for my untimely failure to communicate effectively, to be transparent a few weeks back, which I perceive to have caused a riff in our friendship. Calling and leaving a message in this case was something I needed to do—regardless of the outcome—to move forward, to let it go.

Uncomfortable conversations can be uncomfortable for many reasons, but they become more so as time passes, as anticipation builds, and the mind begins to imagine and create possible outcomes, many of which are over the top. More often than not, the time spent pondering how a conversation will go is more uncomfortable than the conversation itself.

Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell your parents? Have you avoided talking with your employer about working on that project? No matter the subject of conversation or the person you’ll be having it with, uncomfortable conversations are so because deep down you know that you’ll be better off having them regardless of the implications.

Rather than postpone and push them back days, weeks, or even months, pursue them. The more often you initiate potentially uncomfortable conversations, the less uncomfortable they become, and the more opportunities for success you’ll create.

As the bus left its stop, a woman turned to her neighbor to initiate what appeared to be a conversation. Not interested, he stood up, walked away, and sat down elsewhere. She didn’t seem surprised or bothered by his departure. Silence returned.

First came the phone… I can hear you, but I can’t see your facial expressions.

Then email… I can send and receive messages, but no longer can I see or hear you.

And now text messages, status updates, and tweets… I can’t see, hear, nor is there time or space to explain.

Although it’s easier than ever to instantly communicate with people around the world, the same digital media communications that make this possible also pull us further from each other, from the genuine act of conversation, and contribute to our isolation.

In cubicles leaning over a computer screen, in home offices with shades closed, in coffee shops with laptops and headphones plugged in, and in busses with smart phones vibrating, many of us are spending less and less time in the presence of those that matter most to us, immersing ourselves in conversation, those that are not digitally mediated.

Mediated conversations are still conversations, but nothing can simulate being in the presence of others, being face-to-face.

And so, in the pocket my phone will remain next time there’s an opportunity for conversation.

Around the corner we turned…

I don’t know why a lake perched in such a spectacular basin wasn’t given a name worthy of its beauty. I want to believe that those who named it gave up, decided to call it Lake Twentytwo because they couldn’t settle on any of the twenty-two names they scribbled down on paper; no combination of words could adequately describe what they saw.

I took a dozen photos and my wife even more, but not even the one you see here captures what I saw, the way I saw it.

Photographs capture specific moments in time and words help us describe, and together they help us imagine what was, is, or is going to be, but they cannot replace the act of being, the act of doing, the moment before, during, and after.

I, nor anyone else, can ultimately make you feel or see something in a specific way. While people may try to steer you in this direction or that, the most I can do, the only thing I want to do is create opportunities for being. I write about conversation. I capture and even collect conversations, but nothing compares to the act of conversation. Nothing compares to actually going around the corner and seeing Lake Twentytwo.

I can usually write at home with ease, but there are too many distractions right now; dishes to be washed, grass to be mowed, laundry to be folded. My wife has the vacuum inhaling dirt and Izzy needs to be brushed again. Oh, but I should have done that before.

My wife tells me to close the door and get to work, but notes, receipts, forms to be mailed, and folders to be put away are thrown about. And I haven’t checked my email today.

It’s time to put my computer to sleep and recreate my zone, to put my room back in order.

…

All is put away. Coffee beans from Kona are roasting and The Dave Brubeck Quartet is moving them along. Now that my room is at peace, and I can think clearly once again, it’s time to type. And then off to the coffee shop I will go, to my favorite caffeinated zone of creativity where the buzzing of conversation awakens me even more than caffeine.

What religion are you, and how do you know that one is truth?

Should I confront a brother in law who has informed my husband that he should divorce me?

How will the oil spill in the gulf affect the weather and the rain?

Should sex education be a manditory class in high schools throughout the United Sates?

How has your love for others made you a better person?

Real people with genuine questions and concerns.

I even found a few questions asking why people use Yahoo! Answers instead Google search. The responses varied, but generally touched on the idea that Yahoo! Answers creates opportunities for a human response—a digitally mediated one—but human nonetheless. This, Google search does not provide.

And that’s just it. Yahoo! Answers provides a space where people can freely ask and share their opinions. For some people, results are primary, but for others, engaging and being listened to is more important. Even having a question or opinion flagged requires a human response.

Google will remain my search engine of choice, but Yahoo! Answers is where’ll I’ll go online when I’m looking for opinions—not necessarily answers—to eavesdrop when I’m not at the coffee shop.

On Sunday, I caught myself talking to her—it wasn’t the first and won’t be the last time—asking if I should mow the lawn or do laundry first. She spoke back, and I tried to understand, but I can only imagine what she tried to say.

With her head shifting first to the left, then right, I know that Izzy always listens intently. A recent Associated Press-Petside.com poll of pet-owning married women said that their pets are better listeners than their husbands; eighteen percent of pet-owning married men said their pets are better listeners than their wives.

Listening seems like an easy thing to do, but it isn’t. I sometimes catch myself interrupting, completing someone else’s sentence, especially when I sense where it’s going. In my mind, I’m showing that I’m engaged, that I understand what they’re saying, but I know this not to be true. Listening without interrupting ultimately shows genuine interest.

I have a lot to learn from Izzy. When she barks from now on, I’m not going to interrupt her. Maybe, if I show that I’m listening, she’ll take it down a notch.

Anyways, I went to a coffee shop last month without my notebook. I didn’t spend more than five minutes at Caffe Umbria, but I picked up a business card, glanced at it for a few moments, and stuffed it into my pocket. The acquaintance whom I went with asked if I collected business cards and such. Until then, the answer was no, but he knew what I was thinking, and it was rather scary for we had only met a few days before. My aha moment was kind of his too. I then jotted down a few notes on the card and placed it into my pocket.

Looking at the card for the first time since late April, I can visualize the exchange, the moment in which my friend sensed what I had yet to describe. I’ve taken notes half a dozen times since on business cards, napkins, and in my spiral notebook of course.

How do you capture your caffeinated conversations?

Should I tell people what I’m doing, going to do, or did last night? Does anyone care how I brewed my coffee today or of what variety it was? Who I met with for coffee and conversation? Which coffee shop I went to?

Attracted and overwhelmed by the streams of information, I ponder about the many times in which I’ve been distracted during a face to face conversation, where a subtle vibration caused me to pull out my phone to read, reply, and archive. How many times have I brought a conversation to a halt because of my desire to know now?

Twitter, Facebook, gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow. My wife is calling and it’s time to turn off…