Raised by humanitarians, I knew the importance of conversation in all its forms. My parents taught me how crucial it is to develop language skills to truly understand others and to understand myself. They believed the best way to foster this understanding was through meaningful conversations. Entering the Faculty of Arts only reinforced my belief in the power of discourse and its profound consequences.
At university, I immersed myself in discussions about politics, art, philosophy, and the big questions of life. My understanding of communication shifted. Suddenly, every interaction—whether with a close friend, a classmate, or a stranger at a party—had to feel valuable in the bigger picture by being either useful, profound, or eye-opening. At least, I tried to seek that everywhere.
But last week, a series of unplanned conversations reminded me of something I had forgotten while buried in the academic process.
It began at a pub during a friend’s graduation. Seated next to four engineers, I found myself far outside my comfort zone. They volleyed math equations and engineering dilemmas back and forth while I sipped my beer, unsure how to join in. I tried to embrace the unfamiliar, figuring I might learn something new by simply listening. Even the later brief conversation of my academic interest – documentary film – was too brief for me to engage in it deeply.
In academia, every discussion feels like it should contribute to a greater intellectual pursuit
A few days later, I went out for drinks with classmates. We spent hours on innocent gossip—who has beef with who, which teachers play favorites—nothing earth-shattering, just another casual banter. The same night, I attended a farewell party for friends leaving town. I had planned to ask them about their thoughts on closing such a big chapter in their lives, but the night was mostly spent dancing and laughing. The most meaningful exchanges ended up being snippets of emotional confessions or silly jokes shouted over the music.
These conversations didn’t challenge my intellect or expand my understanding of the world. But as I reflected on them later, I realized how easy it is to dismiss casual chatter as unproductive, especially when you’re immersed in academia, where every discussion feels like it should contribute to a greater intellectual pursuit. But those relaxed, unplanned moments are just as important. They create space to recalibrate and to reflect on ideas or feelings that might otherwise be overlooked.
The engineers’ conversation reminded me that stepping into unfamiliar territory is a skill in itself. Gossip with classmates validated some of my own feelings about the dynamics within our program. The silly jokes reminded me that they could sometimes capture a warm memory better than a ‘deep conversation’.
Casual conversations aren’t distractions; they’re a different kind of necessity, a way to keep balance amid the demands of life. Maybe the art of conversation isn’t about always making it profound. Sometimes, it’s about letting go of the pressure to extract meaning and simply enjoying the act of connecting with others and yourself.