Six weeks ago, my husband and I began a Sunday morning ritual of cafes and conversation. It’s been lovely.
The centerpiece of this new tradition is our work with a book called the Life Organizer, by Jennifer Louden (aka. the Comfort Queen.) The book is filled with weekly prompts for organizing one’s life–not around detail–but around intention, desire and spirit.
Given my husband’s internal mid-life “axis” (a better fitting word than “crisis”), this process of plumbing our souls for direction has been a sweet connecting point in these welcome, but turbulent waters of change.
On this particular Sunday, he passed on the pastry and enjoyed a cup of tea instead of coffee–in a renewed commitment to caring for his body (and his blood pressure.) I felt guilty with each bite of cinnamon so I saved half the bun for our boys as penance.
Casey and I were deep into journaling our responses to the organizing prompt, “What one basic need do I want to pay attention to this week…” when we overheard a conversation from across the room.
A young man stood beside a young woman–talking about life–in the way that you did too when you were in college.
I don’t remember what he was saying but it immediately took me back to cafes on the Seine, late nights in the dorm and pillow talk with lovers.
Ahhh… Spring!
Casey and I smiled at each other from across our table.
“I don’t think I talked like that when I was that age,” he said, a bit regretfully.
I did–and I still do–which is why Casey threatened a lobotomy so many times when we first met.
“That’s what we’re doing now,” I replied– and we both smiled again–knowing it to be true.
The next morning I stumbled upon a NY Times post, entitled:
It quoted a study published in the Journal of Psychological Science suggesting that: people who spend more of their day having deep discussions seem to be happier than those who engage in small talk.
I felt redeemed in the eyes of all those faces who once told me that I was too deep…
and blessed that all these years later,
I still steep
in the sweet conversation
of life.
(How steeped are you? Who are your favorite “steepers?”)
Two Owls Calling 