Conversations I Live For

I live for the conversations that leave me in awe, at how much they have packed inside them- like a piece of paper folded many times over. With wide-eyed wonder, I watch as they unfold, over and over and over again. Each time, surprising me by the very fact that there is more to be discovered. Those conversations that hold my hand and march me boldly into places that I never knew I could go and put into words. They nudge truths that were hiding timidly in my spirit and expose them to me, so that I behold their beauty, and, at times, their disfigured countenances. So that I come face-to-face with myself.

Those conversations that back me into a corner and deny me the space to claim to have no opinion, but urge me to search my spirit and find my truth and speak it boldly. Those conversations that are gentle arms that wrap around me as I melt into a jumble of words that somehow makes sense. Those conversations that are strong, burly arms that slide their fingers under my heavy spirit, flex, and lift it up high, high, high into the sky, sky, Sky.  

I live for the conversations that provoke my mind and makes me till its soils. The filth they uncover and kill, and throw right into the soil to make it fertile. The conversations that plant seeds on those soils and leave reflection watering them until they blossom, often into truths, stories and questions- questions I ask myself and nobody in particular. And some times, answers I secretly needed, and tuck into the side-pockets of my heart.

Those conversations that thrive nearly anywhere: in pen, on keyboard, in hushed tones, or loud voices punctuated by ringing laughter. Those that make me want to speak smarter, think deeper, laugh harder, write neater, talk clearer and type faster. Those conversations that heighten my senses, so that I feel myself growing, calming down, learning, healing, every single bit at a time. 

I live for those conversations that are sacred places. Where loves are revealed, and friendships are solidified. Where hurt is relinquished, and sobs are only there for cleansing. Where passion abounds, a hundred-fold, and fuels revelation and clarity. Where some stones are left unturned, not because they are feared or sidelined, but because we know there will be other conversations as hallowed as these. 

Most of all, I live to love and treasure those with whom I have the blessed joy of sharing the havens that these conversations are.