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Almost exactly four years ago I was sitting in a coffee shop in
Berkeley, waiting for my UC Extension French class to begin. I was a
year out of college, working full-time, and feeling a desperate need
to add meaning to my life somehow. I had notions of going back to
school to get a graduate degree in art history, but that seemed to
depend on luck more than my own intelligence. I was familiar with
the idea of conversational salons thanks to my Utne Reader
subscription, and right then and there I decided I was going to start
one of my own. I drafted an email invitation and started to scribble
down names of individuals who might be interested. Deep in my heart
I wondered if people outside my immediate friend circle would be
responsive to the idea of meeting just to talk.
Well. Every other month since that evening I have sent out an
invitation, blatantly stolen a topic from the cover of the Utne
Reader, and watched my list of interested individuals grow longer
and longer. The group that gathers is never the same twice, though
Aimee, Patrick, Steph, and Logan have been there since the
beginning. People have shared stories, essays, art, and their
children. I'm fairly sure that they're not all coming just to see me,
that something about talk for talk's sake is appealing.
On a personal level, salon has been very important to me. The ritual
of opening my home to others has kept me from completely withdrawing
into myself during difficult times. I've made wonderful new friends.
I don't know that I would have ever thought of doing Astrarium if I
hadn't already been kicking myself in the ass to write the occasional
piece for salon.
However, this goes way beyond me. Human beings have been coming
together to enjoy each other's company, discuss issues, and solve
problems since time began. I think the government of America was
actually set up with the hope that with fair representation and
enough talking and listening we could fix anything. I'm pretty
cynical about our ability to swing that particular beast around, but I
absolutely do believe that large things can start on a very small
level, even in someone's living room.
The important thing that happens when we engage in intentional
conversation is this: we listen to each other. We hear new
perspectives, we hear things that make us angry, we hear stories that
break our hearts. Most of the time we just jabber and laugh, and
that's great too.
Just this last week my church was approached by a local discussion
group with a request to use our facilities because they have outgrown
the living rooms of their members and need more space. We are
wholeheartedly extending a welcome to them, for this is a group of
Israelis and Palestinians who have been meeting together once a month
over the past couple years in the quest for healing and for any sign
of common ground. After the failure of so many rounds of peace talks,
these people still find value in conversation. There's hope in that.
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Heidi J. De Vries
