“So,” people say. “You’ve been to a Conversation Café. What’s it like?” I never know what to tell them, exactly. I can describe a Conversation Café as an opportunity for people to exchange viewpoints on topics ranging from fairness to crime. I can explain how a supportive moderator guides groups of no more than eight through two rounds in which everyone speaks, then opens the subject to general discussion. That’s what happens, but that’s not what it’s like. I could ask people if they remember the game of Gossip, a party activity best played with large groups of third graders. Someone at the head of the chain whispers a phrase into the next person’s ear. That person whispers to the next ear what she thought she heard. By the time the phrase gets past several listeners, it’s become something else. “Ruby wants kiss” might morph into “ Rutabaga bliss.” The Conversation Café is a little like Gossip in that we let a subject loose and by the time it gets around the table, it changes in unexpected ways. But in Gossip, the fun is in the secrecy and misunderstandings that are generated. In a Conversation Café session, the fun is in illuminating the subject by openly watching the changes each person brings to the process. Or I could tell folks it’s kind of like a blind date, even though I’ve never been on one. But both activities are about trying to find common ground with someone you don’t know. When you’re sitting at a Conversation Café with a table full of strangers, you’re going to start with first impressions. There’s a guy with kind eyes, a woman with a tiny dog in a sling, a few people who are smiling too hard, at least one man looking suspicious, and they’re all looking at you, trying to guess your story. Everyone’s already started placing their bets as to who’s going to pontificate, who’s going to elucidate, who’s going to go for the cheap joke. Some people just look like good conversation material, you know? Just as I imagine some dates look promising from the get-go. But after a couple of rounds in which the shy people have been forced to speak up a little and the domineering ones have been forced to yield the floor, first impressions fall away and a new dynamic emerges. At some point in the discussion, each person becomes the most brilliant or entertaining being in the room. Some really jaw-dropping or poignant insight will slip out of each of those mouths and you’ll be enlivened or moved enough to wish you had hours or lifetimes to get to know them better. This same magic can happen during a blind date, I’ve been told, but usually doesn’t. It never fails at a Conversation Café. I suppose you could meet you next best friend or the love of your life at a Conversation Café, but you might be better off if that never happened. Because if you’re lucky, you’ll end up talking to someone whose philosophies are incompatible with your own—someone who does or doesn’t believe in God or ghosts or gun control. If you’re lucky, you’ll actually listen to them and they’ll return the favor, a gift few of us ever receive on a regular basis. But I don’t usually tell people any of that. The idea of playing a dumb game or going on a blind date might be enough to get them running in the opposite direction. The Conversation Café is probably different for everyone, so I end up saying, “They’re every second Thursday at the Moose lodge. Come see for yourself.” What’s the Conversation Café like for you? Share your highlights and low moments, your conversational tricks and traps. Let the conversation continue!
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