The value of a running conversation

 For years, I had a weekly entry called “The Philosophers” on my calendar. It was a lunch date with three other fellows: a tradesman who specialized in hardwood floors, a professor at the medical school, and a philosophy professor who was also a psychotherapist.

Being old guys, there had to be rules: No talking — well, not much — about our aches and pains. As the hardwood floor guy put it, a man should quit talking about his health about the time he gets his first colonoscopy. We also banned the topic of national and state politics. We live in Texas, where the politics are unspeakable. Talking politics would have turned us into angry old men for an hour each week.

And so, we came together to talk about books and ideas. We talked about the biological concepts of E.O. Wilson. The philosophical ideas of Plato and Wittgenstein. Ideas on neuroscience from Christof Koch and Walter Glannon.

Some days, we’d talk about literature or music. The professor of medicine was a perceptive critic of fiction and opera.

That running conversation was one of the best things I ever did for myself.

Today, our culture is “health-conscious.” We are bombarded with information about the value of regular exercise and a low-fat, high-fiber diet, but we hear less about the habits that keep our minds healthy and fit.

That sustained conversation was a good habit. You could, occasionally, skate through a session without bringing anything to the table. But if you coasted for more than a week, the other guys would call you out.

And so, week after week, I found myself bringing ideas that interested me to see what the other guys would say. I remember reading a newspaper article about crows in urban environments and then reading scientific articles and books by John Marzluff, a specialist in corvids. I discovered scientific papers written by Alex Taylor on the use of tools by Caledonian crows. I remember a lively discussion about what we mean by “intention” and “cognition.”

When we started meeting, I was editor of a daily newspaper. I didn’t have time for that kind of thing. Neither did the other guys. They all had full lives too.

But somehow, we kept going. We somehow gave ourselves permission to pursue our own interests, to invest time in reading and thinking about things that had little to do with our professional lives, to hone ideas until we could present them to others and then listen to their response.

If I were going to give advice to a young person, I’d mention daily exercise and a sensible diet. But I’d plead for the idea that an ongoing conversation is even better.