Case 2 for What Kills Our Conversations—and How to Bring Them to Life?
- cwang2384
- Jan 17
- 6 min read
The most unexpected yet fascinating conversations often occur on flights (used to be on trains, though), where people sit next to one another — with no pre-existing ideas, expectations, assumptions, or pretensions — for hours. The "Stranger-on-a-train" effect is real. Researchers have proved that strangers are more likely to confide intimate stories to a casual acquaintance than to their close friends or family.
Yet HOW these intriguing, arbitrary real-life conversations usually unfold, from the very first word to the last (some connections continue for years and become life-changing, as will be shared later in this blog), can’t be found in any research, let alone the significant meanings of the stranger-on-a-train effect we truly adore in life. I intend to open this can of worms by selectively sharing my “accidental” conversations over the years, hoping to invite others to reflect on theirs and share them with more people, to bring conversations to life.
Here is one to start.
To conclude our one-year ILI fellowship at Notre Dame, we went on a weeklong retreat in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in May 2023. On a three-hour flight from Chicago to Albuquerque, N.M., I sat next to a white woman in her 50s with the most tanned skin I had ever seen, reminding me of the ambiance in N.W.
After settling in, I opened Churches of New Mexico Today by Frank Graziano to get me in the mood for a place I had never been. After a while, I put my book down to rest my eyes.
“Are you a scholar?” The lady looked from my book cover to me.
“I’m a writer and, recently, a fellow at Notre Dame,” I replied, my eyes meeting hers. “Our last week of the program is a retreat in Santa Fe,” I added, introducing myself with pride.
“You must be returning home in New Mexico.” My thought of her skin tone slipped out into words.
“Yes, but I did not grow up there. I moved from Boston fifteen years ago,” she said softly. “The sun in New Mexico is so different. Just look at me…” She must have sensed what I had noticed about her appearance.
The conversational cues (the nonverbal signals that trigger and guide interactions, convey emotions, and prompt responses without explicit statements) are subtle yet essential for steering the conversation in the direction it takes at the time. No theories or formulas could explain or chart this, because no two conversations are the same.
She then asked what I wrote, which is usually like “opening a Pandora's box” for me, prompting me to start talking about my decades-long past, recent experiences, and writing process.
“I’m so sorry! What do you do in N.M.?” I suddenly asked.
Sensing that my story might have gone somewhat beyond her attention span – again, via subtle conversational cues, such as a slight change in the sparkle in her eyes and her facial expressions – I consciously changed the topic from talking about myself to letting her tell me about her stories. She then sketched a picture of a life I had only dreamed of.
She and her husband had acquired a ten-acre ranch in Albuquerque. She raised four horses and four dogs while her husband was a digital designer working full-time at home. After retiring from her job at an aquarium in Boston, she practiced, exhibited, and competed in horse shows. She had just returned from a weeklong horse-riding camp in Portugal, where she attended every year, as well as other training programs in the U.S. and around the world!
“Wow—I thought I had transitioned well from an economist to an engineer, and then becoming a writer!” My words burst out.
I told her that when I was about 8 years old, my family was sent to the countryside in China for 3 years. I would spend hours waiting and watching the horses being released after a full day’s work in the field. I would lead my favorite horse to the watering trough. Of course, they all knew where the water was, yet it gave me enormous pleasure. But my elder brother and sister always stayed as far away as they could. To them, it was too dusty and smelly!
I fell more in love with horses while I was in Inner Mongolia, China, for 3 years of re-education during Mao’s era. And then American Western movies, some I must have watched a dozen times. My daughter Cintty knew that about me, and she gifted me a mug engraved with: “Courage is being scared to death – but saddling up anyway.” – John Wayne. I have used it to drink coffee every day for a decade now.
(A hint: an interesting conversation must be a two-way street, about common interests in a subject, which we truly shared at that moment.)
For the first time, I learned that her Olympic sport was called dressage. The most challenging part is communicating with the horse from head to tail every step of the way. Horses are sentient beings, intelligent, and sensitive to the rider’s thoughts and visualizations. Once you understand your horse, your horse should know what you want them to do — the horse and rider become one -- the highest goal of a dressage performance. She spent most of her day taking care of the four horses and the dogs, while her husband never wanted to get close to the stable. She must have sensed my full inquisitiveness one way or another, so she told me so many of her life stories about living in N.M and competing in her sport.
“If my trip were not a group retreat this time, I would visit your ranch, help wash the horses, and get to know them!” I must sound serious, possibly more carried away.
“Yeah, right!” She responded promptly with a chuckle. “What would my husband think if I brought home a man I just met on the flight?” Her eyes gleamed even brighter – pleasant and frank – as if she were saying no to an idea she loved but wouldn’t go with.
I realized how silly and childlike I must have sounded! Yet I did not feel awkward or embarrassed about what I said because she was more amused than upset by who I was, by showing my spontaneous, fun side. Candor rather than wisecracks, I believe, should be the most welcoming conversational cue between almost every two people.
If the saying, “Alcohol is a social lubricant that brings people together,” is true, it’s because the “happy juice” has a way of removing our masks to reveal who we really are, sparking natural, lively conversations that can connect people. My accidental encounter has taught us at least one thing: we don’t always need alcohol to bring conversations to life.
What’s more, we humans are the most complex beings, with multiple facets (far more than just inward or outward), which means we all have an unpretentious, fun side as part of our personalities. It's a matter of when and to whom we show it. Besides, enthusiasm is the most contagious (so is apathy, for the same reason); that’s what draws one person to another from the first word, with a gleam in the firelight that few could resist.
Three hours of flight just slipped away, and the announcement came, “We will have 10 minutes before landing, and it’s sunny and beautiful in Albuquerque, N.M.”
“My name is Holly. I will check out your book.”
“My name is Cheng. I will look for you and your sport at the next Olympics!”
We took a photo together, but our conversation was far more mind-opening, captivating, and fanciful, and it lingers much longer in the mind than any photo could.
If you, like me, feel energized by in-person interactions after being drained by the digital world, you can have that energy by meeting real people almost anywhere and at any time. The truth is that connectedness begets more connectedness (as isolation does). It’s a choice we all can make: to bring conversations to life.
The 2024 Olympics ended, leaving me with many lingering thoughts and fond memories. It was fascinating to learn Dressage from Holly then and to see how humans can communicate impeccably with horses to perform art together now.
What stops us from communicating and understanding among our own kind?
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