Malachi’s Mummy

We all do it. 

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you?” 

“Yea, really well thanks.”

….

How many of us have ‘conversation’ on a regular basis?

When did I become content with exchanging mere pleasantries and basic polite rituals, not just with strangers and acquaintances but also with people I consider to be my nearest and dearest? When did I lose the art of conversation? 

Growing up, my Gran would be on the phone for hoooours! You know, the house phone. Remember those! She’d occasionally shove it in my hand to speak to some distant cousin or somebody from back home in Barbados who knew me but I had no idea who they were.

I didn’t understand it at the time. But now I do, and I secretly long for it.

As a millennial I have the joy of remembering a world before the digital age. Before we all became hunchback neanderthals glued to our phones. Devices that should make communication and conversation more accessible, I feel like I’m seeing the opposite. 

Guilty as charged, I have watched my phone ring and not answered – sometimes with no real reason other than I don’t want to be inconvenienced in that moment. Sometimes you just don’t want to talk to anyone, but when it becomes a habit, we should explore why. 

We don’t like phone calls anymore, apparently we feel ambushed by them, and now I don’t think we even want to respond to messages – I saw a threads post from fellow millennial Jackie Hill Perry recently who felt like messages were the same as managing an email inbox.And don’t get me started with face-to-face communication.

Again, I remember being at home as a child and people would just drop by unannounced. Shock, horror if someone dared pass by because ‘they were in the area’ these days! 

A content ‘community’ 

When did it become normal for us to hold the people we love at arm’s length, satisfied with catching up occasionally and sharing the highlights of the last 6 months. It’s almost like we’ve adapted the social media ‘share your highlight reel of perfection’ to our real lives. 

What would it look like to share my life with my circle in real time? Motherhood has highlighted this massively. I’m not satisfied with just sharing tips on the minefield that is breastfeeding (that deserves its own blog!) with other mums. I want to share when I’m having a really hard time and why that might be – I also need to talk about anything other than motherhood sometimes! Who can I share challenges with, while I’m in the trenches, rather than retrospectively once I’m all better? What would it look like for our friends to sit with us in our joys and sadness as it happens?

It might be awkward, we might say the wrong thing, we might not even help to change the situation, but at least we’d be there.

Living in community

I asked one of my friends why cultivating friendship is so important to him. He mentioned a few things but one was about the community and that it’s essential for us to be doing life together. I worry that the digital age, while connecting us in unprecedented ways, seems to be weakening our physical, real-world communication and connecting skills. 

The digital world also means we’re a part of a global community and can be well versed in what’s happening thousands of miles away – this is a good thing, it expands our horizons and sometimes calls us to advocate on behalf of those who aren’t being heard. But how many of us know what’s happening in the local area? Do we even know our neighbours’ names? 

Even a quick search on Canva for the right image for this blog showed text message conversations and online chats.When did this become the default?! Are we becoming more proficient at having conversations online than in the real world? I don’t have time to go into my thoughts on online dialogue that often lack any empathy or regard for the other person behind the computer.

When we moved to Burghfield, a small village outside of Reading, we knew we’d need to make more effort to connect with our neighbours. 

We lived in our flat in Cheshunt for nearly three years and didn’t know our neighbours names, settling for sending a Christmas card to ‘number 9’ instead.

I remember when we finally decided to go next door to introduce ourselves. The intention was just to say hello from the doorstep, exchange a few pleasantries and keep it moving, but oh no, he insisted that we came in. We stayed for an hour. Yes, there were awkward silences and I was half listening at times trying to form a queue of questions in my head, but we survived and have given an invitation for him to pop over for a drink soon. This kind of exchange shouldn’t be a big deal. 

A beautiful exchange

This week, I had the privilege of witnessing a profoundly beautiful conversation that reminded me of my innate longing for connection and companionship.

It was an unexpectedly warm but not quite Spring day on Thursday and I was taking the bus to an appointment. An old man in a wheelchair wearing just shorts and a shirt, boarded shortly after me. After some casual banter between the man and the bus driver about his attire, I sensed an unspoken awkwardness in the air — perhaps a shared discomfort among passengers unsure of whether to offer to help and how best to engage with him.

Amidst this hesitation, one woman broke the ice with a simple question: “Are you comfortable over there?” And just like that I had a front row seat as a beautiful exchange began to unfold.

He shared snippets of his life with an openness that was both humbling and inspiring. From battling rheumatoid arthritis to surviving a life-altering car accident. They asked each other what their plans for the day were, he shared his love for getting out despite the challenges around his mobility. She shared how sorry she was that he had to endure discomfort. 15 mins into their chat she extended her hand to introduce herself and share how much she enjoyed meeting him. 

What struck me the most was the genuine connection that blossomed between him and the woman sitting beside him. In a matter of minutes, they were no longer strangers but bound together by the shared experience of a bus ride and a willingness to connect on a deeper level. It was a reminder that in a world often marred by superficial interactions, genuine human connection is still possible—it just requires a willingness to step outside our comfort zones and engage with authenticity and empathy.

The Art of conversation

Maybe good conversation should be like messy, beautiful pieces of art. Throwing colours onto the canvas and seeing what happens. Each person brings their own brush to the table, adding their unique swirls and splashes to the mix.

Unlike a maths problem with a specific set of rules for the correct outcome, I see conversation more like freestyling with words, a creative process, where there’s room for messiness and imperfection. It’s not about getting everything perfect—it’s about embracing the chaos and finding beauty in the unexpected. 

But are there some key ingredients to a good convo? Three come to mind. 

1. Curiosity – Tell me more. Why did you do that? What happened next? How did you feel? Questions are a great way to delve deeper to understand more about the people that we’re chatting to. They help us to seek understanding, and explore new ideas. 
2. Vulnerability – the willingness to share our thoughts, feelings, and experiences openly – use wisdom though! You have to know what you can share and with. 
3. Empathy – creates a safe space for dialogue and broadening our perspectives on how others are experiencing life. 

Having lived  in London for 7 years, it’s easy to become comfortable in the silence of anonymity—to retreat into our own worlds, avoiding the chaos and complexity of those around us. 

Witnessing that moment of connection on the bus, I am reminded of the profound impact that a simple conversation can have. I am reminded of the importance of showing up fully in our interactions—with strangers and loved ones. I am reminded that every conversation, no matter how brief, has the potential to be a beautiful exchange—an opportunity to connect, to learn, and to grow together. In a world often starved for genuine connection, I’m eager to find ways to go deeper with people around me. 

Some of you reading this might be horrified at the thought of connecting with strangers (or even your loved ones 😂) on a deeper level. But I agree with my friend, life isn’t meant to be lived in isolation.

I’m realising that establishing a real community is about authentically sharing, not performing or perfection. So let’s find ways to listen intently, and embrace the messiness of real conversation so we can form deeper connections.