Celebrating the Art of “Blethering”

The forgotten treasure of live conversations and how to ignite them

Dougie Mackay
7 min readDec 11, 2018

--

Yesterday I was in the sauna, sitting amidst other sweaty, rosy-glowing folk escaping the Scottish Winter. Through the blurred haze of bodies, one clammy comrade left for the cold shower and shrieked with shock and delight.

An aged voice responded.

“Dear me…You know they reckon that if you activate the vagus nerve on your face with cold water it does wonders for your health.”

All three sauna levels were full, bodies arranged at angles so as not to touch the knees of others. People seemed unsure how to meet this impromptu conversation.

“It’ll certainly wake you up, right enough” I piped, and offered a few encouraging words about cold water & vitality, “My granny used to say it was bad luck to wash your face in warm water.”

“Aye, there must be something in it.”

Speedo-clad men shuffled, making uncommitted sounds, but the conversation slowly warmed up.

“I like wild swimming myself” stated the elderly woman. I’m also a fan of occasionally submerging in frigid coastal waters of this northern landscape. More needed now than ever, for us modern city dwellers we concluded.

The guy beside us stated that he’d grown up on a farm and joined the radical act of public conversation.

The woman talked of the Norwegian style huts becoming popular in the country for weekend escapes. This lead naturally onto talk of Scottish “bothies” (buildings up in the mountains providing free shelter to walkers) and by this time everyone was in.

Photo by Max Hermansson on Unsplash

It seemed everyone had a “bothy” story and an opinion. I’d never have guessed.

Some complained of the ignorance of the uninitiated, burning wooden wall panels for lack of firewood or of the trepidation of arriving at an unexpected drunken party. One guy felt at least these city dwellers were getting a dose of nature. It was a step in the right direction.

Some had enjoyed great music and “craic” in bothies, whilst others felt strange with quiet dormitory neighbours that chose to sleep silently from 8pm.

The fact that people could access these wild spaces was celebrated. The social awkwardness that ensued from sharing a dormitory space with unpredictable strangers a slight inconvenience.

“Aye, we’ve lost the ability to socialise with strangers it seems.”

Surely another vital human element we’ve managed to forget over a generation or so: how to interact in a common space with other human beings.

As I vacated to activate embrace the cold and activate my vagus nerve, I mused the second rich conversation in that sauna in as many weeks. Talking with formless folk in their trunks I discovered again that the yearning for nature time, and the social conundrum of how we relate to each other and revive an ailing western culture, seem close to the surface in the most common conversation these days.

Both times it took an elderly bather to instigate conversation, but as someone descended from a long line of “bletherers” my encouragement brought forth a few wee jewels of amusement, and resulted in a group of random Scots in their trunks chatting about life, nature and everything.

The Power of Live Communication

As a storyteller, I like chatting.

As an outdoor educator I like nature.

Whilst the latter is enjoying something of a cultural resurgence relating to human well-being and simple satisfaction, I haven’t yet read any reports on the needs for a decent chat three times a week, despite the levels of loneliness in this country being termed “epidemic”.

Impromptu conversations to me are the realm where the little ideas are exchanged. Voices are shared outside of established hierarchy. Trust in the hopes and values of the faceless crowd surrounding us, tentatively restored.

Convinced?

Want to help bring about a conversational revolution?

I doubt it’s top of many people’s existential Christmas list, but I do sense there’s a quiet richness and pleasing texture available, both for us, and those with whom we share when we take time to converse. When maintaining grace, it’s a welcome relief to social media squabbling, and keeps alive our most essential social medium.

The digital world is great. The real world isn’t all bad either.

Face to face we strive for commonality. Behind screens we seem to seek controversial complaints and difference.

How did live interaction with strangers become challenging, and how do we rediscover its delights?

Six keys to a brilliant “blether”

  1. Show Curiosity

It’s amazing what a simple, “aye?” with willing eye contact can bring out.

I work with children and they always have stories to tell. Sometimes overly keen to do so, as I suspect their stories don’t often get the attention they merit elsewhere. Drawing out their stories I hear what’s important to them, then can better keep them engaged, participating and having fun. I’d say it’s the number one skill required for my youth work. I show curiosity in what they are curious about, and together we learn, play and cooperate in a most curious fashion.

Adults are just grown up children. After navigating any learned suspicion, cynicism, and delusions of self importance, grown ups can have a wealth of insight and experience willingly shared when invited and feeling safe.

Trust is key. Once feeling safe, one’s beauty can more readily emerge.

2. Consolidate

Starting from a place of commonality is a good foundation for building the trust necessary to make any subsequent conversational leaps. You don’t need to be a nodding lapdog but being genuinely open to another perspective and finding genuine common ground paves the way for the conversational journey.

If you’d rather argue, try Facebook.

3. Step beyond your comfort zone

Sitting around agreeing all day isn’t going to change the world, or provide the most stimulating discussion. Once your into the conversational groove there’s grace to say more profound statements, reveal a wee bit of your truth without scaring people off, and take the opportunity to respectfully disagree whilst still happily communicating.

I like to test what I think to be on the edge of mainstream culture, and mention the things I find valuable. Often I’m warmly rewarded with quality chat and interest.

I’m not the only one who believes we should spend more time outside. I’m not the only one wondering how we can make the world a better place. Seemingly everyone enjoys a good story after all. Or so people I speak with lead me to believe.

4. Enthusiasm not evangelism

Passion can light up those around you. Sparking hope, intrigue and inspiration. It can also feel like dealing out an ideological battering when not sensitive to the other, or the wider circle.

Keep your passions true, by all means wear them on your sleeve but don’t stitch them to everyone else’s sleeve without consent, regardless of how sure you are you are right. Slow and steady wins the race. If what you speak is truth it’ll come to light sooner or later. Nudge gently. Give your insights as a gift, not an enforced ideological subscription.

5. Ray of hope

There’s a lot to be depressed about in the modern world. We all know it, and are reminded seemingly everywhere we look. Real conversation will likely touch on the troubles of our times. Climate, economy, social well-being, it can be a challenge to put a positive spin on any of these.

Some aspects of our modern consumer culture are dying, its not a simple plaster and paracetamol job, and it can be painful for all of us. We’re ripe for change with good reason.

There is also a wealth of innovation, positive action and rays of light to hearten the fellowship at the gates of Mordor. It is a rare miracle to live in this moment on planet Earth. Beautiful as it is tragic, but a blessing to be here at all.

If we have no such hope to offer, then likely we have a more imminent need than improving our conversation skills. Researching Joanna Macy’s work with the Work that Reconnects, Jon Young’s Eight Shields model of cultural repair, or plunging your vagus nerve into a Scottish waterfall may prove useful starters.

6. Acknowledge the other

Nice chatting to you.

It’s good to acknowledge and show gratitude for even the slightest little moment of intimacy shared. It’s a rare treat to be encouraged. A privilege to witness another person’s hopes, fears and insight, maybe enjoying a wee bit of “craic” too if lucky.

I like catching people’s names. It makes the exchange official.

It’s easy to overlook the small, everyday actions. It seems at times like the human race is set to plunge of a cliff into rising seas, with pirates set to rob us of our life jackets and survival flapjack. But the small acts are key, not only to keep us sane, but to create a steady up-swell of connected culture who have some vague notion of what the heck is going on. None of us have all the answers, but all of us have some.

Systems theory supports the idea that these small threads of connection are indeed what makes up the larger whole.

Simply speaking with people, maintaining an attitude of curiosity, an intention of bringing value, allows us to rediscover a intricate tapestry of rich emotion and insight. Shared values and concerns, evolving as our world, and we within it, change too. Responsive to new experiences and ideas, some of which may be shared in a sauna.

The aforementioned Joanna Macy, and many other leading thinkers and doers, claim its time for each of us to step up and into the process of the Great Turning- from industrial growth to life sustaining culture- and that if we don’t our days are likely numbered.

Could we assist this cultural shift through the simple act of caring conversation with strangers?

Share ideas that can inspire, give hope and gently challenge. Remember how to enjoy the human connection and learn from everyday folk.

We find ourselves amidst interesting times and its the wee steps, as well as the grand that can turn this game around and make life worth striving for .

I’m interested to know your thoughts

Dougie

--

--

Dougie Mackay

Exploring the richness of folk tales, swimming in Scottish rivers and laughing with my daughter. Traversing the wild edges of regenerative culture.