Kafka’s Letters to Milena — Quotes that moved me
I’ve always marveled at people who could speak coherently and with perfect clarity of thought. Public speakers who speak extempore exhibit such authority and elan. They always have memorable anecdotes, funny jokes, and inquisitive remarks at their fingertips. Like a baby gawking at a silly toy, with my mouth agape, I listen to such people go on talking. I have this one classmate, a celestial beauty who always dresses like she’s walked out of a retro-themed party. She loves telling stories. She could make 10 people drop whatever shit they’re doing and listen to her expression-filled, gesticulation-rich recital. She’d be talking about her dumb pets, an annoying conversation with her mom, a cute and simple childhood memory, her gossipy neighbor, and all such trivial matters about her everyday life, but people would listen to her as if she were preaching the Holy Bible. Always radiating a hypnotic charm.
On the other hand, I exist on the opposite spectrum of fluency and thought articulation. I jump from one point to the next, sometimes circumstantial, sometimes disoriented. The pause I leave between words, as if trying to convey an insightful philosophical remark, is just a hapless search for the right phrases. A soothing tone, staggered sentences, dumb jokes, a sheepish smile, constant repetitions, abstract themes, and uncommon vocabulary all constitute my conversations.
Despite the oddness of it, I find babbling extremely comfortable. It’s like I’m not trying to be a perfect version of something I’m not. I’m not trying to mimic, memorize, or make efforts to come off as eloquent. As much as being a good communicator is important, so is being yourself and finding peace with who you are. I used to kick myself for not being oratory and a captivating storyteller like others, but now I’m mindful of the negative emotions elicited by striving for perfectionism. I enjoy being this way. I’m not extremely erratic. It doesn’t affect my interpersonal relationships or my work life. So what’s the harm?
I find babbling one of the most intimate acts. You are vulnerable enough to share your unadulterated, unconscious thoughts and wishes. You are your natural self. You’re ready to speak out your emotions and also willing to apologize if you say something moderately hurtful. It’s okay. Conversations don’t need to be mechanical and unflawed. Speaking out your mind and actively listening >>>> Walking on eggshells and faking your personality to sound authentic
In his letters to Milena, Kafka often deviates from the main matter and writes about all the menial stuff. Meandering through his everyday activities, meeting people, writing about insects or birds thriving near his house, dreams he had, random childhood memories, literary analogies, praise and admiration for her, and his constant longing for more letters from her, it gets to a point where you wonder why he’s writing all such insignificant details. But that’s him. That’s his safe place. That’s his love language. Babbling is extra cute when you have a loved one who matches your energy by listening and responding like you’re spewing the gospel of Christ.
