Islands in an Ocean of Words

This Essay was written starting September 19th, 2025 and brought to this point and recorded on November 13th, 2025.

Surely there are too many essays out there that start with the phrase "communication is everywhere" so I'll save you the trouble of redundancy by metacommunicating it. Truly everything subscribes to the axiom "One cannot not communicate" credited to Paul Watzlawick. In this metaphorical ocean of words and meanings, we can't help but feel like we're incessantly waterboarded by misinterpretations, mixed messaging, and blatantly wrong assumptions (in hindsight, that is). I propose that the best route to genuine interpersonal understanding is by means of an intentionally isolated conversational landscape: an island, of sorts. These islands are removed from the day-to-day torrent of communication by their location, focus, and openness. They're not just another dinghy to "chat" or "catch up" in, but instead an intentional, secluded setting that leads to truly meaningful dialogue. 

Volcanic Disruption

Similar to the formation of volcanic islands, the initial formation of an interpersonal island looks impressively disruptive. We think of communication as something that "just happens" and most people not studying it as intently as I (Joshua Steely, a Sophomore Human Communications Major) are often led to believe there is little reason to change "how they talk" or interact with others. That's just "how they are". Anything further can be regarded as "manipulative" or "ill-intended" because it doesn't seem to follow this natural flow of human communication. But we all learn how to interact from somewhere, and after pausing to consider these somewheres, most people would quickly admit their imperfections. Were your parents perfect communicators? Your teachers? Your friends or lovers? Seldom do they come close. Therefore the unnaturalness of observing our communication and ways to improve is crucial for our betterment. Sometimes you need an explosion.

I'm no geologist, but I'm pretty sure the famous volcano builds up pressure before it spews magma to the surface in a violent eruption. Just like the desire of humans to develop close relationships, all pressure eventually needs a release. Humans long for a closeness that we can derive from communication, but the contexts in which we can have close conversations are dwindling. Education and entertainment are moving online, and despite technology making things ever-more efficient, schedules are somehow getting busier and busier. When did you last sit down and just talk with a friend? Not to catch up, but to really talk? If it's been a while, the pressure and desire for closeness may be building up inside of you, looking for a release.

If a release of volcanic debris falls onto an existing landscape, it can shift it from lively to desolate. A blackened pile of ash coating what used to be the thriving city of Pompeii. I'm not talking about that kind of release. If you try to alter most existing communication environments with the concepts of islands, it will muddy them and detract from their own values. Those landscapes are beautiful as they are. Fun, joking, sarcastic conversations that result in nothing new learned and maybe even nothing new said are still valuable. Don't fully abandon this mainland of often messy communication. But keep your speedboat in tip-top shape. I only recommend the creation of an island as a vacation escape from unseriousness for a short while. You have to go back to the mainland for your supplies even after a couple hours. Your release (the explosion) should attempt to create an island, not settle on the existing terrain.

Establishing Islands

So what is an interpersonal island, and how do you construct one? To give you some examples, I've included two from my own life, and one that I've brainstormed for future use. My website, "Van Talks", and the "Kitchen Island", despite my best attempt, are certainly not universally applicable. So, following these examples I hope to identify consistent traits that can transfer over into your own circumstances. The 3 traits I've chosen are mutual, distraction-free, and established. With these three in mind, I hope you can give interpersonal islands a shot!

Island Examples

www.jsteelycr8.com.

Starting off simple, my "art blog" holds some examples of an island, yet without as much of the interpersonal parts. It is, after all, quite one-sided (barring the spelling errors my Mom emails me about after reading each post… thanks Mom). The value I've found in the site is its direct opposition to an app like Instagram. My site instead feels far more secluded from the infinitely intermingled content of social media. Sure, there are potentially 2.4 billion Instagram accounts (Dixon 2025), and an estimated nearly 2 billion websites (see www.internetlivestats.com; Armstrong 2021) but I have, in my own way, separated my output from social media in order to curate an island of communication. Now, this is not to say that my website comes close to the importance of conversational islands, but it is still relevant to the metaphor. As an artist, I am asked for pictures of my work, but often in the form of "what's your Instagram?" or "what's your social media?" Instead of a generic @, I get to answer them with a business card stamped on the inside of a cereal box. It creates a recognizable island by being a disruption to their normalcy found in handles. Instead of a jumble of characters, they are handed a physical thing, not even containing the key to their digital platform, but instead a link to a more informed site. They are handed a visitor's pass to my island.

This is to say, we ought to hand out passes to face-to-face communication islands. By constructing an area to host genuine conversation and inviting others into them with the prefaced expectation of thoughtful and open communication, we will reap the benefits of deepened relationships and greater self-understanding. But these passes need to be surprising, like a cardboard business card with a website as a 16–now 19–year old. The disturbance holds the potential to send out social ripples. It is a worthwhile rock tossed in a pond. Enough rocks and an island will form. Enough disturbance and a norm is established.

Van Talks.

Fittingly for the ocean metaphor, my current vehicle is a chunky silver minivan named Bruce, after the shark in Finding Nemo (2003). Recently, I've even embraced the name further by adding a shark fin on top and a bumper sticker that reads "Fish are Friends, Not Food". My very first interpersonal island was a dark blue, almost purple '06 Dodge Caravan I drove in high school. In it, I hosted what were dubbed "van talks" which became a form of intentionally secure deep conversation. At one point I attempted a podcast episode or two, but their primary use was getting to know friends at a deeper level than school waving-interactions¹ would allow. A vehicle has the benefit of natural seclusion and–now that I'm in college being constantly bombarded with social opportunities–can offer a welcome escape. In high school this escape was less necessary, as I had my own room, but far more optimal for sensitive conversation than within my thin-walled house. I had one friend in later high school that told me a van talk we had was the most meaningful conversation they had ever had. These were quality conversations, even for how comparatively little I knew about Human Communications back then.

What made van talks so good was my early introduction to concepts such as circular listening² from books like Malcolm Gladwell's Talking to Strangers and Outliers, paired with Charles Duhigg's similarly journalistic-styled Supercommunicators. With these incredible tools, I was able to host genuinely constructive conversations, unlike so much junior high and high school dialogue I experienced in and around school. It was my first great opportunity to practice listening skills after absorbing Gladwell's "the person that talks the most enjoys a conversation the most". Before reading that I was quite the talker. After reading that I consciously dialed it back and started to listen (though those who know me as the talker I still am are astounded I've "dialed it back"). People benefit from the ability to talk and be heard, but also to have the same opportunity to listen. I would reciprocate, not just take in, these deep life-evaluating topics. Through van talks, I became increasingly secure in my past, because I was so thoroughly reflecting on it with close friends. Van talks are a prime example of an interpersonal island. 

It is worth noting just how disruptive these meaningful conversations were to the high school norm. When does a school friend consciously seek out an organized opportunity for deeper conversation? The first time each friend was invited to the van for a van talk, I had to outline the rules and expectations. It was a new experience for them! I wanted to establish upfront the unfamiliarity, and set an expectation of embracing it. I explained to each of them the function of circular listening, and they seemed eager to participate in this unusually intimate dialogue. The strangeness was soon welcomed, but nonetheless remained strange in their broader ocean of communication.

The Kitchen Island.

My Minivans have had quite the run in establishing secure relationships through close dialogue, but one day if I am a family man, I certainly won't be having every conversation in a van. So I propose a new use for the marble slab in the middle of a kitchen: a designated interpersonal island. What if, instead of chasing family members around the house trying to hold a serious conversation, there was a designated space for serious, focused discussion? It would have the potential to limit inattention and multi-tasking, and allow for a place with consistently constructive back-and-forth. 

How this would function is such: if ever I wanted to have a conversation (with my hypothetical wife or children) I would ask them to chat at the island. They would be able to come and sit, knowing that whatever was to be discussed would benefit from their undivided attention. These topics could range anywhere from how the kids were doing in school to the current financial situation, to whatever real adults worry about (I'm not quite there yet). Here's the important part: if the person is unable to give their attention, they leave the island. 

But then what about the conversation? you may ask. Well what about it? If both parties are not open to hearing the other, what good is trying to have a conversation anyways? If the other person gets angry, the rooted state of the island allows them to leave, cool off, and come back when ready. If I'm sitting at the island, then that alone could signify I'd like to have an important conversation. There is so much precedent that could be set in having a designated space for focused conversation that it could save countless hours of bickering or lost attention. In the stools you know that the conversation is important, and if you are not in the mindset that allows for such a conversation, you leave. 

I'm struggling to put down the words that express the emotions so closely connected to the potential of a designated conversation area. It would be so helpful! I hope one day to put the idea into practice.

Three Common Factors

Mutuality.

Mutuality (or Equality) is crucial for establishing an equal playing ground. Something that prevents balanced dialogue (the goal of these islands) is a power differential. Therefore these meeting places cannot be in which one party has the upper hand. It must be neutral ground. My van only applied when I was parked in a place my partner could exit conveniently at any time. If I drove somewhere that they would need a ride back from, the power was in my hands enough to cause an imbalance. I chose the word mutuality over equality to emphasize the necessary agreement to co-opt a conversation before power differential even becomes relevant. Only if both parties are actually willing to attempt a constructive conversation will the island have any value. This requires a mutual understanding of the intentionality behind creating this kind of space.

Distraction-Free.

It is critical that interruptions are minimized. Any time something is let through the meticulously developed intimacy, a repair job is necessary to return to the same depth. A single text in the middle of a story can grind it to a halt faster than a sudden flat tire. It's not gradual–it's instant derailment. It's like getting chucked off the boat. It's like a bolt of lightning. It's bad. There is now so much research on how hurtful cell phones can be to conversation that I don't even have one best source to choose from. But phones aren't the only distractions, which is why I have an entire section later dedicated to "the sharks circling" the island, waiting for a chance to bite. Do your best in any potentially productive space to limit these shark attacks.

Established.

The first conversation in a space, especially with unfamiliar partners, will most often be a largely reflective conversation, building rapport. Only after the space has been utilized multiple times can it be practical in a pinch. Only once it is established can it be referred to, as my "van talks" similarly began to gain precedent. Be especially careful in the first few uses of an island, as setting the wrong precedent may be difficult to correct later down the line. But once you have the right ones set, and have mutually agreed upon the boundaries of the space, it can be of immense use.

Islandic Biomes

Before we get to the sharks I've identified four conversation types ("biomes" if you will) that will benefit from stranded conversation. That is, conversation that takes place on these interpersonal islands, secluded and intimate in a way that allows for truly constructive dialogue. These four types are reflective, circumstantial, relational, and predictive. I will touch on each shortly, but they all share some of the same benefits. When stranded, these conversations are all far more effective than if addressed in the deafening, battering waves of oceanic conversation. That is, conversation that takes place in the ocean of endless communication, with countless inputs all being thrust upon you at once–distractions stealing your attention and interruptions halting progress. Imagine trying to tell a close friend about grieving the loss of a loved one in the middle of a concert or a bustling mall. Imagine opening up your heart to someone as their phone starts to ring and they turn away saying, "I have to take this". Interpersonal islands are what allow conversations to move past the fleeting and into the influential. 

You may be starting to think that these islands are just a matter of attention. In that case though, a preacher in his pulpit or a teacher at her podium would be on a church or classroom island. But alas, their stage is a mere boat's deck, still tossed by waves of distraction. Only in isolated conversation can real focus be attained. That's not to say value is unable to be gained from their messages–after all, I'd rather be on a boat than among the sharks–but the rocking is far from the security of dry ground. 

Before I get too carried away in metaphor, recognize this: I am aiming for an understanding of when and where the best conversations can occur, and how I can structure my life to have more of them. I thrive in an engaging dialogue, whether or not I agree with the other person–honestly more often than not I prefer disagreements because they lead to more difficult conversational gymnastics as I try to navigate a way to mutual understanding. But this is self-indulgent as one who enjoys communication theory and practice. For the sake of others, I want to make this quality of conversation more accessible, which is why I'm trying to formulate a method to practically develop these islands in your own life. I know that not everyone has a minivan or a viable place in their home, but I hope with these tips and some creativity, anybody can form one for their own circumstances. Now I'd like to dive into each of these "biomes" and keep expanding my self-entertaining metaphor. There is plenty of overlap between the four, but I think the distinctions are still worth exploring.

The "Reflective" Biome

I begin with reflection because I think it is easily the most accessible of the four biomes. Think of it as a tropical jungle filled to the brim with opportunities for exploration. You're bound to get lost in it, and come out the other end having only explored a fraction. But also, just as a jungle is home to plenty of poisonous plants and potential beasts, so is the past filled with touchy subjects and yet-to-be-uncovered realizations. They were there before you got there, but how you conversationally interact with them has dangerous potential. 

To make the metaphor concrete, I'll pull from generalized examples. Parental influences, childhood friends, experiences in school, traditions, and literally anything that has already happened can be the basis of a reflective conversation. Anything that involves history allows for conclusions to be drawn from, because a conclusion happened to the event. Of course, if it is part of your own life, that conclusion has not come yet, but chapters may have been finished (even if they are revisited or lost later). These chapters can be the topic of self-explorative or explanatory conversations, trying to establish why you are the way that you are and how you are unique from or similar to your conversational partner. 

The benefits from reflective conversation are plentiful, and reflection continues into every conversation, as it is the foundation of our understanding. We quite literally cannot know something we have not previously come in contact with. First time encounters with newness instantly become the past. By the time you try to reflect on the present, it's suddenly the past! The omnipresence of history is extra tangible in meaningful dialogue, as explanations are constantly being derived from personal experiences or previously learned knowledge. Any new ideas are built upon the foundation of reflection. Additionally, reflective comparison is how most friends "get to know each other" in the first place before they experience things together and are able to have relationally reflective conversation. "Oh, you were in a choir? Me too!" unlocks a whole range of comparison dialogues and allows for precedented jokes regarding choral music making. Saying to that one friend who you know was in a choir "I'm a soprano at heart" will make a whole lot more sense than if you said it trying to joke with a musically ignorant friend. Reflection builds foundations in relationships and sets the groundwork for the other three types of conversation.

The "Circumstantial" Biome

Now, this is as in-the-moment of a conversation as you can get. A circumstantial discussion is based on what you and/or your conversational partner is in the midst of. It's when you're trying to figure out what in the world is going on in your life right now. Inevitably, the circumstantial discussion pulls from both reflective observation of recent events or past patterns, and predictive outcomes. It's the act of exploring new connections to past events and imagining potential outcomes. These can be wildly creative in both positive and negative lights (see: "catastrophizing").

The "Relational" Biome

Anything pertaining to shared experiences, past, present, and future, is a relational conversation. Whether discussing how to improve a friendship, or to end a relationship, extensively personal topics such as deeply-rooted desires and values tend to be relevant. These are not just conversations with established loved ones, however, as these risky value-sharing discussions are how close relationships are initially formed as well. To get close with anybody, you most often start with a shared experience. Even if you meet at a random coffee shop in a random city, your shared experience was being at that same coffee shop at that same time. Relational conversation has the unique power of becoming shared reflective conversation. Inside jokes? Those only work because you shared the experience and can now reference it together.

The "Predictive" Biome

Off in the distance is a tiny dot. You're sure it's another island, but you're on this island, discussing what may be on that one. You may never make it there, but the discussion of the possibility is a predictive conversation. This is typically the most imaginative conversation and is closely tied with circumstantial conversations, but needn't relate to anything currently occurring. These are admittedly the kinds of conversations I most often have with myself (in my head) as I imagine my own future. Entrepreneurs and visionaries often rely professionally on mastering this kind of conversation, trying to provide security in the uncertainty of tomorrow. While sometimes these conversations can seem frivolous or pointless, they are like a child's imagination: something we ought not to live without. 

The Sharks Circling

Up until now it's as though I've assumed you and your conversational partner will simply refrain from making mistakes. That's not at all the case. Emotions, for example, are a fickle thing that all-too-often spoil opportunities for constructive conversation. Anger and sadness overwhelm a person so physically, that sometimes choking back rage or tears leaves one at a loss for words. It's little use babbling under a waterfall if you're trying to come up with a plan for your taxes. Overwhelming emotions are just one of the metaphorical "sharks" attempting to detract from the productive conversation on an island. The few I list also include defensiveness, the infamous cell phone, and children (though I know nothing from the side of a parent). With each shark, I attempt to offer a solution that allows for continued conversation, but often the best option is a break. Just cool down and come back to the discussion at a later time and/or date with a cooler head.

Emotions

If the opportunity of a break or the necessary self-awareness to know one needs a break is not present, then emotions are the most frequent offender for ruining a productive conversation. Boiling anger disrupts listening abilities, and sinking sadness can pull away from a moment. Emotional flares are unpreventable and even acceptable, but must be dealt with constructively. Perhaps the sadness informs that you really do have a problem with something the other said, and it needs to be explored delicately. Maybe an anger flare-up tells you that you aren't in a good state to be attempting constructive talk right now, so you need to go cool down for a bit. Emotions are often the notifications that ding in our mind instead of our pocket, and our response is up to us. Ignorance may lead to more dings (especially if it's your mom asking where you've been) but over-dwelling can distract from what's in front of you. Emotions are to be acknowledged, then appropriately responded to. Failing to do so will surely jeopardize productivity.

Escape Routes

Leaving the island needs to always be an option. As I mentioned from my own experience, if it's a van, the driver needs to be parked next to the partner's house or own vehicle. If it's the kitchen table, the partner needs to be able to get up without being followed. Escape needs to be an option because believe it or not, not everyone can voice a level-headed opinion in the heat of an important dialogue. Sometimes the ability to step away is what makes or breaks a conversation because it reduces outbursts, and redirects what could be seen as forced isolation into optional intention. 

Defensiveness is what results from lacking an escape route, and if you've ever tried to converse with a defensive person, you know you might as well stop. You can say the same thing a hundred times in a hundred tones with increasing volume, but if the person across from you already shut you down in their head it won't matter. They need a break, and to come back to the conversation when they are able to listen. If your partner is never able to listen, then I'm sorry–you simply won't have productive conversations as I'm idealizing. 

Notifications

I touched on this earlier: phones are bad. If the screen is up or the ringer on, any valuable conversation can be chucked aside if a light or noise activates. Even in the seclusion of my van, phones were always a risk of distraction. Some people do not treat technology as I do, and would have their phones on vibrate or even fully on. Limiting notification-producers is a must. Similarly, limiting the option to satisfy an urge to pick up a phone and check for notifications is important. It's best to leave phones out of the space.

Children

Trying to disrupt a social norm with intentionally secluded conversations as mature adults is one thing, but trying it with children is surely a different beast. My only prediction is that if it is modelled well for them, they will be able to do it well, and if it is modelled poorly, they will lack the unlearned skill. The best thing parents can do to teach their kids constructive conversation is to practice it in front of them. Instead of having every conversation behind closed doors, try to make the interpersonal island in the kitchen or dining room–a place where the kids can observe a civil dialogue and respectfully participate. It is important to explain to them the value of focus and respect in these conversations, else they may quickly turn sour.

What I cannot yet begin to understand however, is the extent at which children can bring up the three major sharks (emotion, the ability to leave, and distraction). Perhaps if you actually have children you are screaming at this essay, accusing its principles as inapplicable to your chaotic life. However I will counteractively play the "user error" card, and implore you to try harder. Perhaps you consider your children to be actual animals shredding every fiber of your peace, or they are too young to be left alone long enough for this long, uninterrupted conversation, or more likely they will find ways to interrupt it more effectively than even your phone can. Anyway, I am certain there are workarounds to appease the children or better yet, invite them into the conversation so they may learn and grow alongside you. I worked at a summer camp recently, and you'd be surprised how much 12 year olds can teach you about life.

Time

Sadly, the passage of time is the ultimate, inevitable conversation limiter. We run out of energy and willpower as the day progresses, and can't keep talking forever. You need breaks! But you worked so hard to get to this point of vulnerability! You worked so hard even to read this essay written by a kid about trying to have effective conversations, to the point where now you're too tired to even say goodnight to your dog! While I am far from bold enough to make generalized assumptions of your individual time availability, I know it is finite. I just hope that its finitude does not prevent you from trying to have constructive, life-giving conversations. I think it's worth it.

¹ I define "waving-interactions" as short passings, most prevalent for me in school settings. In a waving-interaction, the two parties have far too little time to do more than allude to a deeper subject. If it is more than the ever-present college campus wave coupled with a "Hey [insert name here]!" and isn't about classes or shared connections, these brief interactions only allow for a couple meaningful sentences before duty or schedule calls a party elsewhere. If a deeper conversation, or at the very least a meal, is never shared with these "waving-friends" then only the name truly may relevantly persist in the relationship. Little meaning but a consistently friendly smile can be further derived.

² Circular Listening is the method of active listening that results in mirrored statements leading with "I hear you saying" followed by an attempt at accurately repeating what a partner just said. This helps the partner feel heard, and gives them an opportunity to correct any miscommunications. It is often extremely helpful in more serious dialogues, where learning nuances in understanding is the whole goal.

References

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Dixon, S. (2025, June 25). Instagram users worldwide 2019-2028. Statista. https://www.statista.com/forecasts/1138856/instagram-users-in-the-world 

Duhigg, C. (2024). Supercommunicators. Random House.

Gladwell, M. (2008). Outliers. Little, Brown and Company.

Gladwell, M. (2019). Talking to Strangers. Little, Brown and Company.

internetlivestats (accessed 2025, September 19). Total number of Websites. https://www.internetlivestats.com/watch/websites/ 

Steely, J. (2025). The Art and Thoughts of Joshua Steely. jsteelycr8. https://www.jsteelycr8.com/ 

Unkrich, L., & Stanton, A. (2003). Finding Nemo. Buena Vista Pictures.