Image after image flashes out in front of me. I sit patiently for a while watching and listening. Listening and watching. Then my chin slowly migrates down toward my chest until I am finally focussing nearly fully on a different set of images flashing in front of me in my lap. Instead of listening to what others have learned or understood, I am seemingly more interested in my own stuff. Perhaps that is why I began thinking about it in the first place. Likely, the real answer is that even though we all come from the same place more or less, we each speak a very different language. After all, your jargon is essentially a foreign language to me.
I think back to when I was new to this sort of venue. I had my pad of paper and my pencil and I actually took pages of notes. I was thirsty and tenacious to pick up everything that I could. Now I tend to focus my attention on the warm machine resting on my thighs. Sometimes all I seem capable of doing is looking up at the bigger screen and nodding before turning back to my own. In those moments I don't feel so hungry any more. Sometimes I feel content just to ride along on the hand I have already dealt myself. I wonder if my spirit has been diminished by choice or necessity. After all, I have a full platter of my own work responsibilities to deal with and your jargon is a foreign language to me.
(Some thoughts running through my mind as I sat through a session of talks in a conference at work.)