I found out that someone listened to me the other day. At one point, I wanted to show him the sky because it was a wonder to me. Just God showing off a little. He didn’t have time and said so. A little bit later (a day or so,) I told him how, when he said so nonchalantly dismissed my awe, it hurt. I know he is religious and I wanted to share with him. The thing is, he didn’t just hear me, he listened. Well over a year later, he remembered. Such a gift, listening to someone. A tiny piece of his life and memory that keeps what I said to him. He gave me a piece of himself by taking the time to listen.
“English, but I suppose any language will do…”
I have joined Toastmasters International, and for the Valdosta Chargers, am a charter member. I have 2 weeks to fabricate my “Icebreaker” speech. Not making it up, but actually building, the structure and content of my presentation. The purpose of this speech is to introduce the speaker to the club. I am shy (more on that later). That is the reason I joined Toastmasters. I write on a we’blog’, maintaining my anonymity, and speak as I choose. I thought I would agonize over speaking in front of the members, but no, I look forward to it! To get up and talk – about anything, content is not evaluated – is incredible. And I use that word in its root sense – it is not possible to give it credit; it is not to be believed. I have found kindred spirits in that they love words, the history of language, the history and usage of the words themselves. Words and linguistic constructs are as tools to a craftsman; we build pictures in the mind.
Toastmasters, so I am told, was created to encourage people. To give them the experience and thus confidence to come out of their shells and be more formidable as leaders and communicators. I desperately need this; as I said, I am shy. Shy, in some clinical circles, has been defined as an extreme form of self-centeredness. How? Because the shy person is so very concerned with “what if they don’t like me”, “what if they think I’m stupid”, and basically, “what will they think of me?” All of these queries center on a reflexive subject. For me it’s time to grow up and be a big girl. It’s time to get over myself and get on with being the articulate and creative creature that I am meant to be.
As far as painting pictures in the mind: I am a visual thinker. That means if you say it, I see it. It’s like a camera in my head. I have a very vivid imagination and, at times, it carries me away. Gets me into trouble even. Sometimes a turn of phrase hits my minds eye in just the right way. I bust up, and there was nothing funny about what the speaker was trying to convey. Nothing like cracking up during a eulogy. I suppose this is due to my love of word history. I took Latin in the 8th grade. That was it, I was hooked. Words took on a whole new light (point in case – I see glowing words here.) It’s funny how a word meant one thing at one period in time and then came to mean something entirely different in the present tense. To me, the best stories not only convey a sequence of events, but the lexicon used twines around the central thesis and bears literal fruit.
And so it comes to my reflexive introduction. Keeping in mind that shyness is a form of self concern, I strive to be objective. If two people look at a star sapphire, the stars they see will be in different places. No matter where they stand in relation to the stone, they will never see the same star in the same place. I am that stone; we all are. No two people will see me in the same light. Our individuality prevents. I have been tasked with telling the Valdosta Chargers Toastmasters Club who I am. Each of them will see me differently, defined by different values, acquired by different experiences. Even as they hear the same words, they see my star in a different place. I can tell them who I see when I look in a mirror, but I can never tell them what mirror in which to look. What they see is up to them. What they see in me, in their coworker, in the human race. When they ask me to tell them who I am, they are asking me to look at them as my mirror, but they will be the ones seeing my reflection.
Wants and Don’t Wants
My father is dying. It hurts. I want to cry. I want to spend as much time as possible with him. I want to quit work for a while and go be with him. I want him to laugh. I want him to teach me everything he knows.
I don’t want to miss him. I don’t want to be doing something and think “I’ll ask Daddy – Oh, Yeah…” I don’t want to hear his voice only in my mind. I don’t want his smile to only be seen in photographs. I don’t want the hole his passing will leave in my life. I don’t want him to suffer. I don’t want him to die.
Let Us Dispense with The Unpleasantries
I just don’t have the time. There are too many good things in the world I know nothing about, to spend my time fussing. You may go ahaed without me. I’m too old, and there are too many wonders. Wouldn’t it be better, instead, if you came with me?
Anthem of an Angel
I don’t feel like working today. A dear man and God “grand”father to my youngest son passed into the silence of peace yesterday. This is profound for this man. He was choir master of my church and held a PhD in music. Silence was the antithesis of him, the kindest of souls. He taught me about God’s gift of music, and how man is greater for it. I am certainly greater for knowing him. From learning from him. From the privelige of hearing his majestic baritone sing the praises and glories of our heavenly Father. He did so much more for me than just teach me to sing; he taught my soul to rejoice in music. He gave my voice wings.
Rest easy in the presence of the Lord, Lavan. The heavenly host of angels singing praises will sound richer with your voice.