Multilingual without Words…

I communicate in many languages.  But my lexicon doesn’t contain words per se.  No, I’m not talking about texting but of a communication so beautiful no words are necessary.

In seasonal poetry gatherings each of us brings a random poem to read aloud.  The words we share are not our own but the understanding we glean from the words of others.  While some may be serious, others witty, or thought provoking — and on any topic of choosing, a common thread soon appears.  Ah, no doubt the Universe is at play here we chuckle each time we recognize the unintentional theme that connects us together.

The languages I convey do not use technology, social media, or heaven forbid a cell phone.  A verbal silence in hand drumming makes room for magic.  When words do not appear, the voice of the drums speaks profoundly through our creative energy.  Rhythms intertwine, calling, responding, supporting, expressing, wandering, somewhere…but together.

Standing in my kitchen, I cook.  My focus is lovingly preparing a tasty meal, and setting a table that honors the food and the ones it nourishes.  Sitting together then and savoring  this offering of utilitarian sensory art reveals the unseen ingredient.

Sharing the bounty of my garden, holding the door open for someone, offering a smile, anyone can understand.  I do not need to say one word to communicate with anyone anywhere.  All of us can speak the same language when we do not use words.

Multilingual

 

 

 

Winding Roads

Someone read a poem today.
That made me think

The winding road
is
our lives.

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Many of us reach the same destination.
Albeit different ways,
Different paths, whys, hows,
with different words
for the same concept —
a nearly same experience.

Isn’t that the wonder of our uniqueness
yet sameness?

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We begin a path, a book, a plan,
then change course
for whatever reason.
A break-up.
Job loss.
Dying desire
to live
one’s passion.

Altering our course
we may step back
and the change brings greater challenges
we did not forsee
ahead
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yet we gain along the way
from what we did not know,
And then it is behind us.

 

 

Why focus on the end
when we never know
when
the end will truly be?

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Fluent by John O’Donohue

I would love to live
Like a river flows,
Carried by the surprise
Of its own unfolding.