Lost In Translation

This is what he said:

“Let’s just use the rest of this up.”

This is what I heard:

“You probably won’t think of this, so I’d better remind you. This food needs to be eaten up, and we don’t want it to go to waste.”

A little context might be helpful.

My husband and I are starting the Whole30 tomorrow, and trying to finish up all of the non-compliant food before then. Tom was referring to some of said food, and simply letting me know that he was helping us do that.

His comment wasn’t meant to criticize, correct, or challenge me. That, however, is how I heard it, and as a result, my response was less than gracious.

Thankfully curiosity came on the heels of my snarky comment. Following that thread of inquiry led me to the discovery of my very own inner translator. One that takes a message and instantly converts it into my mother tongue, confirming an old story that has been with me for as long as I can remember. In this case, the story that I have to protect myself from strong male voices that only want to keep me in my place, question my abilities, and tell me how things are.

Programs like Google Translate work to predict the likelihood of a sequence of words, and quickly convert them from one language to another.

Our inner translators work in much the same way.

In other words, we hear what we are listening for rather that what is actually being said.

Hearing Aids

I assumed that one day I would need to get hearing aids.

Just not before I was at least 70.

Today at 66, ok, almost 67, I am officially “audiologically” enhanced, sporting my new Bluetooth enabled, virtually invisible hearing aids.

I can already tell, or rather hear, the difference. For example, when the refrigerator door is left ajar, my husband no longer needs to call down from upstairs, “Mol, the refrigerator door is open.” Never mind that I am standing right next to it, the tone is simply one that I can’t detect. And if hearing the refrigerator is challenging, that can’t bode well for my communication with living breathing human beings.

And here’s the thing.

For me, relationships are everything, and communication is the lifeblood of connection.

If the Pandemic has shown us anything, it is that our lives are interconnected, and whatever isolates us one from another puts us in danger of losing our connection to each other. We stop talking to each other, and more importantly, we stop listening to each other.

Getting over the stigma of hearing aids as a sign of being old was a choice. One that will allow me to continue to connect with others in meaningful ways, beginning with what is needed now more than ever. Listening.

Listening is always a choice, and it doesn’t have anything to do with hearing aids.

The Voice

There is a voice deep within that is ready to speak to us. It usually doesn’t try to talk over other voices, but waits in the wings until there is enough quiet space for it to speak up. When working with clients or in conversation with friends and family, it never ceases to amaze me how much internal guidance people can access when given the time, space, and a bit of prompting.

One good question can open up the flood gates. This is one of the greatest gifts we can cultivate and offer to one another. The gift of asking the nuanced question, and then being still.

It is so tempting, when silence hangs in the air, to fill in the space with a suggestion, further explanation, or sharing an example from our own life, and as well intentioned as we may be, in filling in the silence we may very well silence the inner voice of the other just when it was ready to come forth.

Photo by Magda Ehlers from Pexels

Sit Down and Rest

 “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning--the sixth day...By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all his work.”

~ Genesis 1:31 & 2:2

When I stepped into the atrium of the Glyptoteket (an art museum in Copenhagen, which, incidentally, is funded by the Carlsberg Foundation - as in the beer) the space took my breath away. There was something about it that made it impossible for me to do anything but sit down, and rest. 

We eventually continued our tour of the museum, lingering in front of sculptures from the ancient world. But that atrium space kept calling me back. To sit down, and rest. The air was soft, the light gentle, and the temperature warm and cool all at once. It felt like sitting in the midst of God’s newly created world. The world that was proclaimed good. Very good in fact. The one in which to remember to sit down, and rest.

In the Biblical story of creation, God brings the world into being, creating the heavens, the earth, and everything in them. As She looked over His work at the end of each day, She would proclaim it good. Very good in fact. And then...and then...on the seventh day, He does the unthinkable...She sits down (taking a little literary license here) and rests. 

We are all tiny little creators, bringing our own worlds into being. Like the creator, we work to create the world in which we live. But unlike the creator, we often forget to look out over our work and proclaim it good. Very good in fact. Also unlke the creator, we forget to sit down, (same license taken here) and rest. 

Sitting in that atrium, I was reminded of my desire to do good work. To work hard at doing work worthy of being called good. Very good in fact. The kind of work after which it feels good to sit down, and rest.

Very good work.

Followed by rest.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. World without end. Amen.

More Than A Thousand Words

Do you ever feel like this?

Yeah. Me too.