There is something deep inside of me that is loosened by alcohol. I am not sure if it is a feeling of inadequacy, shyness, or reluctance, but I recognise that if I have a glass or two of wine, and I am near my computer- I am compelled to write my thoughts down.
Since I began blogging last year (July 2011) I have wanted to record and write so many things… It started out as a kind of living diary for me and for my already grown up children… I wanted them to somehow ‘see’ the person that was inside their mother….
I wanted them to separate the familiar ‘mammy’ that they knew and grew up with, from the woman that I was before they were born and who also lived a parallel life while they were children.
My ramblings were not intended for them to scrutinise in the ‘here and now’- they were for after I was gone.
This was the shyness, or the reluctance that stopped me from publically posting my blog for such a long time. I was afraid of being questioned, afraid of being ridiculed, afraid of being judged.
Becoming a blogger in the past year, I have learnt that writing personal stories, thoughts and histories, and sharing them amongst friends and family has actually been one of the most liberating experiences of my life.
It can sometimes be difficult to articulate fears and inexperience, to flounder in the face of adversity, and in front of people who expect that you will always perform to your optimum.
Blogging has allowed me to share how unsteady I have felt in my past, and also how I recognise that my future is not mapped out and assured.
I began writing this blog as a life diary for my children so that they could somehow know me after I was gone, but in writing it, I am getting to know myself more so than I ever thought possible by simply recounting my life and recording it.
Is this Destinydelivered?
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I have thousands of words dressed up in a carnival of colour regularly riding the carousel of my mind…. Like James Joyce writing Ulysses I live in a constant stream of consciousness. There are a myriad of thoughts, actions, voices, and images that surround me in every minute of every day although I don’t record or write them as they happen.
I have no aspiration or talent to be a writer and I accept this and can smile about it. I am much more mundane. I like being articulate when saying what I want to say and I have no great desire to make it to the best seller list. I generally just want to be understood. I want to verbally connect in the best way that I can.
Language is the universal way that we communicate and we all do it differently. I recognise this and I am a lover of listening to the spoken word as much as I love writing it. Language is powerful and how we articulate and use it can sadly set us apart.
I only have to listen to the voice of a news reader and compare it to a voice in my local community. Somehow the passion and spirit of a community speaker can be lost when their words are taken, relayed or broadcasted. By the time the message is conveyed through mainstream media these words have been altered and may not reflect the feeling of the original speaker. Passion becomes diluted, and voices and words are mixed and broken up into sound bites that are acceptable. This is all so wrong. I believe that in this way language has been sabotaged. Sometimes if you can’t be fluent and say what you have to in three minutes, you don’t get a shot.
For me, how we speak and communicate defines the narrative of our lives. Our memory bank of words is personally relevant to each and every one of us and is a reflection of how we have arrived where we are through our lived experiences, our families, our education and the people that we associate with. We listen and we mimic. We read and hear words all the time and we store them. We make them our own and use them distinctively. Everyone has the right to speak, to engage, to converse. To be heard and to be listened to regardless of how incoherent mixed up or inarticulate they are.
I communicate though my language. I use my own stored words. Most of them are like old friends, familiar and comforting. But I sometimes dip into my suitcase of words to root out the unexpected, to explain or to describe something that needs stretching out like elastic. For me, embellishing a word is my way of creating something beautiful in a sentence in the same way that an artist may add extra colour to a work in progress. If I strip the sentence back to its basic form it will still be understood, but it is missing the beauty and colour that I believe language contains.
Through my education and my lifetime love of words I am now more articulate in my life that I have ever been. I was that person who’s passionate voice was unheard because I wasn’t fluent or eloquent enough but not anymore. I can now say what I want to, but I add the colour and texture that language produces. This can make me sound like a right windbag sometimes, but as long as the sentence flows beautifully, sounds good to my ears and is clearly understood then I am ok with that 🙂
Destiny can be about looking at the things we take for granted and viewing them in a new light.
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My close friends are jewels, full of colour, joy and happiness. They are like emeralds, rubies, sapphires and diamonds. Precious gems that cascade through my life with a brilliance, beauty and special individual quality that makes each and every one of them exceptional. They are like a treasure trove that lift me up and add sparkle when I need it, and I am never disappointed by the quality that they bring to my life.
Destiny can be like being a pirate and finding that special pearl.
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