Lost in Translation

Communication

The gift of knowing and being known.

Making use of a resource of words, phrases, and expression to express thoughts, feelings, and ideas to create a world between individuals.

There is nothing quite like the unparalleled frustration of being misunderstood.

At the center of the most tragic love stories is a simple misunderstanding.
The meaning of word or action perceived as something else.
And suddenly everything is seen through the lens of a misunderstood truth, to the point of the destruction of a friendship, of love and possibility.

How many of us lay victim to such a tragedy...?

To find oneself in a land where your native tongue means little creates a new world of being unknown.

Your skill for communicating is weakened and made meaningless.

Suddenly words are no longer adequate and meaning is lost in translation.

Being misunderstood has never been so understood.

To write these words and know that for some in my new world,
these mean very little, if not, nothing at all.
They cannot make sense of the depth of which I try and bring forth with words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mind reaching for a new way of making sense of all that is around.
To discover a way in which communication may be bridged.

Will my mind work with me towards being able to understand?
Or will my mind get in the way by refusing to learn, to perceive and to recognize the sounds I hear, not as sounds, but as words?

That I may make sense of all the life that is flowing around me, rather than feel lost in translation, unknowing and unknown...

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Changing Leaves

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An Open Letter to the Bride To Be...

Dearest Katie, I still remember when you were a little girl. If I came to say hello to you at recess, you would always greet me with a running hug. You were my little cousin. You wanted so badly to be our friend, but the years between us created a separation. What a privilege to be a volunteer youth leader when you started at Youth group. I watched you dream, aspire and achieve. You discovered your gifts, talents and things that excited your heart. Those were the years I saw you transform from a little girl into a beautiful young lady. A young lady who I grew to admire. Whose maturity, integrity, wisdom, love and generosity were well beyond her years. Eventually the chasm between us in age became less important and the shift happened. You went from ‘my little cousin’ to my friend. Friend. We dreamed. We laughed. We drove cars through the country roads and explored Ontario. You humoured my love for all things Jane Austen, which became a slow trickle that built a well ...

simply timeless

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