Come Here......

Sometimes, I wonder what life would be like without all of our senses?  Or what would life be like with only a few?  Each is a gift and I can't imagine not having them all.  But if I HAD to give one thing up, it would be talking.  We abuse our speech.  

Sometimes, oftentimes I believe we are flippant with our words. We forget the power we hold within us; the power of the tongue  our flippancy careless jib jabs all in our paths, leaving behind a fusilage of wounded souls.   Because of this, Sometimes…. I wish there were no such thing as spoken words.  What if we could only communicate with the other four senses.  What if we didn’t have spoken sounds or a written gutteral that carries meaning?  What if there was no alphabet we purposefully strung together to communicate meaning?  What if?

The structure in a simple utterance inspires and invokes joy.  Or, it invokes shame, insecurity, and destruction.  Add to the structures punctuation, adjectives, and tone and there is a weapon of mass destruction waiting to launch. 

Tone colors the word with personality, breathing  life and attitude behind  it. “How are you today?” is asked, and the responder’s heart is revealed, not in the one word answered, but in the tone behind it.  Look in their eyes.  Observe their body language behind the delivery.  Communication at its finest lies within the tone.  “Good” is usually the one word response.”  Put a feeling and tone behind that spoken word, and let the interpretations ensue.  This makes the spoken language beautiful and hideous. 

Another example.  “Come here” flavored with anger, impatience, or even sarcasm births shame, fear, even defensiveness.  I mean, If I hear the words “come here..(you messed up big time, and I am gonna let you have it) that is not exactly the same “come here” seasoned with the tenderness when a lover takes you by the hand pulling you in close for an embrace.  The warmth of that “come here” draws me in beckoning intimacy, acceptance, and life.  Tone travels through the filter of the listener’s soul assembling emotion.    “Come here… (I have a secret to share),” welcomes warmth and trust.

Oh, how often we flippantly fling our words around, seasoning them with tones that foster damage.  Reflect.  What words have been spoken into you that stuck? 

What voices have you entertained?  Words delivered in anger, shame, manipulation, coupled with the mixture of self invoked failure….. surely is a destructive concoction., and add to this the “Come here” of a failed anything, and there is much work. 

One sylabell at a time…. Not right away, not immediately… slowly, systematically, and achingly drawn out…. One arrow at a time….A, B, C, D, E, F…BAM, you die, Because when your soul diseases, you stop living.  All you need is a kindness, tenderness, a gaze.  Perhaps A loving touch, a “come here” and with each pressing of the metaphorical button, the chasm deepens between a “come here,” and “I don’t know you.”   Further still, the “come here” dream fades into a whipsy fog and dissipates into thin air. 

So my pondering leads me to ask the question….  Why do we need to speak so much to communicate?  Words so often interfere!  Oh how lovely and beautiful it would be to simply convey tone, emotion, in silence, in a gaze, in a touch.  At times,   a world of no verbal pratter back and forth is my heaven.   Pratter consumes the senses, causing static.  When we walk outside and take note of the climate, we say, “wow, it’s a beautiful day?”  The empty vocal gutturals of “it’s a beautiful day.”  Are spoken and we move on to our next thought, chore, errand.   What does that even mean? 

I want to stop and bask in the beauty of the day, if even for a brief moment.  My senses awakened at the beaty and I marvel in the yellow sunbeam warmth that hits my skin.  The branches are bare, and the air crisp, but the yellow ignites warmth and gratitude in my heart.  In my moment of basking in the beauty, the smell of fireplaces burning all around stimulate peaceful memories of  days gone by, practically sitting in the fireplace!  Such golden precious memories of that fireplace hearth, and my treasured spot beside it.  And what do I hear?  The wind.  I hear the wind singing her song of welcome into the day.  She welcomes me softly, gently in song, but lets me know she is there with her biting crisp chill blowing strait to my bones.  How can “ it’s a beautiful day” be truly conveyed in mere abc’s.   “Come here, Oh beautiful day… Come here”  Let me take you up in my embrace and hold you close to my beating heart.  “come here, my love and let me hold you, enjoy you, gaze upon your beauty….”  “Come here…….”