Words are letters mashed together. Letters are from sounds we make. I am watching my son, Mac, develop the use of words. He can make soft sounds like Mamma and Daddee. The P and T sounds are unatainable for now. Mac is loud and makes lot of sounds. I love hearing him.
Pancake, my daughter, can use all types of words. She twists and turns them. She has mastery over the words, if not the meanings. She is very verbal. Currently, she is in love with potty words. I love her when she talks too.
In this blog, I use a lot of words. Editing has never been my strong suit. I have placed time limits on my posting though. Afterall, what writer couldn't spend several hours just writing and rewriting. I try to make the posts small. But, I just can't help myself sometimes.
I care for words. They care for me. Writing lets my brain decompress and my breathing get deeper. It also stimulates me, all this writing. And linking to other blogs is like a writer's group. I have been a part of two such groups. I was also the most prolific member. I will strive for quality over quantity here, but no promises.
In the end, words only get me so far. They can be a barrier even. Rationalizing and denial are devices born out of words.
Words can also divide me from others. Sometimes, this is on purpose. I talk dumb or smart to be excused. I am still learning how to tolerate others getting near me. And this is what this blog is all about. And exercise in increasing my tolerance.
Not tolerance in the politically correct way. But basic tolerance of letting others hear me and know me. This is my ultimate challenge. To be honest here, with my words. Letting all my dangling participles just dangle. Letting my broken english stay broken. Tolerating my words and what is behind them. Thus, what is in here, is really me. I am Mrs. Hall.
When I read something that fires me up, I pause and bird dog it. Especially if it makes me angry or hateful. These emotions that are speaking for things I have long since buried. But, the things are buried alive, just waiting to jostle my insides, waiting to be heard. And healed. And off I go to yoga. Words can't find me there. But the real stuff can.
Yet I write about yoga. I am very careful about this. In the past, I have used my verbal gymnastics to distance myself from my feelings. The things I feel in yoga are real and important. I don't want to shush them if I speak them outloud. I want to just feel them. And be alright. It sucks sometimes though. If you bury things, the tend to rot and get meatier. Nobody likes Zombies. They're smelly.
In the end, I want these words to serve a purpose beyond myself. For those of you reading, and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! Even if you clicked to check out the hot babe in my banner and profile. Thank you for reading!
I put positive energies into these words. I hope you come away the same.