Some lessons are easy for me to learn. Some others seem to take a lifetime. My language is one such thing. The three languages I learned to understand and somewhat speak were lessons that went on for several years. It was an effort that left me stumbling through two of them. Over decades, I developed a true fluency in only one.
That one language is now punctuated by nuance I never expected to learn. To begin, my language now relies on knowing when not to speak, a lesson it has taken me a lifetime to learn. My familiar, spoken language sometimes serves me best when not spoken at all. When all I do is listen. It has taken a long time to learn to speak silence.
I now use language in a pattern not taught me when I was young. I remember it was years before I learned to put words in an orderly sometimes artful fashion. I wrote carefully constructed poetry as a teenager. My written language followed rhythms and patterns of sound. It was constrained by the role of rhyme most of the time. This was a learned skill that stayed with me and still emerged when I as an adult parent wrote verse that were clues in games for my two kids. It is part of how I almost habitually construct prose.
Throughout much of my adult life, I learned to follow the laws of english that was correctly spoken. The order of my words, noting which tense of verbs to use, what order to impose on words one before one another, all became second nature to me, but it took time. Knowing when to say “I” or “me” became part of how I spoke. Even more important, how I used language shaped the way I thought.
My learned patterns of language have also filtered the words of others. They signal to me that those who do not speak as I not only use a different language pattern but also think in a way unlike me. I often need to pause and sort that out. I have learned to speak and to think in a way different from them.
My lessons of language have become a well-worn street that after many years now allows my inner self to be expressed fully and with ease. My language has become a close ally of my heart, and I seem to have learned a lesson of honest and genuine speech. It has become a learned habit, but it has taken most of my life to trust this learning.
I realize that I often do not speak clearly and in a manner that others can understand. However, the words habitually carry the heart-warmed nature of honesty. Learning to speak and write with trust and heart has been a lifelong learning. I no longer feel that my words need to be carefully chosen. I trust myself more to speak freely, knowing the words will arise naturally and reflect who I truly am.
I still struggle to learn the names of places and people. Names of locations like Catalhoyuk and Cahokia have eluded me for weeks. I wonder if I will ever become intimately connected to them as I am to the names of friends.
However, there are other lessons of language that are now a stable and intimate part of me. There are well-worn lessons that go beyond new names, grammar and correct sounds. It has taken a lifetime to learn the deeper aspects of my own personal language so that I can be fluent and be able to trust myself to speak in a comfortable manner. It has taken a lifetime to learn how to naturally speak a language that is honest, genuine and true.