It's funny how sometimes we don't really understand what it is we may have been doing until ten years have passed and we are sharing it in passing with a bunch of people.

So humbling.

Here's to our tender humanness, and to the creative ways we devise to make ourselves push forward, even when we forget that we are indeed, the main attraction.

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So many languages and with that knowing comes the knowing that no matter what, I will never speak them all. Arabic. Arabic kinda makes my stomach do happy things, especially in songs. So does Hebrew. With a little focus I could speak fluent Italian and Spanish fairly quickly, and that would be nice. And that would still leave many, many languages out of reach. Meaning, many many people I will never be able to talk with, but more specifically: many more ways in which I will not know myself.

I’ll explain.

When I speak French, my heart and my brain connect with a Frenchness, a way of being, of thinking, of expressing myself. No matter how much I fight it, a whiff of cynicism (we call it humor) sometimes creeps in. I shrug more often,  while a layer of superficiality automatically gets scrubbed off, somehow leaving things more substantial. Go figure.

When I speak Italian, everything is more beautiful and more decorative. At the edges of words hang little curlicues and shiny dots. I feel prettier, I feel sexier and I feel as though nothing could ever go terribly wrong.

When I speak Spanish, I am both 5 years old and a little more awake. The joy level goes up right away, no matter whether I am buying avocados or negotiating a taxi. I feel more alive and in some way, authentic.

And then there is English. This is the easiest one for me to close my eyes and let the words out in a specific way, even though it might hold the least specific vocabulary. It is the language of my grown up years and it is as comfortable as a pair of jeans, even though I still miss a button once in a while.

All this to say, there are many languages and we show up differently with each of them.

And here is an important point: often, while traveling, the funnest part of all is to share language, to go from one to the other depending on whom it is we are talking with. In a way, they are contagious.

Hang on to that thought.

Which brings me to this: The Other Languages. The languages that are just as varied, just as rich, just as powerful -  but not as obvious - as English, Arabic, Finnish or Portuguese. We speak them, we can go from on to another, we can learn them and the more we practice them, the better we get at speaking them.

These Other Languages include Kindness, Empathy, Anger, Guilt, Jealousy, Negativity, Aloofness, Tenderness, Compassion, Levity and more.

At any given time, you and I are speaking one of these.
At any given time, someone is speaking one of these to us.

The Other Languages usually come with no accent, a simple grammar and a varied vocabulary. They inform, they threaten, they cajole, they soothe, they play … they are languages.

Just like the “regular languages,” the Other Languages are contagious.

This means that just as if you talked with me in French I would most likely answer to you in French without thinking about it much, it is very, very easy to match someone’s other Language without skipping a beat.

For instance: If you walk over to me and talk to me in Agressivity, it is going to be natural for me to adjust my body, my heart rate and my words to match your Language and respond to you in Agressivity. When that happens, the results are much less fun than when we order gelato together in Italian.

In that space between the time when I hear your Other Language and I respond is the opportunity for something I call Language Sovereignty.

Language Sovereignty is not easy and in the last couple of days, I have been dancing with it, sensing plenty of opportunities to practice it in the days to come, also.

Boy it’s hard. Harder than Spanish grammar. Harder than those darn English prepositions that have been getting me in trouble for 4 decades and maybe even harder than remembering how to say popcorn in Farsi.

Why is it so hard? I think mainly because we forget that we have a choice.

But we do.
And did I mention it was hard?
And, as a friend reminded me lately: we can do hard things; especially when they are worth it. 

Learning Language Sovereignty is worth it.

Why is Learning Language Sovereignty worth it?

• Because by inviting us to speak the Language of our choice, by simply taking the time to ask ourselves what that Language is at any given time,  we are re-directed back to our Authentic self.
  
  
• Because only from our Authentic self can we have true conversations = true relationships.
  
  
• Because when we choose the Language we use, we do not abandon ourselves, which is the biggest betrayal of all, and the most painful.

How do we us Language Sovereignty?

• First of all, we observe. In what Language am I being addressed, right now? Just a question, an observation. If possible, we name that Language.
  
  
• Next, we remember that we have a choice. This is kind of the opposite of “when in Rome…”
  
  
• Then, we check in with ourselves - which is easier to do when there is time to ponder, journal, take a walk or eat a little chocolate than when we don’t - and see if this Language, while we may be fully fluent in it, is what feels best to us at this time. When deciding “what is best for us,” it is important to ask our soul / heart to answer, and to ask for our ego to please take a quick nap.
  
  
• If we choose to use a different Language, we must name it. Naming it defines it and gives us the best odd of not slipping.
  
  
• Finally, we move slowly. Intentionally. We stay focused on our heart (physically) while we speak. For me, closing my eyes helps me a lot. We create a sanctuary around ourselves and our energy. We may choose to use less words, too.

We take time outs if we need them.

The trick is to hear the other person, really hear them, while not catching a piggy back ride on their Language. Remembering that they make sense to them, that their choice of Language is just as valid as ours, too. And that it’s theirs.

Like I said, it’s not easy.

Today I invite you to consider practicing Language Sovereignty next time the local Language does not feel right for you. I invite you to remember that you have a choice. That your mouth is yours and yours only and that only by using the Language of your choice will you be able to share your truth with yourself, another person and the world.

Then, I invite you to give yourself a big, big hug for being so brave and strong and real.

Late Sunday night just a couple of weeks ago, my daughter calls and tells me that she has something big to share with me. She then hesitates and prefaces whatever is to come with: “I am going to need you to trust that I know what I am doing.”

I am pretty sure she has told me these exact words on the phone before, usually followed with the news of something which would not have been my first - or tenth - choice.

How different can this be?

When she shares with me that she has gotten married, I am temporarily unable to remember how to speak. I know I can because I do it a lot, but for a few long seconds my brain is refusing to let my mouth have a turn.

Instead, I am suddenly aware that there are three of me holding the phone, which feels all sorts of both weird and intensely present.

While my mouth catches up to my brain, I am suddenly my mother.

My mother who incidentally might have been doing that funny thing she used to do with her legs when she laughed so hard she thought she might pee.  If she was indeed watching me from somewhere up above, there is no doubt she was loving this special family moment. So, yes - I am suddenly my mother. My mother who 31 years ago received the same phone call from me. I think I had started mine with: “Hey mom, remember that sailor I told you about?” To which she answered that no, she did not remember me telling her about any sailor - and what about him?  This made sense because really, I probably had not had time to tell her about the sailor, having only known him a very (very) short time. The conversation progressed painstakingly from there and I announced that well … I had married him the night before. I remember her sharing the news with my dad while I was still on the phone. This was the first time that I had experienced silence as an actual tactile thing. She later told me that I broke his heart with that one call.

At the same time, I am my daughter.

When I made my call, I was a couple of years younger than she, and drunk with the fullness of having made a huge life decision on my own. Part rebellion, part overinflated self-confidence, I never mentioned that I had woken up that morning suggesting an annulment. This was about me, about a new us that I knew little about, and no part of me was oriented towards my parents’ feelings nor imagining that this could concern them a whole lot.

Ha.

And then, I was me.

Me who was trying to catch pieces of words and thoughts to make them play nicely with each other. Me who wants to champion my kids always and foremost and me whose heart (or was it my ego?) was developing a little purple bruise at not having been included in the event.  Finally me who really, was in shock. At first glance this would qualify as one of these “not my first choice” ideas. Thank god life sometimes gives up opportunities for many glances and this is one of these times.

My voice came back, we talked a bit longer and then she was gone. All three characters suddenly melded tidily into one woman who looked a lot like me.

A few days later, I found myself experiencing this “Three of Me” thing again. Talking with a young and cherished member of my team, for a moment I felt one part life coach, one part mom and one part business owner. They all had different things to say.

It’s weird, this ability (is that what it is??) to see things from a couple of different people’s eyeballs and hearts at the same time.  It’s inconvenient. It’s messy and it makes things much less black and white. It can be painful, too. Whether my mom was laughing from wherever she is now or not, I welcome the sobering opportunity to glimpse at the impact my decision may have had on her life, three decades ago. I also welcome a bit of re-living the thrill of eloping. Finally I welcome the invitation to show up at my most loving, most humble version of myself as my daughter’s mom.

Life ain’t for sissies and living it wide awake tends to add an extra bit of brightness to the flavors.

Today, I invite you to pay attention to however many of you decide to show up uninvited to the big moments of your life. And to consider making them all a little place at the table, no matter how noisy it might get in there. Then to delight at the richness of it all.

Finally, I invite all of us to consider that whenever big stuff shows up our way, the kind of big stuff where our opinions like to make themselves known, Love is probably the best Essence to Declare and partner with.