I am learning Arabic in French. I am far from comfortable in French yet, so if I known that this course was in French when I registered I would have likely not. However, having just attended my first class, I am fatigued much in the same way I am when I push myself during a long run. I know it will hurt, I know I it be tough but I know once the pain resides I am that much stronger for it in both form and endurance.
The language in my life of late has been pushed much in the same way. My lexicon internally and externally has had its verbiage audited for dialogues destructive and words now out of date on account of their deprecating nature. Their removal has led to a sublime confidence in both my intentions and actions. Replaced by phrases full of will, my words now speak for me and not against me. Depending on the context and with whom, some are spoken with concrete certainty and others with the fragility of new. Either way they are spoken. The more they continue to be spoken they become like that of the wearing-in of a splinted shin, and my own endurance for myself abounds.
This exercise that has been the last few introspective months have left me with a profound understanding of the value of words if used positively and ultimately the cost for those corrosive. I wonder if there was a cost for everything spoken, a price point for prose, would society still with war and consumerism distract from all those things left unsaid; inclusion, respect, love. We learn big words for diseases, fun words for medications, bad words for difference, mean words from fear, and speak all of them as if they are wholesale. Maybe I am a naïve born again optimist but I honestly believe that commerce of conversation is needed. The rate of return would forbid verbal garbage.
Maybe I am not sure exactly what I am saying; maybe my words are not clear. Until they are I will continue learning Arabic in French.
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