I. Titan and I
Saturn’s Moons aren’t any beads or trinkets; they are gems. Precious gems. No one cares if they’ve been polished, smoothed or carved to suit one’s likings for they are gems and they just are. They can be the way they are. They already are. Despite changes, they still are. And so they will be forever after as thus they are now, virtuous in their core, incorruptible. Moons in my universe, walking eternity, muses and saviours and dragons and fire: these all they are.
Titan and I had been taking part in a Buddhist retreat for a few days. It had been a very good experience so far. Different, sure. Good nonetheless.
We had gone vegan, we had no phone or signal to cheat, we woke up early and joined meditation successfully at times, we stared at the motionless lake and wandered -lots of wandering. And heard nothing at the passing place.
Our muscles ached a good ache, the type one gets when you fight your too laid-back mind. Silences were getting longer too.
Sharing a room with Titan and trying not to talk to one another… honestly, what was that about? I mean, what was in our minds to even dare think we would manage not to talk to one another I still don’t know. But we had to. We had to try. Fate had placed the Buddhist sheriff right next to our room and if we talked, she would know and call us out. We had already been called out for being Latinas-like noisy at Yoga practice. Not cool.
We got to the room after dinner and there we were writing notes and passing them to each other trying truly hard not to laugh just like ten-year olds. It reminded me of that time in which we had bought edible notes at the Spy Museum in DC and we would pass them around and eat them up before Titan could get a hold of them in the van with her family, my family too. I realized I still was just as terrible at trying to hold my laughter as I was when I was 10 and so was Titan.
And then we managed. Titan had nightmares and so did I. I read at the Atlantic Magazine that some people had called that process A Dark Night of the Soul, but ours wouldn’t stay in the dark because ours kicked ass. Like that. Not that it was easy, but we grabbed them by their hair and dragged them out.
Plus we had a massive burger and a pint of beer when we got to Edinburgh.
When I say Language, what comes to your mind? How would you describe what Language is to you?
Language is precious knowledge. It should be cherished. I’m fascinated by how it changes and how it has the power to limit you. Language and shame aren’t friends.
What does bilingualism/ multilingualism feel like? Can you tell us what languages you speak or know level regardless?
Multilingualism is mind broadening, not by knowledge but by perception. We’re all different and come from different places and, to see people speak other languages that I understand makes me understand difference in background and appreciate it. It makes me more curious.
I speak Portuguese, German, English and Spanish. I would like to also speak French and Japanese. It’s not too late. Well, maybe for Japanese.
Writing Canvas I: Try to describe what your ideal place -where you would live, the one you would share with people you love- would be like with as many words as you want.
A city home with a garden and too many plants, preferably by the seaside, that has a big bathtub and a big open kitchen.
Writing Canvas II: Recommend any type of art and tell us why -a poem, a novel, a film, a speech, music, someone’s work- anything you consider art.
Elizabeth Peyton’s portraits. I love them.
Given your experience as a woman and the role of women today, what would and/or what wouldn't you recommend to a 15-year-old woman? What words would you use to get your message across?
Follow your gut and move your body.
We, Lifenguage Women is an account of real Lifenguage events in which their protagonists also answer the same five questions to give the reader a very tiny glimpse of who they are -as there wouldn’t be enough room in the cloud for who they really are. They are an individual universe in themselves, they can't fit in clouds.
Picture: “Lifenguage Women at the Passing Place”.
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