Frenching

Today, I posed a question to myself. Though, I didn’t actually have words to the question until after I answered it. You see, I was looking at myself in the mirror, about to go downstairs to go on an afternoon walk (since I still can’t run after my accident three weeks ago). In my head was French and the excitement of living in France as an adult – something I have only dreamt of doing, but have tasted as a student – due to this Netflix show called Emily In Paris.

I was somewhat lonesome today, and wanted a movie or series to keep me company while I cooked for a long while. I somehow ended up with Emily In Paris, and fell in love. We had a full and satisfying relationship all day long today (think Jim Gaffigan on Netflix shows being like dating), and I was taking an unwanted but necessary break to go on my walk (got to get those hundred miles in somehow). And so, I’m looking in the mirror, French and Frenchmen and France and chocolatines in my head. And I somehow answer this unsaid question aloud, in French.

I say first, before seeing myself in the mirror, “Bah ouais. Je ne parle pas le français comme langue maternelle. Ce n’est pas ma langue maternelle. Mais j’adore le parler….”

Pourquoi ? someone asks in my head.

“Parce que quand je parle le français…, je me sens…,” and I now look directly at myself in this Masaie mirror on the wall, halted just before the first step downward. “Je me sens… un peu sexy…,” and I smile as I admit it, adding raised eyebrow as and a head tilt at the second feeling, “tellement à l’aise… et,” and this last is he hardest to admit, “comme quelqu’un qui en vaut l’envie. Je veut dire, quelqu’un qui mérite être envié…,” and I look at myself with these words having been said aloud, experiencing the fullness of their truth, and somewhat being that person envying his girl in the mirror – woman in the mirror – and I smile, fully content in that moment, give one final glance to the freckles around my nose, and head down the stairs and out the front door for a hearty walk in the chilly late afternoon air, under the overcast, Fall sky.

As I began my walk, I realized that my unsaid question – it felt a bit like playing Jeopardy, I suppose 😛 – was, “Why learn a foreign language?”

I contemplated this on my walk, and even recorded myself for a bit, just to see what it was like as a means of keeping track of my thoughts. (It was cool, but I’m not sure it is my style for sharing those thoughts with others.) I repeated my earlier statements on speaking French, but added the question to the beginning, and continued my statements with a further idea: When I speak English, these are not the ways that I feel. By speaking French, I have discovered and continue to discover things within myself that I previously had not known. By speaking a language different from my native language, I get to experience myself and life in a new way. And that is possibly the best and most valuable part of speaking a different language.

And, to be clear, this is not due simply to saying words in a foreign tongue. It is by having learned the language, which means experiencing its people and culture, as well as its use, that I have gained access to these formerly-foreign parts of myself. It is the Frenchness within me that I have learned and found throughout the process of learning to speak French, the language. I always support immersion as a necessary part of learning a language, because the language and culture not only go hand in hand, but cannot be separated from one another and still remain true to who and what they are.

So, why learn a foreign language? To discover how life and you are better than you ever imagined. 😉

Yeah 🙂

P.S. For those who do not know French and have not already stuck that paragraph into Google Translate, what I had said roughly translates in English to, “Well, yeah. I don’t speak French like a native speaker. I’m not a native speaker of French. But I love speaking it. Why? Because, when I speak French, I feel… I feel… a bit sexy…, entirely at ease…, and that I am someone worth envying.”

Post-a-day 2020

Dreaming of being Muslim

Have you ever wanted to be a different religion than you currently are?  I don’t mean like converting.  I mean it in the sense of having a different life; perhaps even literally being born into a different family and culture, such that your whole belief system is completely different from what it is now.  Well, anyway, I have (which, I suppose, was already rather obvious, seeing as I’ve brought it up and all…).

Growing up, and even still nowadays, I found myself occasionally longing to be a member of a culture similar to that of Islam’s culture.  I realize there are many concerns that have arisen in recent history regarding the religion.  However, that is not the point here.  The point is their beautiful dedication to their religion.

Whenever I pass the Prayer & Meditation Room in hospitals and comparable establishments, known to be filled with people of varying cultures and belief systems, I usually double back and go inside the room.  When inside, I see the prayer books, and sometimes even the mats for prayer and the compass-perfect layout of the room (for those who pray in a certain direction), and I feel a sort of longing.  From something deep inside, I feel an attachment to these strong religious practices.

Praying so many times a day, at certain times of day, using specific prayers and motions…, you really have to plan ahead in your day.  We have a soccer tournament today, so we’ll take a break between these games and these games… do you have the mats?  Just a normal Saturday, right?  Your religion ends up on the forefront of your mind from the moment you wake up, to the last prayer before sleep.  (Plus, with the Hijab for a woman, it is even more prevalent in one’s day. (Actually, I regularly wear a head covering for yoga, and sometimes even just life, and I wish it were more accepted, such that I could really wear one whenever I wanted.))

Perhaps it is simply that the practicers of Islam seem to have such extreme dedication, that it is as though they ‘have it all together’ or something.   That I experience their dedication as a sort of clarity and true love in their lives…, and I want that clarity and love in my life, too.  Perhaps it is that it just seems so special to me, their religious practices, and I therefore want to be part of the something special.  I think it is just that I find beauty in it all – the practice, the dedication, the thought-out-ness of implementing it in life -, and I want that beauty.  I want beauty to abound in my life, and this is just one other way that I could bring beauty into my life…

I know there is so much more I could say, and so many better ways in which I could say what I’ve already said (although it is all writing, as opposed to actual speaking), but I think that up there gives a somewhat accurate portrayal of my thoughts and sentiment on the matter… somewhat.  ;P

I'm part of Post A Day 2016