Found In Translation

I am not a poet.

Generally, I’ve envied those who are able to capture such depth of Truth with so few, carefully chosen, pristinely placed words.  Evoking sensory memories so strong it’s as if we are seeing, smelling, tasting, hearing, touching, absolutely experiencing a thing.

A poet…I am not.

But a story-teller?  I accept that title.

A teacher? Assuredly, and I think a damn good one.

A weaver of tales taken from life then intentionally embellished to highlight the most salient insights, details, and emotions?  Well, I hope.

See, I don’t only want to tell you truth as facts.  I want to communicate, as precisely and entertainingly as possible, truth as experience.

On a related note, I take close-up photographs of the world around me using my phone.  I generally call these collections, “Along the way.”  The camera is very good, but no camera, not even the most exquisitely hand-made optics connected to a fine-tuned mechanical masterpiece in the hands of a master developer can capture the experience of taking in, with one’s eyes, an actual bit of beauty.

So…I tweak the saturation, the contrast, perhaps the brightness, chop off a little bit here and enhance a little bit there.  Why?  So you have the thing…not as the device recorded it and certainly NOT as my nervous system processed it, but as close as I can manage to make the thing, 1. appear as it appeared to me, and 2. feel as it felt to me, in the moment.

Here are a few from today:

 

I want you, cognitively and emotionally, to experience what I experienced.

In photos, podcasts, essays, and stories.

I run the experience through whatever filters and enhancers are at my disposal and I give you…my truth.

When you read a quoted person, I want you to “hear” a voice.

When you process a description, I want you to “see” a thing.

When you take in a paragraph, I want you to almost experience what I experienced.

I want you to FEEL something.

I like to think that an interested consumer (that’s you) of my output experiences very similar brain activity to MY brain activity while I’m both experiencing the thing and then preparing it for your eyes, ears, and/or fingers.  This means I need to be quite good at translating the experience.

Maybe that’s what I fancy myself.  What I strive to be.

A translator…of insight, of wonder, of emotion, and when I’m at my very best, of transcendental everyday human experience.

No, I’m not a poet.

I’m not a lot of things I previously envisioned for myself.

But maybe it’s time to let go of my insecurities, my attachments to what I’m not and what I might become…and just be what I am.

Thanks for hanging out.

I hope you felt something positive, as I did.

-G

2 thoughts on “Found In Translation”

  1. Okay, as a tangential commentary… For a person who works with and strives to educate about autism as a spectrum disorder, you definitely have a tendency to see things as digital, particularly yourself. You “are” or “are not”. That’s very ones and zeros of you. How about, you are a poet but less so than a translator (clearly not mutually exclusive)? You may wish you were a better poet or artist or athlete or friend or carpenter or editor or whatever, but it doesn’t mean as a novice with low skills that you aren’t “X”. It just probably means you’re not great or as good as you wish.

    1. Honest to universe, Ralph Wiggumn, it’s as if you’re in my head sometimes…and when you’re not you are generally offering me solid insights.

      The former, right now, is mildly disconcerting; and the latter, entirely appreciated.

      For all of the spectrum, “shades of grey,” and dimmer vs toggle switch philosophical underpinnings to which I adhere in my interactions with most other people; I am disappointingly digital (I love that analogy, thanks. I’ll likely borrow it.) in my thoughts re: myself.

      Why the contrast?

      It’s like…I have to be perfect or I’m a failure (digital) and nobody else on the planet is broken or needing to be fixed because each human being is perfectly whatever/whomever they are and yadda yadda yadda.

      Nobody…except me.

      I’m the exception to my rule, which is a bit of a mind fuck.

      I want to explore this. Thanks for feeling comfortable enough to share the insight.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *