Spending Wednesdays: Begin again. . .

Monday, October 8, 2012

Begin again. . .

It's been a while since I've posted anything here. I wish I could say it was because I was busy with work, writing or traveling - anything except was was: I couldn't remember my username or email account used when I created this site!

Is that lame or what?

It's lame, but just as well because I need to change the direction of this blog. Really, it had no direction, so I need to give it direction. When I started Spending Wednesdays, I was entirely new to blogs, social media and all that other good stuff. This was a scary experiment - not sure if I had anything to say, and if I did have something to say, how much of it should I tell. Would anyone care?

Now, a bit more seasoned (heavy on the 'a bit'), I have a better idea of how I want to use this space. I toyed with the idea of removing all my earlier posts, but decided for the moment to leave them alone for now: I need a visual reminder of why god created the period and short sentences - and why focus is a good thing even in a in a blog. (Maybe especially in a blog!)

I'm still not sure if anyone cares, but now that I found my Wednesday spot again, I'll take a cue from May Sarton and begin here . . .

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Dichos of the Week, or Month or so...

December 2008:
Como eres, era. Como soy, seras

Literally: As you are, I was. As I am, you shall be.

This dicho calls in the wisdom, experience or age of the speaker of the dicho (similar in their universal truth to proverb), and is best illustrated by a story.

When I was young, stupid and cocky, I challenged or mocked something my mom did (since I was all of 14 and knew everything). She told me "Como eres, era. Como soy, seras." I was often frustrated with her use of dichos because I didn't always understand them, or how they applied to the situation at hand. I remember being puzzled by this one, and asked her to explain it. By way of explanation, she told me this story:

One day, in her her pueblo of La Barca, Jalisco, in the the mid 1930's, she and a childhood friend, a young boy, the school prankster and trouble maker, were running, anxious to get to the Plaza - they were late in getting out of church and they didn't want to miss a thing.

It was Sunday, and as in most pueblo's in Mexico, especially in her day, gathering at the Plaza was the big Sunday thing to do - everyone was there. On their way, cutting through the narrow sidewalks, they came upon an old man, walking slowly on his way somewhere, on the same side of the sidewalk. His pace forced them to slow down. Frustrated and impatient, the young boy began mocking the old man for not moving fast enough, for being old and frail "un obstaculo" with the audacity to keep them from getting to the Plaza.

Instead of getting angry, the old man stopped, calmly turned to the young boy, looked him firmly in the eyes and said "Como eres, era. Como soy seras." Nothing more.

This stopped the boy cold. The sting of the words he'd just flung at the old man had been turned against him. The shame for what he had just done was obvious. He recognized the warning the old man had just given him: careful, you'll be an old man one day - you will be me, behave accordingly. The young boy politely asked the old man's "Permiso" to get around him, which the old man gladly gave. The rest of the walk to the Plaza was quiet. My mom told me that her friend changed that day; he matured.

That experience stayed with my mom forever. She learned the power of words. She could never forget the immediate shift in attitude, both in the old man, and her friend. She told me it was one of the wisest things she ever heard, and it shaped how she went through life.

My mom's story stayed with me, shaped how I view, gave me a different way to understand the law of consequences, natural laws - and it gave me a love of dichos and their many uses.

This dicho is one of my favorites.

I have not been able to find English versions, similar in impact and applications, but here are some contemporary equivilants, or near equivilants - though much less poetic:

Been there, done that; Reap what you sow; I wasn't born yesterday; I've been around the block a few times; Stop and smell the roses; What youth is used to, age remembers.

November 2008:
De medico, musico, poeta, y loco, todos tenemos un poco

Literally: Of doctor, musician, poet and madman, we all have a little.

This dicho or Spanish saying, refers to the healer, poet, musician and madman that lives within each of us. We are all, whether we admit it or not, at any given moment, renaissance men and women.

Or, maybe we're just jacks of all trades, master of none?

Spending Wednesdays

Monday, October 8, 2012

Begin again. . .

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