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Tuesday, April 1, 2014

A Word about #Words. By John von Daler

                 Would you think it strange for me to assert that one cannot always speak to people with words? Not words that really mean anything, at any rate. Some people do not communicate or understand via words, so when you try to say something to them they only eye you suspiciously:

                I got up from the computer in my office and went into our bedroom to stretch myself at the window. Years of violin playing have taught me that I have to keep opposites equal: too much left side and not enough right side is bad, just as too much sitting needs to be rectified by some bending in the reverse. So I stood at the window doing slanted push-ups with my hands on the sill and my legs stretched out behind.                 

                Standing at the window had always been a pastime of mine during my breaks. Across the street there was a school for children with Down syndrome. I used to watch them play; they were always so sweet with each other and rarely cried. A kind of pleasant, bubbly sound rose from their playground.
                Today their recess did not fit mine. Everything was quiet at the school. But at a neighboring building I noticed some young boys (not from the school!), thirteen or fourteen years-old, nonchalantly casing the basement windows. They would wander by taking sidelong glances and then they would sit down on a stoop on the opposite side of the street and talk. It was fairly obvious that they were thinking about breaking in, our street being almost deserted at this moment. But it is hard to call the police and say, Hey, someone looks like they might want to break into the building across the street.
                I do not know what got a hold of me, but I ran out our door and down the stairs to the street and sauntered over to the biggest of them. He was about fourteen, taller them me and heavy set. I approached him, looked him in the eye and said, "Don't start your life off by making a big mistake. Don't ruin your future by doing something stupid now."
                I should probably not have used words to communicate with him. He looked like I had just had implied that men from Mars would be landing on our street. I gave him a few seconds in which to respond and then abruptly some kind of fear swelled up inside me and I turned around and walked - quickly - past my own house and down our street, so as not to attract reprisals to our building.
                Later the police did in fact come. The boys had made a burglary attempt. Here, I think, words failed me too: my descriptions of them were probably too lousy and too general.
                I still wonder what impetus pushed me toward that little confrontation. It was no conscious thought, but rather some kind of feeling of duty toward mankind in general. Why I in fact would enter the situation with unconscious fear in my stomach I do not know. I just hope that the kid, when he, four other thieves and a "fence" were finished divvying up the proceeds from one stolen, used computer, had just a second in which he thought, What a stupid thing to do... But I think words probably failed him at that moment too, as they probably still and will do from now on.               
                How do you in fact talk with the wordless?

                My book #Pieces: A Life in Eight Movements and a Prelude (#WiDo Publishing) has received seven five star reviews and one one star review. But to get the sales moving I need many more reviews. 
                If you are interested in music, violin playing, free will, and storytelling, then you probably would like reading the book.
                Please contact me through google + (John von Daler) if you would like to read "Pieces" and to review it. Or buy it yourself at Amazon.com or your bookstore or at CeleryTree.




               




                

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