for what is precious,
to see your world;
and know that
you are loved
even if you
can’t see yourself.
shape what we see,
creating our sense
filtering our emotions.
our words wisely.
into which we gaze.
Isn’t it wonderful that we are talking about words and conversations at last? We are human beings, and this is the breath between us.
A few days ago, my friend Lisa Morrison posted an image of the Welsh word hiraeth on Twitter. The emotional response it evoked reminded me that words touch us in extraordinary ways.
This exploration of the living-ness of words is also arising in conversations about whether things we have traditionally thought of as nouns should be verbs.
For example, Alan Moore’s assertion that beauty is a verb. In Do Design: Why beauty is key to everything we are invited to do beauty. And the rich illustrations from Indigenous languages in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Brading Sweetgrass.
This shifts how we see the world and ourselves. It challenges our cultural tendency to objectify everything and invites us to engage in generous conversations – with ourselves and each other – that gives more than it takes.
And uses beautiful words.
Hiraeth n. (Welsh) A spiritual longing for a home which maybe never was. Nostalgia for ancient places to which we cannot return. It is the echo of the lost places of our soul’s past and our grief for them. It is in the wind, and the rocks, and the waves. It is nowhere and it is everywhere. Especially in the context of Wales or Welsh culture, it is a deep longing for home.