It's strange to be me right now. I'm silent and as such I am introverted and anti-social, two words that I have never used to describe myself, not even at my most hermitic of times. Normally I'd be asking more questions, talking to and befriending teachers, and socializing with pretty much anyone who crossed my path. I'd be cracking witty (and, of course, stupid) jokes and making quite a fool of myself on a regular basis. It is both liberating and frustrating that I can do none of these things. Mostly liberating. I think.
There's a woman here named Janine who is just lovely. She's a beautiful woman in her (I'd say) late forties/early fifties with a little bit of grey just on the edges of her hairline and the coolest freckles I've ever seen. I didn't have much interaction with her the first week but we were in all the same classes and often sat near each other. In a lot of these classes the teacher will have us introduce ourselves and (depending on the theme of the class) say a word or two about this, that, or even the other thing. I always write mine down and recruit someone to read it for me. That person was Janine a couple times last week and this week, even if she's clear across the room she reaches out for my notebook when it's my turn. The other day she handed it back after she'd finished reading and said, "I love being Rana's voice, I don't know why!" That afternoon I sat with her and a few others outside during lunch and she introduced me and told the group that I was silent. Another woman in our lunch circle, Helen, a woman who still carries more than a sparkle of her youthful beauty (I imagine she was quite the socialite) started asking questions. I handed her the index card with my explanation on it. "Oh! Oh.... aaaaah..... oooooh." Our other lunch mates looked on in anticipation so Helen read it aloud in a classic new york accent, "I am on doctor-prescribed vocal rest due to a health opportunity on my vocal chords. I am a singer/songwriter and actor and my voice is my life. I am doing one month of silence coupled with 3 weeks here to ensure a full recovery."
Janine turned to me, this was the first she'd heard of the actual reason I was silent, and said, "Well Rana, I am not surprised at all." Turns out she's an actor and a singer as well. Must be why we had that connection, even from afar. Helen asked, "What was your name again?" and I handed her my name tag. "Rawna." She said it with such conviction I almost didn't correct her but it's my life's work to get people to say my name right so I put my hands in the air and brought them down with a twinkle in my fingers. "Rain-a!" She exclaimed, proud to have understood this game of charades. I made a "that's it" gesture and she said, "It helps to be an actor!" She went on about how amazing my silence could be, that I get to observe people and learn so much and all the while I was furiously nodding my head. "It's enlightening" I wrote. She said she was a clinical psychologist and she wished more of her clients would be observers like, for example, at a company Christmas party. She said if they'd just abstain from drinking they'd learn a helluva lot about their co-workers and wouldn't get themselves into trouble. The best thing was that with all her talk about how amazing silence and observation could be, she completely usurped the conversation for the rest of the hour and didn't let anyone get a word in edgewise no matter what the topic. I was silently amused. She is a wonderfully petite woman with a gargantuan personality.
Another woman, Leslie, who I see everywhere but have not had occasion to "talk" to has recently started playfully commenting as she passes me, "There's the silent girl," or "Hello silent girl." I smile and wave and we continue walking in our different directions. Then there's Ray. Ray and I met the first day I was here and we always seemed to be in the same place at the same time. We'd sit near each other in class and he'd pass little notes of commentary on the subject matter or ask questions if he missed something. Outside of class he'd chat away and I'd nod and give my thumbs up and occasionally write something down. We are often in situations where I don't have "my voice" (the notebook I use to communicate) so we have engaged in many truly one-sided conversations. He is patient and just laughs when I try to "say" something but fail miserably with my charades, and he invariably keeps the one-sided chatting going strong. Every morning in our exercise class we take two laps around the perimeter of the campus (about a mile). Ray and I always walk together, leading the masses. He talks and I respond with lip noises or tongue clicks or exaggerated gesticulations and every so often he asks me a question that I am unable to answer without pen and paper so (after a failed attempt at flailing my arms in explanation) we just let it go and move on to the next thing. The most phenomenal part of the whole thing is that he is usually extremely shy and reserved and has found his inner extrovert (haha) at OHI. He admitted his shyness to me the second day we were here and I was shocked, I mean I never would have known based on the interactions I'd had with him that he was outside of his comfort zone. On our (very brisk) walk the other day he told me he'd like to record our walk one morning with the audio recording function on his iphone (with just him carrying the conversation) so as to be able to play it for his wife. "She'll just about fall out of her chair," he said, sharing in the marvel that was his new personality. What he doesn't know is just how outgoing and verbose I usually am. So we've essentially traded places, re-inventing ourselves in each other's shadows.
Today on our walk Leslie was in stride with me and Ray and she called me by my name for the first time (I didn't think she knew my name) and though we couldn't have a conversation at that point we did get to interact, so to speak (heh). She informed me that we're taking the same off-campus "cooking" class (in quotes because it is a raw food preparation class) this weekend and I mimed that I had a car and could take her. She and Ray continued to talk as I listened and nodded and smiled. Ray announced that he had a session with Evangeline later and I gave a ginormous nod of approval and a thumbs up (that's the session that left my throat in a state of utter relaxation). Leslie asked what it was and Ray said, "I don't really know, Rana you tell her." I gave him a playfully weary look and he laughed, knowing full well I could do no such thing. Leslie turned to me and said, "Oh, you don't even have to speak. Your face, your eyes, your smile... you are so expressive." Well, on an egotistical level, that made my day. There I was, feeling incomprehensible and drab compared to my usual self, unable to carry on the simplest of conversations and all at once I was reminded that I am me no matter what level of sound (or lack thereof) comes forth from my lips. Since I'm supposed to be changing the frequency (in all senses of the word) at which I speak, I was relieved to know that my personality was not lost along with my voice. l later realized, on a more spiritual level, that my silence was helping me fulfill one of the intentions I'd set (in that old journal I found under my bed) which was to let people get to know me on their terms, not mine. That is exactly what is happening here. People are coming to me in their own time and on their own terms. I am just sitting back and letting my energy draw them in, rather than bombarding them with my obnoxious outgoingness. It's nice, for a change, and boy does it take some pressure off; pressure I didn't even know was there until it wasn't anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment