"The angels are so enamored of the language that is spoken in heaven,
that they will not distort their lips
with the hissing and unmusical dialects of men,
but speak their own,
whether there be any who understand it or not."
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
I spent last weekend at the International School of Story Telling...
What was I really doing there? Many reasons, but it wasn't just to listen to stories. I observed the magical art of weaving light through words. I was like a little child, fascinated 'yes, yes, yes, tell me more...'. Interestingly, it wasn't exactly the words that fascinated me... but rather the space between the them.
So many times, I have failed to find the words to express this vast infinite heaven within. So often words defy what is at the centre of my core. Having a story to tell, yet no words to share them with, ignites a determination within me to break free of these limitations. I really understand what Emerson is trying to express in the quote above. It is certainly not because of arrogance that the angels do not speak fondly of words. Not at all.
They DO speak. They speak all the time. They speak through nature, through synchronicity, through dance, through play. When they try to speak, they find that they cannot squeeze heaven into such a narrow passageway of vocabulary. They find that when they do, the message is often lost.
Listen also to the space between the words. Even in the presence of a word smith. Feel the energy. Perhaps the real message will be found in the space between the words.
For me, that is the only place I have ever found the real 'story'.
Soul to Soul