If you were asked to name the 10 most important words in your vocabulary,
my guess is that most of them would be nouns. I believe, as did Ernest Hemingway, that
good writing consists of the use of forceful nouns and verbs rather than lots of
adjectives and adverbs. I try to remember that when I write.
I also think it is important, though, to examine the nouns we find most
relevant to our values. I have done this over the past few years in creating a quilt
composed of cross-stitched panels. After I had completed several of the rectangles I
realized that, while I was enjoying the rote activity of applying silk thread to
prescribed patterns on canvas and loved the colorful depictions of spring flowers, I still
wanted to put my own stamp on this quilt. Thus, as I was weaving bright red thread though
the small squares to fashion a bright red tulip, I was thinking about the bright red of my
mother’s nail polish, a grown-up decoration I thought signified her vivid beauty. The
color red also reminds me of a value I covet, a zest for life that she embodied and I hope
I do. So on that square I added, in free-form embroidery, the word, "passion."
That first departure from the prescribed pattern resulted in my choosing
nouns for each of the finished panels. It proved to be a daunting task, and as I
considered possible words, stories and memories returned with such force that I wrote a
chapter for each one, resulting in what has become a rather unwieldy memoir.
Here they are. Perhaps you have words of your own that you would use in
such an exercise. I guess if you could fit them on my tombstone, they’d just about
sum up the essence of my tenure on this earth, those things I admire. They are in no
particular order (I certainly would not like to rank them).
Passion; imagination; light; courage; grace; loyalty; friendship; love;
adventure; serenity; simplicity; freedom; wisdom; laughter; beauty; hope.
While I am tempted to spend time discussing the words not chosen because I
think that also says something about my values, let me explain just three of my choices,
again selected at random.
Adventure. I don’t think I will ever be bored, nor, thank God,
consider suicide, even in my darkest moments. Why? Because I have a certain childlike
sense of mystery that compels me to seek the object just around the corner, to fantasize
just a bit about the possibilities for drama in the unknown, to want to find out the
reality behind the exotic names of far-flung places. Others might seek physical adventure,
but when it comes to precipices and the risk of injury, I am cowardly. I prefer emotional
risks, often to my dismay later when the unknown is revealed and found wanting.
Nonetheless, I love the trip. I hope, that like a child, I will always hold wonder, as
Sara Teasdale, the poet said, "like a cup," viewing life as filled to
overflowing, up to the brim with magic.
Grace. So, okay, I am a klutz. Some of my friends have even
nicknamed me "Grace" in (I hope loving) satire because I am always bumping into
things. Certainly whenever I’ve tried to impress someone with my style, I’ve
tripped. For example, a while back my friend Jola and I were sitting at a large table
shared by other patrons in a landmark San Francisco seafood restaurant. I was very aware
of the delightful man who was engaging us in conversation. I thought my addition to the
dialogue to be suitably charming and was being as vivacious as possible, contributing what
I thought were particularly wonderful witticisms. Only about five minutes later did I spot
the clumps of butter on my elbow, a soggy mass which had adhered to my sleeve during a
sweeping gesture. As you can imagine, I wasn’t invited to waltz!
No, the grace I mean is the grace to admit one’s faults, to let go of
bitterness and jealousy, and to accept life’s turmoil with some elan. That’s
grace. Not needing the final word is grace. I have a friend who solves disputes, even when
she knows she’s right, by saying, "You may be right," and smiling.
That’s grace.
Laughter. What would life be like without it? When I lose my sense
of humor, I know I’m in trouble. We’ve all read about the therapeutic values of
laughter, so I fear this assertion to be a cliché. Nonetheless, the more I experience the
nuances of relationships, the more I find that humor is an absolute necessity in a
partner. Sometimes that’s tricky, I know, because we all laugh at different things,
but I’ll even settle for chuckles. My friend Ali and I often say, especially when
tears are running down our cheeks at the silliness we’ve engendered, "Well, at
least we’ll always be able to say we had some good laughs!" Now if I can just
remember to laugh at myself!
I’d enjoy hearing from any of you who have other words you hold
especially dear. Hey, maybe we can even get a book out of this!
