It was in watching the beauty of conversation in sign language that I realized that language is first and foremost a vehicle for story. It was a Sunday afternoon and the sun was setting in Roseville, California, when I walked into a packed and yet silent Starbucks. It was eerie to hear the rustle of clothing with no voices until I realized I had walked into a sign language meeting. The whole cafe was filled with a flurry of expressions and soundless circling and cupping of hands and motioning of fingers pointed and relaxed with intention and precision. I experienced a moment outside of myself right then and there as I entered a parallel universe of storytelling. It was unlike any other language experience I had ever had. It was magic: an intimately familiar and yet an undeniably foreign experience of myself and others as a human storytellers.
The best teachers are our stories.
Not only are we storytellers, we are interpreters of story.
Most of the time the stories that we hear are stories of tragedy before tragedy is overcome and hardship turned into perseverance and the recovering of dignity. Often, are the stories that are so bad that they cannot be hidden. I help my clients recover their dignity and strengthen their character through education even if the educational process in the United States has wounded them. It is a gift to share some of what I have learned on this blog.
