Lost in Translation: My Spanish Misadventures
For some time, I’ve had good intentions to practice more Spanish—which I know marginally, though my speaking skills lag. In the presence of native speakers, I clam up. At the Spanish-language church I serve, I recently told someone “I have a man,” instead of “I am hungry”; and about a plate of chicken mole, “I’m going to drink it when I get home.” Every time I make such a gaffe, I leave the encounter before I realize what I’ve done. When the realization dawns, I proceed to pound my head on the floor.
I’ve been working at learning Spanish for years—sometimes intensively, in the past couple of years more lazily. I’m not all that slick at speaking my first language. So when it comes to speaking foreign-languages, I’m downright lame.
Thus, my intentions for Lent.
Entering the Season of Lent
The sacred season of Lent begins this week. As I explained to my Quaker (read: non-liturgical) partner yesterday, Lent is the season in the liturgical church’s calendar when we focus on the dark side, essentially pondering our brokenness (our essential f**ked-up-ness, as I something think of it—pardon the language) and penance. And who, in the current state of our world can dispute our essential f**ked-up-ness? Traditionally, observant individuals have given up something as a kind of reminder. When one thinks of the thing that is missing, one reflects with penitence on one’s brokenness.
A Different Kind of Lent
But over years, I have developed a different Lenten practice. Instead of giving something up, I try to delve deep into a particular practice or subject. Past Lenten deep dives have included intensive music-listening and listening to quantum physicists, for example. My deep-dive tradition feels analogous to plants sending nutrients deep into their roots in winter, to gather nutrients in preparation for spring. I’ve decided this year to return to more intensive study of Spanish as part of my Lenten deep dive.
Discovering “Consciousness Hygiene”
But I also intend to delve into “consciousness hygiene,” a phrase I learned last week from writer Michael Pollan. The phrase registered for me immediately. In recent weeks, my consciousness hygiene has felt lazy, unhealthy, bad. Since consciousness means the thoughtful awareness of what is going on within and around us, good consciousness hygiene means keeping this awareness keen and sensitivity acute. Bad consciousness hygiene allows the window of our awareness to get so mucked up we cannot “see” clearly and allows our sensitivity to get so stopped up that perception and emotion cannot flow.
Overconsumption in a Noisy World
I have been taking in too much. Too much news, opinion, analysis, and even too many books. When thoughtfully chosen, these are all good things. But in excess, they can make me feel sick. Sick of the voices and sick of all the things happening in the world—which, face it, are pretty nauseating. Overconsumption of thought and news, even of great thinkers, can feel like gorging on good food. It doesn’t matter how excellent the food is, it makes us queasy.
An Accidental Fast from Noise
Amid our present din, I’ve been longing for more silence, longing to disconnect from discussion of what’s happening in our country—not to ignore it, but to deepen my awareness and sensitivity around it. Yesterday for six hours I accidently disconnected. It was an accident because I hadn’t planned it. I just started doing things outside and working on a creative project and forgot to bring my phone. When I noticed the quiet, it felt so good I kept it going.
For Lent, I want to disconnect more to practice better consciousness hygiene.
The Tension Between Attention and Withdrawal
Yet as good as disconnecting and silence sometimes feel, I also know this hygiene will feel strenuous. Part of how I process the chaos of our current national situation is by listening to smart, experienced people and trying to understand; often having more information lessens the sense of anxiety for me. Furthermore, I sometimes feel that disconnecting is unkind to people affected most by the chaos, who need us to pay attention.
Part of Lent for me will be finding the balance and reflecting on my own brokenness, my own contribution to the chaos. You can use whatever four-letter word you want for this.
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Wren, winner of a 2022 Independent Publishers Award Bronze Medal
Winner of the 2022 Independent Publisher Awards Bronze Medal for Regional Fiction; Finalist for the 2022 National Indie Excellence Awards. (2021) Paperback publication of Wren , a novel. “Insightful novel tackles questions of parenthood, marriage, and friendship with finesse and empathy … with striking descriptions of Oregon topography.” —Kirkus Reviews (2018) Audiobook publication of Wren.
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