An author’s note about an ‘untranslatable words’ writing prompt:
Because writers are word-appreciators, I would like to share two words with y'all: saudade (Portuguese) and hiraeth (Welsh) because they are absolutely beautiful and worth knowing.
Saudade speaks to something of the union of nostalgia, longing, melancholy, and grief while also brushing up against the happiness and appreciation for the thing past that is now lost.
Hiraeth is also a word of longing, but specifically tied to place and time. Nostalgia or a deep longing for a place or time that may never have existed, or that may have existed only in one's memories or imagination - a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost - a unique blend of place, time, and people that can never be recreated.
I tried to write about them first because they are the two untranslatable words that have consumed so much of my heart's journey the last four years, but I couldn't do it. The words, though very much felt, still remain untranslatable into English because my feelings and experiences still remain untranslatable from the inner landscape to the written word. So. Having attempted it, and once again finding myself writing in circles, confusing even myself, I redirected my efforts to a less charged writing prompt - a healing one in fact, and chose the word Ubuntu:
“I find my worth in you, and you find your worth in me.”
The Sparkling Gaze of a Dog
There are few gifts greater in this life than the intense and cheerful gaze of a dog at his human's face. Two dark, lively, sparkling orbs staring with focused attention, the mouth agape, pearly fang-toothed smile and flopping pink tongue - to be on the receiving end of such intensity fills one with immense love, gratitude and satisfaction.
A gaze like that is not freely given and is absolutely a mark of distinction. A dog gives such a gaze to those he is bonded with, to those he finds relevant because care and attention and love and respect have been offered from this human to the dog again and again and again. It is a bond rooted in trust.To say that I find my worth in my dogs is no understatement. They are the cadence of my day. Their internal clocks are so precise that they will wake me before, yet still in proximity to, my alarm clock. Their requests are few, but they prefer them to be timely. They know when it's time to eat, or go outside, or any of the other daily routines they've come to rely on in our household.
I find my comfort in them too. Their preference to be in the same room with me as I move about the house, or to curl up next to me as I lie across the bed reading or writing, or to curl up so tightly next to me when I sleep at night that I'm pressed in tight like a mummy under the covers as they seal me in on each side lying atop the blanket.
Thinking of ways to stimulate their young, inquisitive, intelligent minds and their youthful, lithe and lively bodies is another way my worth is found in them. I know they need me to help them navigate the human world they live in. So we practice manners and I encourage moderate reactions to the bicycles and cats they view from the bedroom window. We play chase and tug and fetch and go on outings when we can.
Is it too much of a stretch to imagine that they find their worth in me? Perhaps - for one can't truly know what goes on in their mind. But when I see their focused, happy gaze looking up at me waiting for their breakfast each morning, I wonder. When I see how my shepherd follows me, even if only in gaze, from room to room as he supervises my bedtime routine each night before escorting me to bed, I feel a sense of purpose behind it - like he does find worth in shepherding me, in staying abreast of all household activities and knowing where he perceives he's needed (and when he can relax in his favorite chair - but perhaps only for a while before coming to survey his home again to ensure all is as it should be). When my terrier jumps up into my lap and dramatically throws his little body against my chest, tummy bared, for rubs and pets, I am delighted by him. When he is wildly upset about the aforementioned bicycle or cat, he relies on me to help him re-regulate - on the intervention of physical touch, my hand on his back, or sometimes scooping him up, to reconnect him to the present moment and help him start to soothe.
We are interwoven, our family of humans, dogs and other smaller critters. But an even tighter weave exists amongst us three: me, the shepherd, and the terrier. We rely on each other in ways that exist outside of the rest of the human and animal family unit. Without them, my days would lose rhythm and have less meaning and purpose. Without me, their days would lose rhythm and they would miss their felt sense of purpose (to supervise, protect, alert, and flop over for pets!) - for they don't supervise or protect the other household human like they do me.
It's that distinction that I celebrate: the lived experience of ubuntu between us. It's not always easy between us - they're still growing up, and I don't always get things right, but our shared life feels absolutely right. I'm so grateful to we get to experience life together.