There is a fragile beauty in not being good at something, in not understanding, in having the world blow by you in a blur.

On the surface it’s all bad.  There’s always someone better at the task.  The head starts bowing in despair.  All is poop.

But there is indeed a light at the far end of the tunnel, if only I have eyes to see the glow.

“Really look at what you’re doing here, Bruce.  You’ve thrown yourself into a new country and a new language.  You’re returning to the cello, the piano and the guitar.  Well done.”

Thank you.  I needed that.

I’ve just returned from three hours of my Dutch language class.  Isabel, the teacher, speaks slowly and clearly.  And I don’t understand 80% of what she’s saying.  When we listen to audio conversations, the speakers are fast, and I get close to zero.  We get paired up for simple dialogues.  I need coaching from my partner.  We’re asked to write e-mails, such as responding to a wedding invitation.  And then I’m glued to Google Translate.

There … that’s enough moaning.  My friend Paula says that of course we get lost in class.  If we were good at Dutch we wouldn’t be taking the course.  She’s right.

What did I expect?  A walk in the park?  Not for this language learner.

This writing is helping.  The overwhelm is lessening.  My eyes are open again … and there’s a horizon out there.

I walk on

Thanks for listening