Expiramental

After the emcee introduced him, he roared to the podium. The room was small and the voice was big. The words, well, the words were expiramental. If you can call them words. Sounds patched together meaning less than a Dr. Seuss rhyme. The speaker is a self declared expiramental artist.

If self-reflection was his goal, he piqued mine. How much of the time do I sound like that? He was loud, emotional, and ambiguous in meaning. The words were not devoid of meaning, just devoid of a linguistic home. The force, volume, and inflection had its impact. Throw in some nonverbal facial expressions and body language. He sent a message of anger and importance.

This is not a political statement – or is it?

The speaker truly was an expiramental vocalist. I’m not sure if you call that a poet, a speaker, an actor, or even an orator. There is an invitation to examine language, meaning, and intent all at one time. Listening, truly listening, is an art. I could have just turned off the so-called noise I was hearing. I did not.

My own communication comes in from a deep center. Sharing with others, I know my references and trajectory. What I have failed to know is whether my audience shares them. Do I sound like I am using expiramental language to some? Strings of vocalizations flowing that use words, but folks are lost without proper alignment to events, feelings, or characters.

This is a call to the stuff it-in-a-drawer method of reflection. If you take it out a week later and the material still resonates, perhaps it is ready for the world. Then the other side of the question, is the world ready for it?