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Teacher, Do You See Me Waving My Hand?


Rodney Bohen

As a writer, or scribbler of words if you prefer, I wonder often indeed, do they see me painted and stretched out upon the parchment they view?

Surely this remains in part, the exercise of words arranged and cast, does it not? To have our very essence spelled out in arrayed lines depicting our nature, opinion, heart, and color of soul.

So in fact, if part of our venture of spilling words openly remains that of being seen or noticed in part, does that not rather paint us as somewhat pathetic, conjuring up a comical and endearing picture of a grade-schooler painted in wild gesticulation displayed, while in animated fashion and form raises his hand in the classroom and waves it in desperateness, to be noticed, for he feels he has the answer to the question asked.

Oh yes, few vary in this respect, we each become quite animated when we sense we might have the answer to something, anything or everything!

Yes, I imagine as writers indeed, that we hope, we, our character, and our banner of heart, can be seen saddled upon the many words we pen and sketch into time, though I imagine that many read as well and never see the rider himself mounting the very framework of saddled words cast. And for many who pen with bylines equaling Anon, I'm sure this remains acceptable and preferable to be certain.

Yes, I as well scribed when young, under the unique and carefully thought out pen name of Anon! I liked the fact that my words stood tall and spoke, yet would tell not, nor reveal the river and source of authorship shrouded by choice, and buried in deep-seeded insecurity.

Yes, how thought provoking to be sure, if we are those who have penned a book that depicts our personal walk of life, indeed our very heart and essence lie between the cover front and back. Yes, our words they remain somewhat like a photo we choose to share publicly, yet not all enjoy having their picture taken, now do they?

I when young was described as a ham somewhat, yes eager to have history catch my pose for posterity, for indeed then did I feel in my innocence, that my childlike smile of innocence was worthy indeed of being captured and stilled in time.

As I now trudge onward in my escapade of parading my heart in public, I have somewhat differing feeling about this application of heart strewn about in reckless fashion for all to view, yes, less sure of this fact, that any or all should desire to see my still childlike presence racing and scampering about on parchment daily.

Yes, it was easier I fear to walk forward in distinct surety when my byline merely was painted as Anon.

Yes, most all desire to be seen, revealed and captured in times grasp, due to our words imprinted, spoken and laid carefully upon the backbone of time churning, our fear I can only guess, as with photographs remains this, is that our words may not paint us in trueness of character and heart! Or rather this fact, that our words painted us too honestly indeed!

We as individuals I think all grapple daily with this notion of insecurity stomping and roaming about our inward arenas of heart, yet few often will admit it! Often it has been my experience in life, that the individual who claims not to give one good damn what others think, generally it is he or she who perhaps cares the most, and rests in deep layers of insecurity to be sure! Sensing this as a character defect of sorts, they masterfully mask and veil their true feelings from that day forward, determined in bedrock fashion and form, that none shall ever gain a glimpse of that character, and heart so special, ever again!

Why indeed I wonder? Well, I can only speak for this one soul I fear today, we indeed all have need of acceptance, some have never known such acceptance, as personal or intimate their entire life, we therefore in clumsy fashion and form attempt to warm up to it our entire lives! Sadly often those that try the hardest fail most miserably!

Yes indeed, teacher, today do you see me raising my hand! I think I have the answer today! For all know usually I do not! Therefore my handraising of past has often ended in embarrassment and disappointment too numerous to recall.

Yet in like spirit as children, we some still furiously throw our hand up still, and wave it in time, desperately attempting to depict the very essence and banner of our heart, as if to say, hello, do you see me in here? Yes, hiding, dwelling and lurking within the very blood, bone and framework that these words painted, pictured and represented this day.

I adore the childlike qualities that remain still deeply embedded within each and all of us still, I find this animated innocence and impulsive behavior noble and rich in sweeping simplicity and charm. Sadly may I state, many in life's walk have determined to never again allow this special and radiant side of our sculptured heart's to ever be seen again, deeming it not finished nor refined enough to be displayed, manifested and showcased in the public marketplace of life.

I have penned rather extensively over the years on this sad conduct of hiding the  transparent innocent heart that I feel still reigns within each and all of us, or should reign, I should state. I feel without a doubt that the innocence of childhood that once candlelit our pathway walked, was never intended to be discarded as we melted into adulthood. No, I feel rather this simple uninhibited accent of childlike is our brightest and most glimmering attribute of character, when allowed to shimmer, live, breathe, and be seen.

Yes, my short attention span manifested upon parchment as well, depicts my learned and practiced submission and attempt to bow to these childlike yearnings of heart. As I digress often, and skip and traipse here and there in topic, thought and remembrance, yet hell, its kind of fun to be free enough once again to do just that!

For is it not freeing the vaulted child within us, one significant and essential step in walking in new refreshed freedom of spirit daily, for surely none walk in a modicum nor measure of freedom to be compared to the heart of a child!

Oh just mere observations my friends, no more no less, for I seek not to set myself up as one who stands upon high and lofty ground of thought, I merely am just talking out loud that's all, and yes often in life I fear few have ever reached the end of my words on the page, for I seem to talk too much sometimes! At least that's what I was told as a child! Yes, that I was a jabbermouth and chatterbox, and talked as much as a girl! Parades now the voice of my Father in time, in rehearsal once more!

Well hell, I always liked girls, and found them brighter than boys, so I understood not his words of inference completely, yet I did, I fear, all to well. I knew this much, that he had little regard for my words until his departure of recent carriage. I know that I talk too much! I have been aware of it for years! Yet... I wonder who set the rules and boundaries on such things anyway, though I know that I have a propensity to be a tad wordy and verbose, I don't believe that I ever encountered where it was a sin?

Yes, I know, some are now whispering and muttering even as we speak.... well maybe it should be a sin!

Alas, if it remains a sin indeed, I shall be left suspended in time somewhere for evermore I fear, never reaching my final destination!

No, it may be offensive, this tongue of mine that seldom stirs not, nor stands still, yet I hope not that it remains a sin dark and swarthy, for actually if the truth be known, I am deep down an affable and sincerely friendly type and sort, just trying to be friendly the only way I still know how, yes upon parchment! For it became years ago transparent, that for whatever reason, many chose not to entreat my voice so hard to detect and understand. Yes, it is for this very reason that I stood silent in tongue for years!

But just as in grade school, I stand in similar posture this day, I try not to raise my hand in class so much, for the teacher grows weary and has stated as much in public causing great embarrassment I might add, and she receives my upraised hand now with a sigh instead of a smile. Yet being a kid, and still knowing no boundaries of patience and temperance, I yes, throw up my hand once again today, and I wave it about clumsily, as a signal of my presence and celebration of life, overlooked by many in time, but nevertheless still here!

Oh teacher, oh teacher! Can you see me today?

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