Signing and Singing are Synonymous

“Dyslexic!”

I have been called that—often—by people I spend most of my time with: family and close friends. 

It’s because it takes me more seconds than they do in distinguishing left from right, push from pull, north from south, entrance from exit. 

Sometimes, I also mix up sounds of words. I’d say Dantu Date, instead of Dante Datu (his real name), or Papelmeroti instead of Papemelroti (spoonerism, it is called). 

“Should I be worried?” I once asked a doctor about these maladies. 

She laughed. “You are a writer, and therefore, a multi-thinker. There are too many things in your mind at the same time, making you oblivious to signs and sounds.”

And now this: 

Signing and singing, to me, are the same. Signing my books is building connection with the reader. It’s as though we are being connected by an invisible velcro. And that makes my heart sing.

Sign and sing. 

Sing and sign. 

Sign and sing.

Sing and sign.

Sign and sing. They are one and the same. In my multi-thinking (euphemism for absent-minded?) brain,  they are either interchangeable grace or 2-in-1 grace. And that has nothing to with dyslexia or spoonerism. 

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Stuart K. Hine (1899–1989)