When I was a young girl attending university I became an English honors student. This event in itself was a surprise to me, that I should be accepted into the honors program. It was the first time in my life that I really felt I could be more than ordinary, more than a girl from outport Newfoundland. It was the first time that the universe responded to my heart's greatest desire to be a learned person of literature. I wanted to hear and feel and fully experience the power of language and how we as humans communicate what is in our souls. It was the beginning of my love affair with words that continues to this day.
Looking back I wonder if things would have turned out as well as they did without my beloved professor, Gildas Roberts. Dr. Roberts was extraordinary. He was a man of small stature but large presence. When he walked down the hallways of the English Department he seemed to glide, with his academic robes gracefully swishing behind him. He was immaculate in dress and personal grooming, distinguished and charming. He knew he caught your attention and he enjoyed it. He entered the classroom with the same flourish and looked out upon us with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Only Gildas Roberts could make
Beowulf rise from the pages to live amongst us in the classroom. His flawless reading in Old English gave shape to a language that was as sweet in the ear as it was upon the tongue. I went on to take advanced Old English. Dr. Roberts taught one other student and me in his office for two semesters. We were two eager young girls with our feet tucked beneath us in large leather chairs, ready to learn from a man whose wisdom we so deeply admired. That winter was a blessed time. Snow falling outside the window of Dr. Roberts' office while we read and translated word for word the entire text of
Beowulf. By the time spring came we had finished our translation. As a gift for our many hours of dedicated work Dr. Roberts gave each of us a signed copy of his personal published translation of
Beowulf. It is a treasured book in my library to this day.
After I graduated from university my life took a number of different turns and it was many years later that I decided to reconnect with my professor. Sadly, my dear Dr. Roberts had been tragically killed in a motorcycle accident while traveling in Wales. It broke my heart to not get to tell him how much he meant to me and how important a role he played in my life. Part of me supposes that he knew. But youth is not always respectful of the gifts bestowed. It takes time and perspective to gain genuine understanding of what was imparted by those who taught us when we were young. It was when my children took an interest in
Beowulf that I began thinking of Dr. Roberts again. As I read and translated the text for my kids I heard the voice of Gildas Roberts patiently enunciating each separate sound of the Anglo Saxon words. Once more
Beowulf came alive for me and I was able to incite in my kids the awe and wonder of the story of a hero and a monster.
How fortunate are we when we find our passion! There is a joy in it like none other. We are fully awake, alive in the pulse of our greatest existence. It is in our passion that we find our reason for being, our purpose, our right alignment with the spirit that guides us. I wish for you just such an awakening, just such a doorway into your passion. You deserve nothing less.