The charity I choose to support is Bridgerland Literacy. It's a local organization that has helped many individuals to learn to read - - a skill that is priceless. Bridgerland Literacy changes lives, one at a time, and I'm proud to be a literacy tutor.
a . . . collection of accounts of families who have had the opportunity
to meet the souls of their sons and daughters before they were born. . . .
vivid memories of life in heaven by young children,
and dramatic stories of prayers answered
by guardian angels who watch over us.
Discover:
a letter from a mother to her son, whom she gave up for adoption, telling him of the dream that guided her through that painful decision.
a kidnapped child who survived her ordeal by the guiding hand of the baby sister who would be born years later.
A little boy's memory of being brought to earth by his grandfather - a man he never knew.
A woman's vision of a child in a garden, and the powerful certainty that he was her son, waiting his turn to come into this world.
*
Book Review:
We Lived in Heaven is a fascinating collection of accounts describing encounters with children before they were born, as well as accounts of young children's memories of premortal life. It is inspiring and insightful and reminds us how precious each of these little souls is, and how very thin the veil between mortal life and immortality can be.
-----Janet Kay Jensen, author of Don't You Marry the Mormon Boys and co-author, The Book Lover's Cookbook
*
We Lived in Heaven
by Sarah Hinze
Paperback: 137 pages
Publisher: Spring Creek Book Company (November
2006)
Sarah Hinze is the author of Coming
From the Light: Spiritual Accounts of Life Before Life (Pocketbooks/Simon
& Schuster, Inc., 1994); Life Before Life: A Collection of Mother's
Experiences with their Preborn Children (Cedar Fort, 1993); and Songs
of the Morning Stars: a Study of Unborn Children and the Life-Changing Truths
they Reveal (Spring Creek, 2006).
Sarah has published numerous magazine and newspaper articles and is currently a staff writer at The Beehive newspaper in Phoenix, AZ She gives frequent lectures and presentations related to her research and publications. She has been a substitute teacher and provider of volunteer workshops on creative writing in the Mesa, Arizona school district and charter schools since 1990. She is also a counselor and self-empowerment therapist. She holds degrees in Education, with minors in History and English from East Tennessee State University and Utah State University.
Carolyn CampbellI don't know how to comment on the blog, but my comment would be that I had the privilege of talking to Sarah Hinze many years ago and I was impressed by her sensitivity, insight, gentleness, introspection and writing talent...she is one of a kind and an incisive soul....
Update: My niece isn't too keen on seeing To Kill a Mockingbird at the Utah Shakespeare Festival this summer. Says she didn't care for the book in high school.
One of our favorite actors is back this summer, so I sent her this message:
"You must see To Kill a Mockingbird. Iago is Atticus!"
Slimy, brilliant Iago will morph into wise, gentle Atticus. The magic of theater!
OK, this is my first experience with a blog hop. Mea culpa.
I am supposed to feature a favorite character from YA literature
and offer a giveaway on my blog.
That's easy enough, though I have to choose two characters:
Scout and Jem from my favorite novel, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.
Leave a comment about Jem or Scout or To Kill a Mockingbird here on my blog
between March 21 and March 28, 2012.
That's all you have to do.
I'll select one entry at random and
the prize will be a copy of the book.
If you're the winner, I'll contact you for your snail mail address.
You can visit all the other participating blogs and register for their giveaways
I'm seeing the stage production of To Kill a Mockingbird this summer at the Utah Shakespeare Festival. I've seen it performed before and it's beautifully written and designed.
Zina stood in the middle of the Centurium monument on the Southern Utah University campus in Cedar City, surrounded by greatness. Amy had told her about spending a cold, uncomfortable night here, though she had also confided that she’d been oddly comforted by the brilliance represented by the larger-than-life bronzes. Zina wondered if it had been her youngest sister's first real glimpse into the vast world beyond their little protected hamlet.
She had just bent to read the inscription at Marie Curie’s feet when she heard footsteps that came to an abrupt stop. Wondering who had interrupted her reverie, she turned and found herself looking into the shocked blue eyes of Mark Stratton, the golden man, the smooth seducer who had told her she was beautiful and then taken her innocence. A mountain bike, worse for the wear, was by his side.
“Zina? Is it really you?” He looked as shocked as she felt.
When she finally found her voice, it sounded calm and assured, which was equally shocking. “Yes.”
“You’ve changed.”
So had he. His golden beauty had begun to fade. His hair, not as blonde now, no longer gleaming in the sunlight, was shaggy and in need of a trim. The eternal youthful tan had weathered his skin and the dazzling blue of his eyes had faded to ordinary blue. He looked rather ordinary. In fact, dressed in faded jeans and sweatshirt, he looked a little worn around the edges, too.
A surprising but welcome feeling of confidence washed over her. “I suppose I have,” she said, one hand resting casually on the shoulder of Ms. Curie.
“How—how have you been?”
“I’m doing well, thank you,” she said. “And you? Back in Cedar City? What happened to upstate New York?”
He seemed to wither a bit under her glance. “Oh, that,” he said. “The job didn’t work out after all. It wasn’t a good fit.”
“I see.”
“And what have you—you look so different, Zina! I hardly recognized you.”
She gave a brief smile. “That’s what a haircut and a makeover can do for a woman.”
“You look—great. Really. You look. . . stunning.”
She acknowledged his compliment with a slight nod. “Thank you.” She pursued her line of questioning. “So you came back to Cedar City?”
He shrugged. “I always liked it here.”
“You're teaching? High school?”
“Yes.”
She considered this for a long moment. “Are any of your students as promising as I was?”
He paused. Then he blinked. “Well, no, actually.” He gave a forced chuckle.
“I’m glad to hear that. No one as gullible as I was, then?”
He swallowed but did not respond. She noticed his hands had tightened on the handlebars of his bike.
“No, I suppose not,” she answered her own question. “That’s hardly possible, is it, Mark? To find a girl as gullible and naive as I was.”
He appeared to summon a shred of his old charm; she saw the shadow of his once-stunning smile. “Zina,” he said in a patronizing voice, as if she was sixteen again and he the suave seducer, “we both know it wasn’t like that.”
She dropped her hand from the cold but supportive shoulder of Madame Curie, which she no longer needed, and cocked her head slightly to one side, studying his face again. “Right.”
“So,” he said hastily, as if anxious to change the subject, “you moved away, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And what have you done with your life in the last—how long has it been?”
“Ten years, Mark.”
“Right.” His voice had a slight quaver.
“Oh. Well . . ." she pretended to consider what she would say as she watched a slight nervous twitch under his eye. In a casual tone she said, "I’m a college graduate, I have a career, I’ve traveled, and I’m involved in some . . . humanitarian projects.” She gestured at the noble statues. “Nothing all that remarkable. But rewarding, nonetheless.”
“Oh. Well, that’s . . . very impressive.”
She nodded at the larger-than-life figures. “They,” she said, “are impressive.”
She studied him again while he absorbed her response. There was a long silence.
Finally he said, “Zina, we—it ended badly, and I never understood why.”
“Would you—would you like to—to get something to eat? We could . . .”
“Catch up on old times?”
“Yes.” His smiled brightened a bit, revealing creases at the corners of his eyes. “Would you?”
She glanced at her watch and mustered a sincere reply. “I'd really like to, Mark, but I have a plane to catch.” She fished in her bag and found her sunglasses, slipping them on to protect her eyes from the bright Cedar City sun. She inclined her head toward her rental car half a block away. “You can walk me to my car if you like.”
She turned and began to walk toward the car. He caught up with her, his bike at his side, matching her stride.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Zina. You look—”
“All grown up?” They were, after, all, designer sunglasses, chosen for her by Simon, who had exquisite taste.
“Well, yes.”
She turned her head and met his ordinary blue eyes again. “Yes,” she agreed. “All grown up.” She unlocked the car with a chirp from the remote. “Well, here’s my car.” She opened the door and slid in, inserted the key, turned on the ignition and then lowered the window. “This has certainly been a surprise, Mark.”
“I’ll say!”
She put the car in gear. “Oh,” she said, her foot on the brake, as if a new thought had come to her, “there’s something you really should know.”
“What’s that?” He gave a half-smile and bent down to the open window to hear her answer. There was a small sheen of sweat on his upper lip, which needed a shave.
With one manicured fingernail she slid her sunglasses down her nose and met his eyes, those now-average eyes that had once mesmerized her and left her breathless.
She lowered her voice.“The laws on statutory limits for rape—they’re always evolving.”
“What?” The handlebars of his bike slipped from his grip and his bike crashed to the pavement. His were wide, his half-smile frozen.
Now her voice was a conspiratorial whisper. “And you’re not sterile.”
He blanched. “What?”
She slid the sunglasses back to the bridge of her nose and took her foot off the brake. “Goodbye, Mark,” she said to the front windshield. “Wonderful to see you.”
She raised the window and slowly pulled away from the curb. She couldn’t keep herself from glancing in the rear view mirror. Mark stood beside the sidewalk in the bright sunlight, as rigid as the statues she’d been admiring, the bike lying forgotten at his side.
“What?” his open mouth still formed the word.
She turned the corner and headed for the freeway.
- - - -- - From Gabriel's Daughters, my work-in-progress.
Photos of the Centurium monument, c/o Southern Utah University website
The Gruff Variations: Writing for Charity Anthology, Vol. 1, an Ebook by Writing for Charity
Download at www.smashwords.com. 100% of the profits will provide books and school supplies for underprivileged children through Writing for Charity (writingforcharity.com).
The stories and poetry in this anthology were all inspired by the legend of the Three Billy Goats Gruff.
Mine is "The Troll by the Footbridge: a Study in Four Parts."
Given URL is not allowed by the Application configuration.: One or more of the given URLs is not allowed by the Application configuration. It must match one of the Connect or Canvas URLs or domain must be the same as or a subdomain of one of the Application's base domains.
This is showing up on top of my posts. I don't know what it means. I don't know how to get rid of it. And I don't know how to get your attention.
Good news, no, great news: "The Troll by the Footbridge: A Study in Four Parts" has been accepted for publication in the 2012 anthology, titled THE GRUFF VARIATIONS.
There's a story behind this: The submission had to be related to the story of The Three Billygoats Gruff (which is now my very favorite, beating out Stone Soup and The Emperor's New Clothes). Some established authors were invited to submit to the anthology, but I answered the open submissions call and got invited, too.
I love folktales, so I gave this a lot of thought, and I loved writing the story. I was in Finland at the time, so I set the story there (Scandinavia has strong cultural ties to the folktale, and some trolls definitely have a Viking look about them), and two lovely Finnish women shared some memories about trolls from their childhood. I can still see one of the trolls (from a kids' weekly show) in his boat, on the lake, and the boat is slowly sinking . . . but we know he'll live to troll another day. Annamarie and Hanale, thank you for a memorable afternoon, and for lunch, too.
The story will be in print and someone will read it. That's validation.
The pay? Nothing of the monetary kind. Proceeds from the book go to charity. I think I'm well-paid. I have another goat story. For a future post. Meanwhile, "Trip trap! Trip trap. Trip trap! Trip trap!"
When Eleanor Ethel Rose appears at the doorstep of the Cunningham family in pursuit of a housekeeper's job,she meets widow Elizabeth Cunningham and her two preadolescent children, Katherine and Edmund. In Edmund, Eleanor believes she sees the innocent, shining spirit of her own deceased son, David, and she determines that her mission is to protect Edmund in ways she couldn’t protect David. In Catherine, however, Eleanor soon perceives a threat: a child whose innocence and conscience are forever damaged by a terrible secret, and whose actions become increasingly destructive and dangerous.
“To a certain extent,” Loke writes, in her new capacity as housekeeper, Eleanor “was a mother again—her potential to be a caregiverwas innate, her desire to be one immense, and she was determinedto not fail at it again. Being a mother was her only way topersonal redemption, so she could be free of the one deed others called horrendous.”
Eleanor soon becomes an irreplaceable member of the family and learns that under the peaceful exterior of Amalga, Utah, dark secrets fester, stories that Eleanor gradually uncovers. Just as the old house is decaying from within, so is the Cunningham family, with its own painful history. Elizabeth conceives a plan to save her troubled family, with Eleanor’s tacit agreement. However, as plans are apt to backfire, this one does, with serious and permanent repercussions for everyone involved.
There are some eccentric characters in this portrait of Amalga, Utah, with their own unique histories, and Loke makes them memorable actors in his story. For example: elderly Brother Young, whose wife Abigail was found dead in the barn, evidently trampled by their high-strung prize milker; and Janice Farmer, who is more than ready to spread any hint of gossip she sniffs in the air, and does so to Eleanor’s advantage.
The action shifts from past to present with ease, and the story begins and ends with the words and reflections of Victor Lee, a reporter assigned to write an in-depth interview with Eleanor. As Eleanor’s story unfolds, however, Victor loses his objectivity as he realizes: “the more I bury myself in her case, the more difficult it is for me to continue. I fear what I am to discover. I want her to lie to me about her crime. Anything is better than having to write about the ugliness of a person whom you have grown to love. Even explaining my emotion as I sit opposite her and ask wearisome questions is extremely onerous. Somehow, she manages to steal one part of me every time I glance at her. Before long, I’m afraid I will have given her everything that I am, drained to the very bones. The unexplainable part about all this is that I do it voluntarily.”
Loke’s characterization is vivid, his culinary descriptions are tantalizing, and his style and imagery are elegant (“the trees took on a wicked, skeletal form; their branches bent and deformed—skinny fingers that stretched and whipped in the wind”), but at times the complex vocabulary interrupts the smooth flow for the reader when a simpler word would suffice.
The Housekeeper’s Son is a compelling and deeply introspective novel. Through both Eleanor and Victor it touches on many complexities of the mother-son relationship. Ultimately, Victor must face his conflicted feelings toward his own mother; his hours interviewing Eleanor lead him to a surprising resolution. In the unfolding of this redemptive tale, it would appear that Eleanor has saved more than one mother’s son.
The Housekeeper' Son
by Christopher Loke
Publisher: Jolly Fish Press, LLC
Provo, Utah
Format: Hardcover
Pages: 258
13-Digit ISBN: 978-0-9848801-0-2
Retail Price: $28.99
Publication Date: May 19, 2012
www.jollyfishpress.com
About the Author (from the book):
Christopher Loke received his MA in communications and
journalism from Utah State University. Raised in a
traditional Chinese family, Christopher spent most of
his childhood evenings listening to his relatives tell stories
to each other. In time, he has acquired an ardor for
well-told stories, particularly those that tend to touch
the human heart, which sparked the beginning of his writing career.
Christopher currently resides in a quiet neighborhood
near a lake in Provo, Utah, with his beloved wife and a
Okay, I'm easing into the new vocabulary here. For several years I've understood download. It's something you do with photos and music and information files you see on the internet and want to load onto your own computer. You can also find software manuals and other vital information to download with just a few clicks. Downloading is great. It's empowering. It's efficient.
Upload: That's a newer concept for me. You take a file of your own and send it to a website on the internet. That can be a little daunting until you get used to it. Millions have uploaded video clips onto Youtube, though.On Facebook or a blog you can post a comment and/or picture. That's an upload. You can also go to an organization's contest webpage and paste an essay, short story, etc. into a designated box. With one click it's launched, and although you cringe at the thought of judges reading it, you can't take it back.
Then there's sending money to your kids. I suppose that's an upload, too. With one son living abroad, and a small financial matter to solve there, suddenly it wasn't small anymore. We don't bank electronically yet, so it was a very involved and expensive process to try to move funds from our bank to his bank via phone. it involved a lot of time and a hefty charge, and the funds wouldn't be available to him for several days.
When I recently visited him in Finland, he made a purchase on his Master Card that I had planned to pay for. I wanted to reimburse him. Well. I didn't have the correct password for my credit union account, so no luck there. At home, my husband had already tried to cover it online by sending funds from our bank to his (see above), with no success.
Hmmmm. Hey, how about reimbursing him in Euros? I had some in my wallet.
No, that wouldn't work, he said. That led to some head scratching on my part. I couldn't just put the cash in his hand? "You mean," I finally said, the lightbulb going off in my head, "that you have an online bank and you don't use real money, so these Euros would be useless to pay that credit card charage?"
Bingo. So . . . if I wrote a check and mailed it to his online bank, that would work, but it would take time to go through the mail and show up in his account. He'd heard you could take a digital photo of a check and sometimes an online bank would accept that, but we still looked for other solutions.
Then I thought of PayPal. It was worth a try. So, with a smaller transaction fee than our bank would have charged (because of the foreign currency conversion, I think), within seconds I was able to send the funds from my PayPal account to his bank. Within seconds the Master Card bill was covered. It was that simple.
So I learned one way to upload money. Not that it's going to happen again anytime soon, but it's good to know different ways to do it.
Now we come to offload. Sitting at one of the many airports I visited going to and from Finland, I heard an occasional announcement like this: "Mr. John Jones, your flight to Taiwan is about to depart. Please report to the gate or your luggage will be offloaded."
From the free online dictionary (if you click on the icon, a disembodied voice says the word):
off·load or off-load(ôfld, f-)
v.off·load·ed or off-load·ed, off·load·ing or off-load·ing, off·loads or off-loads
v.tr.
1. To unload (a vehicle or container).
2. Computer Science To transfer (data) to a peripheral device.
3. Slang To get rid of and pass on to another: "He does come close to offloading some of the blame for the launch on . . . the dear old media"(Meg Greenfield).
v.intr.
To unload a vehicle or container.
Speaking of offloads and airports: One interesting observation about the airports I visited in Europe: they are quieter than airports in the US. CNN doesn't broadcast continually (in fact, nothing does, imagine that), and boarding calls aren't blasted on the PA system every few minutes. I guess they expect people to find the correct gate, sit down, and pay attention. At the gate, the announcements don't reverberate throughout the whole terminal. A novel concept. I appreciated the relative quiet at those airports. If you have a long layover, constant noise can be stressful.
Speaking of airports, I heard something in Amsterdam that made me wonder who was in dire straits. An announcement came over the entire terminal's PA system, spoken by an employee with a Chinese accent: "We are looking for a passenger who can speak English and Russian to translate for us. Please report to Gate B-9 immediately."
Anyway, back to the new terms: I can now use the following three words with some degree of confidence: upload, download, and offload. May your uploads be successful, your downloads helpful and rewarding, and your offloads nonexistent.
Like the myth that we only use 10% of our brains, the idea that 93% of communication is non-verbal stubbornly persists because people just won't shut up about it. However, the real figure is believed to be about 60-70%, which means body language is still more important than spoken words in getting your point across. Sometimes the signals we send are natural symptoms of how we really feel, and sometimes they're completely unintentional and unwanted. Hopefully you aren't making every mistake on this list, but here are 44 common ways your body may be talking behind your back.
On a Date
Crowding them: Personal space means just that. Find the right balance between being seductively close to your date and stepping on their toes the entire night, or else they will think you are desperate. And nothing kills romance like a whiff of desperation.
10-foot pole: On the other hand, if you are overly concerned with keeping plenty of breathing room between you and your partner, they may become self-conscious or think that you are aloof and uninterested.
Crossing your arms: Ladies, if you don't want a guy to think you don't like him, resist the urge to cross your arms and jut your hips out. For fellas, crossed arms imply arrogance, annoyance, or boredom, all messages you probably want to avoid.
Leaning too far in: Just like with shaking hands, there's a fine line between appearing interested and breathing down your date's throat at the table. You'll come off needy or aggressive.
Holding your drink too high: When's the last time you wondered how the way you hold your drink affects your "vibe?" Holding it close to the body and protectively says you're shy, while holding it with crossed arms is an ice-queen pose.
Nodding too much: You want your girl to know you're right with her in the conversation, so you're nodding constantly. Ironically, people can take this to mean you're faking interest and are some kind of phony.
At Work
Shaking hands too hard: We get it, a firm handshake means confidence. But we'd much rather discover that you are self-assured by speaking to you than having our fingers crushed.
Weak handshake: It's tough to say which is worse, the too-hard or the too-weak handshake. Men and women equate a weak grip with weak character, which neither a boss nor a romantic interest find desirable.
Wearing the wrong clothes: Clothes are a part of body language you ignore at your own peril in the business world. Clothes too baggy, too ratty, too sexy, too wrinkled: all of these tell employers you are not responsible enough to work for them.
Ignoring people: A presenter has no way of knowing that you are taking notes on your iPhone, not texting or scrolling Facebook, and is liable to think you are being extremely rude. Use a pen and paper to avoid a miscommunication.
Preening: Gussying up has its place in the mating world, but in a business environment straightening your tie or patting down hair makes people think you're vain or arrogant.
Not gesturing: When making a presentation, if your arms are too still people will be off-put and think you're nervous, even if you aren't. If you're not a natural gesticulator, force yourself to incorporate a bit of gesturing.
Over-gesturing: On the other hand, a recent survey of hiring managers found gesturing with the hands too much was in the top five of reasons employers would be less likely to hire an applicant, so don't overdo it.
Turning your back on the audience: Make sure you practice your business presentation enough that you don't need to turn to look at the screen behind you, simply because no one wants to look at your behind.
Not looking at everyone: Nobody likes to feel ignored. If you have a job interview with multiple interviewers, even if one never asks you a question, be sure to regularly make eye contact with him or her.
For Women
The Scissors Stance: Crossing the legs while standing is typically a female thing. It may be fine in social situations, but don't do it at work because it implies submission, vulnerability, and even negativity.
The partial arm cross: This is another entry from the world of women. Grabbing one arm with the other hand is like a one-armed hug for yourself, and it tells people you need calming down or reassurance.
Tilting your head: Some of you ladies may be guilty of sending the wrong signal to male coworkers by tilting your head to the side while listening to them. They are probably seeing that as a flirtatious move, even if you only mean to convey agreement.
For Men
Not shaving: Guys who don't shave regularly run the risk of being perceived as lazy and sloppy, not ideal qualities in an employee or a boyfriend.
The Figure Four: In this position, you sit with one leg crossed over the other at a 90-degree angle. It may be comfortable but it implies a competitive attitude and, when coupled with the "hand clamp" (holding the crossed leg with both hands), it conveys stubborn intransigence.
Cracking your knuckles: For one thing, the sound of cracking knuckles is disgusting to everyone within earshot who isn't you. It's also seen as a macho-poser move for guys.
Sitting
Sitting on the edge of your seat: Athletes on the bench of a losing team sit forward because they're tense and nervous. If you do this in a job interview or on a date you'll look the same way.
The Ankle Lock: Courtroom defendants are three times as likely as plaintiffs to sit with ankles locked before a trial. It's a blatant defense mechanism that gives away the fact you're afraid or uncertain.
Leaning back: Leaning back in your chair says, "Keep talking, boss/girlfriend; I'm just going to get comfortable while you blather about earnings/your day."
Tap dancing: If you just have lots of energy and bounce your knees or tap your feet without realizing it, you may want to train yourself to stop. Tapping feet or hands signify impatience, nervousness, or boredom.
Standing
Shifting weight: When you have to stand to give a presentation or are at a bar, you may get tired and need to shift your weight from one foot to the other. This may instinctively look like weakness to others.
Pocketed hands: Take comfort in the fact that nobody else knows what to do with their hands either. So remove your mitts from your pants pockets because it looks like you're indifferent or unconfident.
Walking small: Politicians walk with big strides because doing so exudes energy and confidence. If you walk slowly or shuffle people will associate it with uncertainty and weakness.
Hunching your shoulders: Poor posture and slouching suggests to onlookers that you have no spine, literally and figuratively. Even if you aren't feeling it, you can fake confidence just by sitting up straight.
Eyes
Rapid-fire blinking: If you're excessively blinking because you've got a contact out of place or something, people may think you're uncomfortable or arrogant, as if you're too important to even look at them.
Hawk eyes: Squinting can be a good way to convey keen focus on what someone else is saying, but it can also be mistakenly interpreted as distrust or uncertainty over the accuracy of what the other person said.
Staring: Blinking is natural; long periods of looking at someone without blinking weirds people out and can convey aggression or even dishonesty.
Searching for inspiration: If you look around before you open your mouth or while you're speaking, you're non-verbally saying you don't really know what you're talking about.
Looking for the exit: If you're shy and have trouble making eye contact, it could be a problem. If your lady friend is telling you all about her job as a dental hygienist and you're looking anywhere but in her eyes, she'll think you're bored and wanting to bail.
Saying hi to your shoes: You have to bow your head to look down, and if you do that in an interaction with someone, you've just silently told them you submit to their authority.
General
Feeling your face: When you're nervous, you may get the urge to touch your face or rub the back of your neck. These are sure-fire ways to let everyone know you're nervous, so avoid them.
Letting your mood determine your body language: If you let it, your emotions will seep out through your body language. But you can flip this around by forcing yourself to smile, for example, and your mood actually will improve.
Checking the time: Looking at your watch may be a completely innocent act of seeing what time it is. Nevertheless, it's almost impossible for a person you're speaking with to not interpret it as you being bored.
Biting your nails: You may only be doing it out of habit and boredom, but the message people get when they see you biting your nails is that you're anxious.
Letting them see you sweat: You might be nervous, but unless they can smell you or you're in a white shirt, the best way to ensure they know you're nervous is to visibly wipe your sweaty palms on your pants. Just leave them alone and try to relax.
Pursed lips: Your lips may be giving you away without words coming though them. Pursing your lips can convey distrust or disapproval.
Yawning: You're exhausted from a late night yesterday. But hide your yawns or conversation partners will be positive they're boring you and will be offended.
Misusing Body Language
Attributing too much to one signal: Did someone pass you in the hallway and not return your smile? Don't make the mistake of automatically thinking they hate your guts; there's probably another explanation.
Not getting the message: Is it possible people have been non-verbally telling you that you have bad breath or that you're on thin ice? The body language mistake you're making is not reading the signs, so open your eyes!
.gif)
l
d
, 
f
Like the myth that we only use 10% of our brains, the idea that 93% of communication is non-verbal stubbornly persists because people just won't shut up about it. However, the real figure is believed to be about 60-70%, which means body language is still more important than spoken words in getting your point across. Sometimes the signals we send are natural symptoms of how we really feel, and sometimes they're completely unintentional and unwanted. Hopefully you aren't making every mistake on this list, but here are 44 common ways your body may be talking behind your back.
