[Fyah-l] [Fja:l] [Fjalə]
noun Albanian for ‘Word’ ‘Speech’ ‘Rumor’ ‘Term'
A unit of language, consisting of one or more spoken sounds that functions as a principal carrier of meaning. Homo sapiens developed capacity for fjalë about 50,000 years ago.
- speech or talk that communicates & preserves the spoken and unspoken of the times
- the text or lyrics of a song as distinguished from the music
- a promise, a disagreement, gossip, or news
- a healer of the mind, body, and spirit
- a short talk or conversation
- a conveyor of facts and/or emotions
Examples of stories passed down from one generation to another through fjalë are: history, language, profession, pride, lineage, lyrics, art, remedies, food growing and making, fabric or dress making, child-bearing and raising, land stewardship, shelter and safety, living in harmony with nature, other survival lessons and wisdom.
These stories ultimately offer belonging. There’s no place in world that is better than another, if measured by the love natives carry for their culture and natural environment. This is based on my own experience of exchanging fjalë with natives of over 100 countries. I myself am dual cultured – born and raised in Albania and lived in the United States since a prepubescent age. My sense of belonging is split down the middle between both nations. And natives from each respectively attribute my sense of belonging to them or despite of them. I find it fascinating and human. It’s normal that a tribe often either claims or relinquishes its members. There’s hardly a middle ground drawn out unless you are in the middle. And if you are, this is the place for you because the middle exists in the eye of the beholder. Being 'in the middle' offers a unique perspective, an addition instead of a subtraction.
I invite you to share your fjalë here. This site is a common place for us 'in the middle', a conduit for connection and following streaks of curiosity that promote healthy living and belonging.
How to become a member?
Membership is free. Simply subscribe to the mailing list. Your free membership grants you access to have your content displayed on this site.
How can you get involved?
You may donate your time and skills toward creating more content for the site and/ or contributing to current projects. Regarding monetary donations, a donation is not expected, and no donation is too small. But the purpose of this site is offering connection, not exploitation.
Does it interest you to get involved in current projects? Do you possess a special recipe passed down that has a story within it? Is there a children’s story that you have been old many times but that you don't think has been written yet? How about a nursery rhyme? Or a story of belonging or immigration? How about a story about your grandmother’s knitting and quilting or your great grandmother’s handmade fabric or dress? Does your own art reflect a story of 'the middle'? What about proverbs and rules of society that are not necessarily written anywhere as you have heard them? Is there a special natural remedy recipe? How about a sustainable method or two for farming? Or ways of survival in the natural world that span generations? This is a feel-good space but does not mean that trauma cannot be shared. All I ask is that you find a path that can be healing when sharing.
- Share you story with me
- Ask your loved ones to share stories with you
- Ask me to post your stories and related content here for free
- And/or ask me for help with composition of your stories for a small fee
- Contact me for a collaboration on a project or idea
- Contact me with ideas on how to improve this site
My Story, My Fjalë
My second chapter of creativity shifted onto my mind; where I wove dreams of animals and loving them, for decades, and submerged myself into understanding their inner strength. During my first ever opportunity to splurge, I discovered my pleasure of frozen moments, and so moved from my fluid dreams into my photography phase.
I walked for miles, up mountains and down rivers, across countries, and between conflicts, learning about the world, humans, myself, nature, identity and love. And when I thought I had something to compile, I wrote children's books about B E L O N G I N G. And this third phase happened to coincide with my third decade of life.
After my mother left, my heart urged me to keep her garden alive. Not out of obligation, but because the timing felt right. I was in that tender phase of daughterhood where we seek to define ourselves apart from our mothers. If she could build her life, so could I—on my own terms. Ironically, tending the garden drew me closer to her. Through each sprout and harvest, I came to know the rhythms of nature more intimately than ever before. The soil connected me to her mother, my nanadaja, and to the women before her—those who waltzed and skipped across the Northern Albanian mountains, cultivating life with grit and grace. Gardening became a quiet revolution of belonging. It linked me not only to my lineage, but to humanity itself—to anyone who has ever sowed seeds and nurtured growth. Through it, I shared stories, built community, and deepened my appreciation for the simple, sacred act of growing food.
As my fourth decade approached, I set out on a three-month journey through the Western Balkans, seeking clarity amid personal upheaval. My father's sudden cancer diagnosis prompted a deeper search—for my heritage, for understanding, and for healing. With my husband beside me, we left behind routines and responsibilities to hike through Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Kosovo, North Macedonia, and Albania—carrying only what we needed and embracing everything we found. Upon return, I stitched together trail stories, recipes, reflections, and human connections into a tapestry of land, legacy, and love, culminating in The Illyrian Way book that made me a first-time published author. I proudly share it with my family, the resilient people of the Balkans, and you. And may it inspire a spark toward your own version of The Illyrian Way.
Decades later, I remain an amateur enamored with words in verse. And the patient members of the Connecticut Poetry Society tolerate and nurture me.
Poetry in the Preserve (wiltonlandtrust.org)
Wilton-poetry-society-library-meeting
And in between sessions, sometimes I record my voice, reciting. And in between everything else, I take nature walks, propagate plants, dry flowers, paint, host dinners, write lists of things I wish to do, shy away from superficial conversations, take baths, read, and rest. I don't claim to be someone special, and I appreciate the hard work it takes to be creative and to practice inner peace in a noisy world.
I believe in working together to create a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.
For more information about my experience, portfolio or to share ideas about how we can collaborate on an upcoming project, get in touch today. I am happily awaiting your fjalë.
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My earliest memory bleeds red into black, from my mom's typewriter ribbon spool of ink, onto my 6-year-old fingers. I wish I could remember what my first poem was about. I had help with it, but I kept the pride all to myself.