Within my imagination,
there is a struggle of constantly wanting to write but not knowing what to
write about. Am I writing to pass the time or because I have something to say?
How do I add value to
the universe with my words and not just take up space better used by something
else-- by a conversation, or a news item, or a song? Why do I feel the
need to make words that are music for the eyes and food for the brain and fuel
for the imagination?
Words can be tattoos
on the mind, more permanent than ink on skin, than an etch in stone. They can
be life-changing, life-directing, even life-giving. But what are words if they
are not received? A word of wisdom falling on deaf ears is a precious gem
dropped on the floor. Where does it go? Does it roll under the dresser, never
to be found again? Or if another is nearby and sees it fall, does it still hold
the same value if that person picks it up? It’s diamonds to one but coal to
another.
Words can be poison,
the most insidious kind--a little sting, over and over again until it breaks
the skin. It’s the kind of poison that seeps into the marrow quietly, changing
the way the blood flows, until one day the uncomfortable ache becomes
unbearable agony. Where did this come from? Nobody remembers the origin story.
Nobody was paying attention when the first word found its mark.
Words can build, but it’s
disheartening how many more words it takes to build than it takes to destroy.
If you must speak hard words, layer them with kind ones.
There’s not
necessarily safety in numbers – thousands of untrue words repeated over and
over hold a thimbleful of water that leaks out slowly. A man would die of
thirst in a lake of insincere words but feed for a week on a single morsel of
truth.
Sometimes it’s not the
words themselves, it’s the method of delivery. Are they issued forth from
the lips of a loved one, scribbled in the margin next to other words, or
overheard in secret? Some words aren’t meant for us but we receive them anyway.
Impassioned words incite nations to war. Make people believe your words and they
will die for you.
Words mean everything and nothing. Entire conversations occur in
silence. In the blink of an eye, the story can be rewritten between an inhale
and an exhale.
So what does it come down to?
Say only the words you
mean and never be afraid to let the silence speak for itself.
Today these are my words. What are yours?
Posts
