I’ve no desire to write what the social narrative is currently pushing people to write. There is a lot of fabricated cultural construction going on and it’s largely based on clever configurations of words.
Words are powerful. Right now, they are weaving their way through conversations, across tv screens, into school curriculums, and onto political platforms. And they are woven together in ways that intrigue, tantalise, draw in, and hook. They serve to win over hearts and minds for specific causes and purposes. They are webs largely propagated by the World Wide Web in order to ensnare.
Because I am a words person, there are days when I hear too many words and my brain can’t keep up. This is when overwhelm can kick in. Why? Well, I muse over words. I say them. I like to savour their rhythms, intonations, combinations and meanings in the same way another might savour a fine wine or a favourite meal. Words mean something to me. So when I see words being used as weapons, it angers me.
At the beginning of time, words were the messengers of life. They travelled like light across dark expanses and created. Words co-laboured with Love to bring about the multiverse, and those words came from The Word Himself. And then, later, The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. He still dwells among us.
These days, stopping and reflecting over the words I have taken in during the course of a day is a sometimes draining habit I have, but I no longer see it as a kind of disability; it has actually enabled me to reflect on what my eyes and ears have been taking in—like the combinations of words used, as well as their meanings. Some days I ask people for clarification regarding their words, and other days, I allow the words to just ‘be’. But some days, I switch off my phone screen, shut down my computer, and sit beside water or under a tree and watch the clouds drift by.
There is stillness in creation moments. Words are still in those moments, but they fully inhabit the living things around me. There is no twisting a bird into the definition of a dog, no anger at the water for being water, and the trees embody exactly the words that were spoken out about then at the beginning of time. Yes, there is stillness there. No wrestling things to fit words that were not made for them.
And as for today? I will be driving into work in a few minutes and I will likely see yet another beautiful golden sunrise. And I will savour the words ‘thank you’ before I whisper them to The Word for the beautiful moments He has given to me.
Photo by Romain Vignes
Because Souls Are Like Gardens 