Words. Words. Words. Fantastical little beasts around which my world revolves. They are the basis of my very livelihood. The basis for so much in life. And yet they are nothing in and of themselves. They are only as good as the intent behind them and the actions that follow.
Some speak eloquently, some with a fumbled tongue. And yet, often more beauty rests behind the words that tumble clumsily from one’s lips due to being rarely said; their newness preventing fluidity. Words that emerge from another in this fashion have their own beauty. The intent lies naked, as does the emotions that forced the expression.
And then there are words spoken like a melody. Poignant. Rhythmic. They fall onto the ear like pixie dust that lights the heart on fire. Writer’s by virtue of their occupation often offer such words. And I have to imagine one might have cause to wonder if what’s being spoken is just another display of one’s skill or the mixture of the sincere truth held in their heart spoken through the filter of their talent. It all depends on whom is speaking.
How to know, I can not truly say other than to watch the actions that follow. I was told recently that my written words are pretty. I would like to think that’s because there is something pretty within me. And my words bounce off that and echo who I am. We are never allowed full access to the inner being of another. It is one’s personal safe haven; theirs, and theirs alone. As it should be. So watch one’s actions. Actions mirror the intent. Intent mirrors the truth. Unless when denying one’s truth, this is always the case.
I very rarely recoil at the sound of an obscene word, in and of itself. It is only the cluster of letters. Its power, or lack thereof, rests in its intent. As do the words, I love you. Again, another string of letters. Its definition is revealed over time. Its revealed through gestures, it’s revealed through actions both spontaneous and routine.
It could very well be that words mean too much to me. I find them to be the intoxicating elixir of life. Words that are sung, words that are written, words that are spoken – they shape our world – they often shape our perception of another.
Whether you use these little beasts to express your soul in written prose, lyrics or rhyme, or to merely speak to another, be conscientious of what you speak. As someone may be listening. And when it comes to listening, use both your ears and your eyes; like wine, allow the words to breathe, come to life, infused with action. Sometimes words spoken are remembered lovingly or painfully years later. Sometimes they protect one’s delicate sensibilities. Sometimes they are the liberation of one’s soul. Words can shift one’s fate. They have the power to pull one back from the edge of despair, or release one’s finger hold onto hope. Sometimes they are just there to make us smile.
So, speak your truth. And speak well. Never stay silent when silence isn’t within you.