“A word after a word after a word is power.”
― Margaret Atwood
― Margaret Atwood
Words have always possessed a
mysterious and infectious power for me. I’m not exactly sure when this
initially took root, but I imagine it dates back to many overlapping instances
that each contributed to who I am today.
One of the first stories I ever
wrote revolved around a boy who was assigned the difficult task of naming all
that existed around him. His circumstances, his environment, events both
painful and exhilarating, birthed the beautiful process of naming. It’s how he grew
to understand the world. As a maybe-ten-year-old, I imagine this young boy’s
story was closely linked to my own.
Or perhaps my fascination and
reverence for words came alive during a rowdy dinner table moment. I had three
older sisters and often our conversations tilted toward the profane. Wearing
thin of this, my parents tried something new one night. They invited us to, on
the count of three, yell out our favorite curse word. One. Two. Three. At
maybe-ten-years-old, I let the F-word fly. Everyone else kept their traps shut
so my F-bomb shot out like a solo grenade. I think my parents were intending to
strip profanity of its brassy lure. I get it. But something else stuck with me
that night. Words have impact.
Some words I wear like scars.
Others I have tucked so far deep down inside me, they’ve ossified like bone because
they’ve meant that much.
Words are exquisite. Volatile.
Heartbreaking. Tender. Blades and balm. They evoke all kinds of reactions and
interpretations. They are our primary way of communicating, of speaking both
love and hate.
I’ve grown quite attached to
words, the way they bend and shift inside my mind. The way I can spill them on
a page, then fold them up origami-style, reveling how they change shape. And
meaning. Words can mutate and blossom. They can multiply exponentially or
shrivel within a second.
As I age, I’ve learned to be
more careful with what I say, more discerning.
I share all of this to drive
home one point.
Words brush against the sacred
for me.
You can do a lot to me. Much has
been done already. I rebound with fire in my soul.
But do not take away my words.
These words—they are how I
understand this world. I am free in them. And I have every intention of staying
that way.
“A word after a word after a word is power.”
― Margaret Atwood
― Margaret Atwood
*I’ll be back in a few weeks. Merry Christmas!