A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver.
Words are colossal. Words have real power.
Words have made me smile. Words have congratulated me. Words have counseled me. Words have given me that harsh critic such that i think every one should have a dose once in a while. My favourite words are engraved in my soul, if one pops the rhythm never stops until all is recorded. That's where my story begins and that's where my moonlight rhythm ends. These are my words. This is my story, this is what i want my words to do to you. Listen, read through but also show me your words.Savor my plate and let me have a taste of yours too.
Moving on. I met my childhood friend a few days ago after a long one year separation. When that catching up session presents itself, you never know how fast time flies and how much progress a person has made in such a short metamorphosis.So we sat there reminiscing on those good old days when walking barefoot was not a big deal and herding cattle was a chore that made us learn all those Jackie Chan martial arts. Not forgetting the dreaded parental whip and stories by the fire place. All that made us to who we are now - humble beginnings are never to be despised.
My friend has been doing so well for himself. Got a degree, started his own company and now he is enjoying the fruits of his hard earned labour. The sea of life is not always smooth, we all have our stories. Being a second born in a family of seven, he was never given as much attention as he wanted; and when the attention was there the aureole was but a negative vibe. He grew with this all his life and despite 'having made it in life' you can still see the fear.
Fear to express freely lest prodigious words get back at him. Fear of standing up and owning what he wants. Fear that his words are not good enough. Fear of being the failure. Having a twenty plus bond, i know him well, but does the world attest the same? Even with words of praise, applause and appreciation are being passed from every corner, solace is far from being engraved close to him.
We are different. Some of us are stoic others are light hearted and fall down with the first words. I remember one time, he did not make it to the cut of students who would go to the Mathematics Congress. The parents were so disappointed, the guy never spoke a word for almost a week. I stand to be corrected when i say, physical wounds leave marks that will one day fade away or remain to show us that we conquered; but verbal wounds are a life long yoke. The imprint cannot be erased. The words, thoughts and feeling always lingers.
You may see a man or lady in his thirties or whatever age, quiet and is never in a haste to speak up - the introvert. The ones with self esteem and self acceptance issues. The ones who uses their actions to prove they can do it because they have been told they cannot. The ones whose silence is too loud to be understood. The ones who breakdown in silence and have shaky walls to defend them. Every fruit has a root inception. Word.
I write this post because i am a mother and i want my son to learn from my words. I write this post because i know there are so many out there like my friend who are getting chocked because of words that were passed on when they were young, and the yoke of words is getting heavy by day. I write this post because my friend is not at peace. I can see it. The memories choke him at times but he steadily brushes it off, well until the next choke. I am not a saint, I'm far from it, i am a lover of words. This page is shining with words, that i hope will make a difference. I believe in words and the power they have.
Choose to build or break.To make a difference or stir range. To bring an embrace or to form walls. The choice is yours. Know the power that resides in words you say and how you say them.
Until the next post Gros Bisous!!