March: Let’s Talk About The Power of Words

In March, I came to understand that words are magical in a way and to a degree that is beyond most people’s awareness. Given everything going on in the world right now—the Palestine/Israel situation, Russia versus Ukraine, Trump versus Biden, the death of Nex Benedict and the global attack on LGBTQIA+ lives—2024 is a particularly dangerous time to be unaware of true power of words.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” I heard this adage countless times as a child from many well-intentioned adults, but now that I am a well-intentioned adult myself I can see that this phrase is an incomplete thought at best. It was packaged like a universal rule of thumb, but it doesn’t actually contain any universal truths—not about words nor the wounds they create. Instead, it urges you to diminish the power you perceive words to carry and to undervalue the pain of verbal wounds. The missing words should go something like: “…until time reveals some wounds didn’t heal, even after the voices were forgotten.”

At the beginning of March, one of the audiobooks I’m listening to (Spirit Hacks by Shaman Durek) elaborated on how singing song lyrics to yourself over and over is ultimately a form of chanting and how consciously repeating words reprograms your subconscious. I have struggled to listen to some of my favorite music selections, albums, and songs that I’ve loved for years, since listening to that one ~15 minute segment. All it took was one 15 minute segment from a book and now many of the songs, albums, and playlists that I’ve been listening to for years are no longer enjoyable, no longer bearable.

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will rob you of the will to get back up. I think of someone I love who claims to have forgiven their sibling for past transgressions only to repeat old quotes from said sibling as justification to succumb to self-doubt. I remember in 2020 being lectured by someone I considered to be a mentor, a sports coach from my childhood, about how foolish it was to lament over Trump’s hate-filled speeches and outbursts “because he’s just one person with no real power.” Anyone who diminishes the power of words also lacks awareness regarding how powerful their own words already are.

If you understand that the placebo effect is a scientifically repeatable phenomenon, then you have some understanding of the power of awareness and how it influences the physical world. When you consider words as being organized bundles of awareness, their true power starts to become more evident. Not every thought can be expressed with words, but it is hard to value thoughts that I haven’t assigned words to. And similarly, thoughts become more valuable as soon as I find the words to express it. All of the physical products that humans have ever produced began as a word in one person’s head. The only difference between the walls in your mind and the walls in the hallway is that you’re the only one who can see both.

In the same way that a trickle of water forms grand canyons in stone, words carve pathways through the landscape of your mind, defining and forming the behaviors you play out in the world. Last month I talked about your reality being the manifestation of your perspective. Said with more granularity, words decide if the movie playing in your mind is experienced as a comedy or a tragedy.

Listening is voluntary, but hearing isn’t. As your perspective grows, and as your awareness expands, so does the power of the words you go on to say. As your words become more poignant and more aligned with the truth that they represent, it becomes harder and harder not just to hear but harder and harder not to listen.

Words are the non-physical part of your self, your mind, focusing itself through the lens of your awareness into something not quite tangible but ‘real’ enough to be turned into sound, into vibrations in the physical world. It was words that convinced you that your thoughts alone can’t change the physical world, that life is supposed to be hard, that your words don’t matter. But as I reflect on my experiences in March, particularly since my birthday, I find myself hearing different words as I consider my dreams and how achievable they are.

I was deeply anti-religious and anti-spiritual for the vast majority of my life, despite growing up in a Southern Baptist family going to church almost every Sunday. For as long as I can remember I wanted to embody the faith my family spoke of, thinking it’d be easier to fit in if I aligned with their beliefs. But it simply never happened. When I started activism in June 2020, though, I started noticing once-in-a-lifetime coincidences happenings at an accelerating cadence. And on April 23rd, 2021, I firmly decided I needed to find better words to explain what I was experiencing. Everyday I kept realizing I was no longer comfortable with yesterday’s answers to existential questions like “how effectively can I connect with a stranger” or “how difficult is change, really” or “how many lives can I impact?”

My first leap of faith was to delete the word “coincidence” from my vocabulary entirely and instead use the phrase “tiny miracle”. And every coincidence tiny miracle is a sign from the Universe. The tiny miracles I’ve seen since my birthday have been particularly striking.

In January, I left a viewing of Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream Speech” fixated on the fact that one of the most influential speeches ever given is only 17 minutes long. Practicing a 30-minute speech in one go feels impossible. So, instead I compared the word length of my new speech to another one I’d previously delivered—“Great, I have a 30 minute speech”. I use the teleprompter function in the iPad Pages app when I speak; I divided my speeches’ word count by 30, set the word-per-minute speed accordingly, and again think to myself “Great, I I have a 30 minute speech”. The morning of, the usual self-doubt shows up asking, “Are you sure this speech about believing you can change the world is going to land with college students?” I was the keynote speaker at Arizona State University’s Next Generation Service Corps annual conference with ~400 students present. I step into the venue and there are signs posted on the walls “…change the world…” The girl who introduced me hadn’t possibly seen my speech, and yet her introduction had at least three key phrases or sentences almost directly from my speech. By the time I got on stage, I was so amped I had to hold the podium to keep still; I knew there was no chance of flopping. I finished the engagement and went home, certain I had delivered a 30 minute speech. Several days later, I decided to upload the recording to YouTube before leaving for work. I got to my office and checked the length—16:58.

Bird photography is one of my favorite hobbies. If I leave my house five times hoping to find any given bird, I really only expect to find said bird once. On my birthday, I woke up early and left home headed to a new location hoping to photograph a bird I’d never seen in the wild. I showed up, got my tripod setup, and looked around for all of five minutes. Took a pause and thought to myself, “Hopefully one will just…” and sure enough, a beautiful bald eagle swooped in from over the trees, glides over the lake, and lands on the single most perfect branch possible. 20 minute later I decided I’d seen enough. And since I had finished an hour early, I decided to test my luck at another location that I visit regularly—a spot where my kids can play, I can meditate, and there’s a plethora of wildlife to photograph. I hadn’t seen owls here in at least two years, but “hey it’s my birthday”. As I approached with my camera in hand, an old lady pointed at my 600mm telephoto lens—“Impressive!” I notice she’s wearing a pair of binoculars around her neck—“Have you seen anything interesting out here today?” She goes, “Oh there’s an owl right over here!” and walks me directly over to a beautifully perched sleeping owl. I go home already elated only to find my family overjoyed in the backyard. My kids had found a beautiful salamander, yet another wild animal for me to photograph.

My birthday dinner was at home, and my wife and kids were joined by Pam (mother-in-law), Chris (her boyfriend), and Wendy (wife’s aunt). Happy Birthday was sung over a homemade cake. Both boys leaned in to blow out the candles, and Hendrix (3.5) got upset when Brixton (5) blew out more candles than he did—he immediately tucked his face into the back of his seat and started to pout. I noticed and immediately reached for a lighter. As I went to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll light a candle for you”, Brixton waved his hands and a single candle reignited. I look at Sydney in disbelief, “Did you buy…?” — “No, these aren’t trick candles!” — “Chris, did you get that on video?” — "Yes!”

I’m awful at sleeping and have been avoiding TV screens 30-45 minutes before bed hoping to dream again. I’ve been filling the gap by practicing tarot cards. I use the term Universe like a Catholic says God, and I believe you can use divination tools to tap into the infinite awareness floating around us. It’s less about foretelling the future and more about discerning the hidden messages that connect the tiny miracles. On a random Tuesday night as I put my cards away I said to myself, “I need a better book”—a better reference guide. Also, quite randomly, I said to myself, “I’m ready for a pendulum. Tomorrow when I’m back to screens, I’m going to buy a new book and a pendulum.” The next morning, I’m choosing my accessories for the day and think to myself, “I need more red crystals. I want a red crystal bracelet. And I need another red crystal. I just need more red crystal stuff.” I get to work that day and meet up with a friend I hadn’t seen in a month. She hands me a paper bag, a birthday gift two weeks after the fact—a pendulum, a red crystal, a red crystalized wood bracelet, and two books.

During one of my first in-person anti-racism workshops, I felt connected with a Native American woman who sat front and center. Afterwards, she shared a beautiful story about meeting her spirit animal, a wolf, as part of her coming-of-age ceremony; her words helped me lean into my budding spirituality, as I was still growing comfortable with the newness of my own thoughts. Recently, she randomly crossed my mind, and for several days I pondered where I’d put her business card that had her contact info. Sure enough, I see her while she was visiting a work office she rarely visits. We immediately hugged and scheduled a lunch during the next week. Several moments stand out to me from the weekend prior to our lunch: pondering how to add fruit back into my morning routine, wanting to smoke a brisket, Sydney commenting on my growing crystal collection and telling her I need to get a new storage dish. My friend arrives at our lunch table with a paper bag—“I brought gifts!” Typically I wait to open presents in private as I’m rarely outwardly excited enough for the giver, but this time I felt comfortable. The first thing I pull out is a jar of peaches she’d picked and jarred herself; at my first career job I was known as “Peaches” because I ate a can of them every morning at my desk. Next, I pull out a jar of homemade strawberry jam; it’s become a familial tradition to eat “brisket biscuits” with artisanal jam the morning after smoking a brisket. I pull out a jewelry box containing beautiful red and yellow, beaded, Native American earrings that I absolutely love—it felt as if the Universe was fulfilling my previous request for “more red jewelry”. There was a small tube of caffeinated eye-cream, as if she had heard me thinking about wanting to do something about the wary bags under my eyes. And lastly I pull out an antique, moon-shaped, glass bowl that she’d customized beautifully, creating a smoke-like pattern with colored resin and tiny gold stars—perfect for storing crystals. Of course I was gobsmacked; by the time I finished sharing this story with Sydney, her chin fell all the way to her chest!

I enjoy articulating new ways of defining “spirituality”. My latest favorite: the act of purging my thoughts of the words of others and replacing them with words that more closely express my own personal truths as a means of freeing myself from the limiting beliefs preventing me from experiencing the full extent of the Universe’s guidance. That sounds crazy until you start noticing tiny miracles in your life.

Anyone who questions the power of words simply hasn’t experienced their full potential. When you realize that your personal truths could be the answers to society’s problems, finding the words to express your self takes new importance. Listening is voluntary, but hearing is not. The better you get at instilling power into your words—the ones you share with others and those that you keep to yourself— the harder you will be to ignore. The future doesn’t exist until you create it, and it is hard to know the value of stories you’ve never told. Don’t let the magic of your life be diminished by someone else’s explanation of what’s possible. Instead, let’s talk about the power of words.