The Power of Words in Perilous Times
BY TOMMY HOUSWORTH
So we find ourselves trapped in the amber of the moment, looking for the words that will somehow comfort, reassure, or perhaps even point toward healing. And yet, in moments of great uncertainty and anguish, our natural inclination is to retaliate like that child, all tantrums and tempests.
It is a common parental behest designed to encourage toddlers to express themselves with a modicum of verbal elegance instead of throwing a tantrum or resorting to physical violence. “Use your words,” they say. Express yourself. Tell me how you are feeling.
As a person who uses words for livelihood and lifeblood, I am wildly guilty of misusing them. Ask Wendy, the daughter of a journalist who reminded his children that words – and the precision of words – matter. So, she will point it out when I exaggerate to make a point or reach for the not-quite-right word. Not to embarrass me but to reacquaint me with my purpose: to use words for good.
That’s why I’m here. I’m sure of it. To use words for good. However limited my prosaic toolbox, I believe it rattles and thuds with tools meant to build, not dismantle. Some days, I struggle with this because many things in the world make little sense, and I incline to lash out, to use words to tear down. To condescend rather than hearten.
On other days, words fail me altogether. On days when ignorance or intentionality causes a global market crash, when those who attend to the needs of veterans, children, the mentally ill, and the disabled are abruptly fired, when Harriet Tubman’s name is removed in association with the Underground Railroad, replacing her contribution with the phrase “Black and White cooperation.” Words fail me, because I’ve never needed words for such things.
I choose words carefully to avoid “being political” in public, to avoid controversy and divisiveness, and yet, I can’t ignore the unnecessary suffering, grief, and fearfulness I see. I can’t respond to intentional cruelty with a Vonnegutian “…So it goes.” How do I use what Buddhists call “right speech” when confronted with a relative who says, “f**k your feelings,” or with Nero’s nephew, content to watch Rome burn all over again?
Recently, I have amassed half-written pieces on the nostalgia of concert tickets and the spiritual relevance of the Beat Generation, and yet to finish and post these writings feels like playing my fiddle while Rome…yeah. Look at that. I’m repeating analogies. Use your words, Tommy.
I’ve also written social media posts designed to damn and demonize. I’ve pulled a verbal arrow from my quiver, set it ablaze, and then…then, I hit “delete” because there’s no such thing as Schadenfreude when you believe in interdependence.
That’s why I’m obstinately certain we can still, somehow, use words to build rather than destroy. We can reconstruct at least a semblance of connection, perhaps not between sparring parties (that ship has sailed…or sunk), or across this national divide, these formerly united states, but at least across the sidewalk to someone who is feeling lost, scared, or disenfranchised by the world, their nation, or their neighbors. Those people need our words now, indelibly coupled with our actions.
Maybe some words can still encourage resilience and reconciliation. Maybe. There are certainly words that discourage them. I read them daily. Some days, I mutter them myself. Anger and grief are appropriate – even moral – responses to injustice and vindictiveness. How we construct the words around those feelings makes a difference, even if only in our own heads. When we feel hopeless, we need words of hope, no matter how hollow they may seem to ring. It is not fruitless to cling to hope – be it born of a particular faith, the promise of a poem, or the stubborn insistence of nature, showing us what it means to weather storms and, from them, even grow a bit.
The challenge with words is they fall short without evidence to back them up. A pretty sermon or persuasive TED Talk means little if we can’t see how the words are built on a sturdy foundation. I’m still working on earning the right to craft such words, but in times like these, I find value and comfort in the words of those who have walked through fires and storms. Anne Frank, Nelson Mandela, Temple Grandin, Sojourner Truth, Epictetus, the Dalai Lama, John Lewis, Mark Twain, Maya Angelou, Leonard Peltier, Frida Kahlo, and Rosa Parks. I can look to these people for words built on something more than the conjecture of hope. These are people who struggled, suffered, and survived. And that means something. And so, their words mean something.
The words we use right now, with our ourselves and one another, matter more than we know.
The words we use right now keep us going or take us out.
The words we use right now strike sparks or extinguish the waning light.
The words we use right now illuminate truths, though liars abound.
The words we use right now invite action when action is needed most.
The words we use right now are the planks of a bridge, set down one at a time.
The words we use right now are our love language and our codes from the underground.
The words we use right now are a catharsis of anguish and a hymn to what we still hold sacred.
The words we use right now are the stories we need to survive.
The words we use right now are the stories we need to share.
The words we use right now matter.
Choose the ones that keep you going…and help others keep going.
As the Zen parable teaches, “When discouraged, encourage others.”
Use your words.
