They're just words—or are they?

Today, a young woman left a very thoughtful and thought-provoking comment in an earlier post on rose-colored glasses.

...I love writing and reading but at this stage of my life it really doesn't do anything to ease the injustices of global issues such as famine and poverty. Which is the same for everyone with creative pursuits (and often non-creative too)!  

I'm even considering giving up studying philosophy and literature to do something to help the world more directly, like somehow defending human rights without becoming a lawyer! 

Serendipitously, a friend of mine posted a link on Facebook that led me to discover this video.


When you watched it, did you notice the woman didn't give the blind beggar any coins? She has a gift for words, and she knew how to meet his need with it. She rewrote the man's sign, putting it in terms that pierced the consciences of passers-by and awakened appreciation for the sight they have that he does not.


"It's a beautiful day, and I can't see it."


That's what moved people and unclogged an outpouring of generosity. Did it cost the woman anything? Not in cents, but in the time she took to prepare her gift for that moment in time. Even when she had no way of knowing that one day she could be useful in just that way.


As a child I scoffed at "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." Sure they did! A lot! They weren't "just" words. They got me in trouble. Still do. (In my dotage, of course, I realize that the sticks-and-stones strategy was meant to insulate a child from taunting meanies/older siblings picking on you. Not that it ever worked for me.)


I have this reverence for healthy fear of words. It's not unlike the respect a snake charmer has for the coiled critter. Maybe it's part of why I reserve my cussing for crisis-level situations. I hate to waste a crispy "FUCK!" when a soft-boiled "damn" will serve just fine. I can never figure out why my daughter (and a few friends) bust out laughing when I cuss. I think it's because I'm not very convincing, having had little practice.
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I'm writing this post in snatches of time. Every time my giant orange rescue cat dozes off, I snip off another chunk of his long, matted fur. He's been stressed by tummy troubles lately, and the matting is uncharacteristic but symptomatic.

I committed to this furry child five years ago. I cannot adopt every abandoned stray that shows up on my porch. But it's in my power to protect, love and make a difference in this one's life. The world has one less neglected cat.


When you're young and finding your place in life, the world seems gigantic and "out there." You doubt your power. You are unsure of its reach and its very existence—particularly when you're transitioning between your identity as a student and a so-called productive citizen. By the time you reach the middle of your life, the world, and your mark on it, will hopefully have become more defined. Your influence on the world is as much about the abstract concept of giving aid to victims of natural disasters half a world away as it is the squelched urge to flip off a driver who cuts you off. One less road rage incident. One act of sacrificial generosity, one act of self-control. They add up.


There are countless other ways one individual can conquer what plagues all of humankind, the animals we share the planet with, and the earth itself.


Raise awareness. Pray. Speak encouragement. Nurture yourself so you have the resources to take care of others. Fight your inner demons—daily, if you must, to be free to fight the demons external to you. And yes, WRITE.


I'm all for choosing a path based on how much it can help the world. But I've read far too many comments from people burned out from social work and similar helping professions. There is more wisdom in selecting a path that uses your gifts, as long as those gifts recharge rather than drain you. We are accountable not for everything that is wrong in the world, but for anything we can and are willing to do to brighten the world.


Raise awareness—of the sources of joy. Pray—in gratitude. Speak encouragement. Nurture yourself so you can by example teach others to nurture themselves instead of leeching out everyone else's joy. When you fight your inner demons, remember to leave time to dance with your inner pixies. And yes, for heaven's sake and the world's, WRITE.