Don’t Know the Words

Words contain our experience. They give us a sense of control. They put a lamp around our genie. They help us navigate the world as we know it and provide an island of comfort amidst the discomfort of the unknown.

Thinking is mostly done in words. We see a rose and we think, that is a rose. It becomes a word, something other than it is. We have contained it. We have defined it. We think we know it. Then we smell it and it is much more. We don’t know anymore. If we don’t have the words to describe how the rose smells, we just think good or bad. We can’t stop the words. We can’t stop the thinking. We can’t help running to the comfortable island of what we know.

When we become uncomfortable with what we know, our words and our thinking have turned against us. Suddenly, there is nowhere to run for comfort. At that point, we can either stay on our safe island of what we know and continue to suffer from our doubts and worries, or we can step out into what we don’t know and seek comfort there. Words will inspire us to take that step, and words will help us to find comfort. Instead of thinking, good or bad, we will think what? Instead of thinking, I feel awful because this is terrible, we will wonder, what is this feeling, what is going on?

When we step into the unknown, we will notice that we were always there. What we thought we knew was a lot of pretty words and ideas. There was never an island. There was never a lamp. The genie was always free.


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