I've a dichotomous relationship with words, spoken ones at least. At times I feel I should tip-toe around them because they hold such weight, such gravity of impact. Thoreau describes words departing from the mouth as works of art "...carved out of the breath of life itself." These carved creations are weighted with the fierce power to express the heart, or to break it.
In this way, respecting the power of words demands great discernment and deliberation when speaking. It's as though all the language at my disposal is labeled with a "CAUTION! HANDLE WITH CARE!" sign.
But on the other hand-
Words are meaningless! What are words but the mere descriptors of thoughts and events? Words alone do not make life happen, they just describe it. I'm sure we've all heard a zillion quotes or proverbs about the value of action over words.... "walk the walk, don't just talk the talk," right?
I wonder all the time about how to hold these opposing perspectives simultaneously; how can they be so insignificant, and so supremely significant all at once? How do I treat words with such care and grace, while remembering their relative hollowness? I know there's some truth to both perspectives, but I just wonder about this often..
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