Throwing Words Like Stones

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me."

How many of us have used this phrase and been so certain that we were making a good point? How many of us used this as our personal motto in order to move through the aftermath of someone else's verbal venom? I have. I didn't understand that this statement is sooo incorrect and has no true value in terms of making one feel better. You know why? Because words do hurt. I know that the intention of this oft uttered phrase is to give one strength, a layer of armor. However, it doesn't fully address the hurt that's left after someone says something that's downright disturbing. You know why? Because words do hurt.

Sticks and stones do break bones, but words can break hearts. I know that you can kill someone with a well aimed stick or stone, but guess what? A well aimed verbal assault can kill someone's spirit, destroy his/her soul. You know why? BECAUSE WORDS DO HURT. Words have value, important value in fact. It's the reason why you yell, "FIRE!!!" when your house is in flames, rather than yelling, "YOGURT!!" It's why you say, "I love you" and not, "I bungle you."

Too often, we speak without thinking, and cast words like stones. We fire words like weapons. We condemn, spite, demean, degrade, denigrate and...we destroy. And the sad part is, we don't always recognize it. We say it's who we are, we didn't mean it, I'm sorry, but...You know what, though? Words hurt and we need to be mindful of how we use them.

The next time you feel yourself about to deliver a verbal beat down, give a scathing commentary or make a disparaging remark, take a moment to reflect on your relationship with the person you are speaking to. If it's someone you love, like, care about, may need in the future, may cross professional paths with, etc., take a second to gather yourself before you speak. Because although you may feel like you have to get it off your chest, you may not get the results you intended. Because words hurt and people remember and they may not forgive you when you try to use your words to apologize.

Maya Angelou says, “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning.” When you have the opportunity to speak your words, use them to empower, to encourage, to enlighten because at the end of the day, words have power. Use yours wisely.


India Arie "Talk to Her"

From the Soul: Of Caged Birds and Longing

Sometimes a poem can speak to you in ways that prose cannot. I've already professed my love for the great Maya Angelou here and here. Today, I thought her words would be a wonderful lift for a sagging spirit. There are times when we feel as if we are trapped and don't know how to get back on track. We get overwhelmed by our daily lives and toil in misery and sorrow: "I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired." However, we must recognize that with each new day, there is the possibility of something greater, of something more suited to the destiny that we were intended to meet:

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
by Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill, for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Here is a poem called "Sympathy" by Paul Laurence Dunbar which was published in 1899. This work inspired the poem you have just read by Maya Angelou. Enjoy:

Sympathy
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting--
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings!

Poems courtesy of poemhunter.com

Loving Yourself

Hey Beautiful--how much do you love yourself? Seriously...How. Much. Do. You. LOVE. Yourself? Many of us might fall into a rehearsed pseudo-confident, "I love me!!" full of the obligatory neck roll or hand on the hip to punctuate your seriousness about the strength of your self-love. But do you mean it? Down to your core--do you mean it? With every fiber of your being and down to the bone marrow, do you mean it? What do you love about you? What are the things you do well? What needs improvement? Why do you love yourself? Think about it, so many of us put on our game faces, but at the end of the day, we grapple with issues of self-worth and identity. And because of this, sadly, we don't truly know WHO and HOW we are.

Unfortunately, we often measure our value by what others tell us we are worth or by what we have. Both of those methods are sure fire self-love killers if you don't have people who speak greatness into your life or if your material possessions aren't top notch. Guess what? You will always fall short if you compare yourself to what others have. That's a quick way to feel bad about yourself constantly.

You have to know that you are your best thing; you know you best. No one can pour anything into you that you can't pour into yourself. Stop giving the best of you away. Too often, we save the scraps for ourselves because we have been taught that self-sacrifice is honorable. While sacrifice definitely has its place, no one should offer him or herself up as a sacrificial lamb. From this day forward, promise to love yourself without hesitation or compromise. You deserve it!!

To get you in the mood for practicing self-love, here is the classic poem, "Still I Rise" by the incomparable Maya Angelou. Enjoy!!

Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

"Still I Rise" courtesy of poets.org

Soul Food: "Alone" by Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou is Ev-er-y-thang!! I have loved her offerings, poetic and prosaic, since I read her first autobiography I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I don't know which I prefer, but I do know that I am always hungry for more when I read her words. I was thinking about my close network of friends and family and realized that I am privileged to have such a strong close-knit circle. I am lucky that even when I feel heavy laden with sadness (thank you Donny Hathaway), I have a crew of folks that I can count on to be there for me in my darkest hours without fail. Like the words in the following poem "nobody can make it out here alone." Too often, we box ourselves into a corner by trying to pretend that we have everything under control. But no person is an island; we all could use someone to help us out once in awhile. This poem reminds us that we need others in order to thrive. You don't have to go it alone. The other side of this is that you should try to help someone out in need: be a blessing to someone's life today...

Alone

by Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking

Last night

How to find my soul a home

Where water is not thirsty

And bread loaf is not stone

I came up with one thing

And I don't believe I'm wrong

That nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires

With money they can't use

Their wives run round like banshees

Their children sing the blues

They've got expensive doctors

To cure their hearts of stone.

But nobody

No, nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely

I'll tell you what I know

Storm clouds are gathering

The wind is gonna blow

The race of man is suffering

And I can hear the moan,

'Cause nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Poem courtesy of http://www.poets.org/ Image courtesy of http://www.gpaulbishop.com