I had a thought in the middle of the night, a few weeks back.
Sometimes my thoughts are really good ideas, so I’ve created a habit of always having a notepad and pen next to my bed. That’s the easy part. The hard part of it has been to sit up, turn on the light, write the thought down. My practice is that if I don’t write it down, I revoke my commitment to the value of the thought.
Sometimes, in the morning, I’m really pleased with what I wrote and that I wrote it down. An idea for a client, a possible upcoming seminar topic, something important to do. Other times, I have NO IDEA what that thought was—gibberish notes. (smile)
So the note from that recent thought was,
“The weight / wait of our words.”
It started me thinking:
Do your words have any weight? Any substance?
Does your word mean anything?
How much weight do other people give to your words?
Do people take you for your word?
(Or have you, perhaps, trained them not to?)
How much weight do you BRING to your word?
Are there burdens attached? Are you weighing yourself down with words?
Do you weigh your words? Do you choose them:
-purposefully? -carefully? -intentionally? -fearfully? -protectingly? -cavalierly?
Are your words scarce?
Take a look from a different perspective:
How much “WAIT” do your words have?
How many of your words are organized around “Not now”?
What are you waiting FOR?
What are hell ARE you saying, anyway?
Who’s running the show, with your words?
What’s behind and underneath your words?
I say so. I HAVE say so. I say how it is. I always am.
What do you have to say about that?
