HEY THERE, writer! How are you? Just how in the hell could you possibly be? And why?
That was a weird intro, I admit. I’ve always thought saying, “How are you?” to someone carries a bit of irony. It seeks to understand one’s state of being while marvelling at being itself. “How are you? No seriously, how could you possibly be?”
I love words. We all love them whether we think about it or not. Everything we know and understand comes through the lens of these strange little symbols invented by people long dead. Your conceptualization of an oak tree cannot exist without the words oak and tree and leaves and branches and bark and trunk and roots, rustling, foliage, autumn, shade, squirrels and birds and tree frogs, sunshine, rain, photosynthesis, carved initials separated by a plus sign and framed in a heart. Lightning. Wind. Widow-maker. Chainsaw. Topple. Lumber.
I could go on and on. There are an infinite number of ways to imagine a tree, to characterize a tree, to describe a tree.
Words evoke meaning. They stir up the material of the world. They give things context. We couldn’t even communicate without them. We wouldn’t have the concept of love or hate or good or evil.
If you’re a Bible person, you know the Word is God. In Genesis, God speaks, and what generates from his words is decidedly good.
Words shape the world.
Just a couple writerly thoughts to usher in the new year.
P.S.–It’s your turn. Pour your words all over me.